#translating word by word... it certainly doesn't make sense at first...

[fisheito]

I had a thought I’d like to share with the class. So we know that Kuya is super bored all the time but what if he sets up traps for Quincy. Bullying Quincy is his step above bullying normal forest creatures. Kuya sets up puzzles for his ex husband to solve and just sits in a tree watching him get out of his traps. Quincy takes into account the possibility of getting caught in a trap whenever he goes out hunting and includes it in his schedule. (I love them, they’re so husband.)

Quincy has also probably learned that the best method for dealing with Kuya is to run away because it deprives him of any enjoyment. Kuya is probably so pissed off when he does this tho like: “>:0 How dare you not fall into the trap I spent hours constructing for my own amusement.” So Quincy probably knows he has to solve at least one of Kuya’s traps per week if not he risks Kuya going insane. It’s his enrichment.

Now onto my thought: What if in one of his latest traps he turns Quincy into an animal, just for the funsies. Latest trap turns Quincy into one of those giant tortoises if he doesn’t solve it quickly enough. Then Kuya kidnaps him and keeps him in his garden. Quincy is completely fine with this because Kuya will probably just turn him back when he gets bored.

Meanwhile Topper is like, “Oh shit, I gotta go tell Eiden” so he makes his way to Aster’s mansion to tell him. Except Eiden is having a hard time understanding Topper so he gets Yakumo. Yakumo also thinks he’s misunderstanding what Topper is saying. Then they think about it for two seconds and are like, “Yeah that does sound like something Kuya would do.” So they get their asses over to the Wood Territory, accompanied by Rei because he’s curious about how Kuya managed to turn Quincy into an animal.

Meanwhile Quincy is living his best life eating the vegetation in Kuya’s garden and not having responsibilities. He’s killing two birds with one stone so he’s not complaining. Eiden gets there and the conversation goes something like this.

Eiden: Why would you turn him into a giant turtle, you need to turn him back.

Kuya: First of all he’s a tortoise. Second, he likes it.

Rei: What kind of kink is this?

Quincy: *munching on a piece of lettuce*

Eventually they convinced Kuya to turn him back but you know damn well he’s gonna do something similar next week.

Thank you for sharing with the class...!! 🤓🔍🤏🧐 why..... you certainly brought up many ideas that i never considered. a very enligtheninggn story. . . a narrative of silly proportions.. makes me want to eat some lettuce

[alackofclareity]

ohhhhhh denial for some aspects of my trauma but not others is so... it's so much. I can't explain some of these things away. other things simply couldn't have taken place that way, but there's some kernel of truth in these memories and I feel like I can maybe, just maybe, see the shape of what was done to me and why my mind constructed the aspects it did to hide the full truth. I feel like my brain is going to combust trying to understand any of this.

[anotherhomelanderblog]

The Ravishing (Part 5)

Summary: You've discovered a certain jar, so confront Homelander about it. He doesn't react very well. Content: Homelander x fem!Reader | established relationship | The Pube Jar(TM) | blowjob | nonspecific S4 timeline Word count: 2.1k Author's note: Aaand this is the last part. There is finally some smut, although not a lot - my apologies, I'm still trying to build up my smut writing confidence. 😅 Thank you for reading along!

One Two Three Four Five | ao3

You shuffle backwards, finding a familiar position between his legs. He lies down flat once more, his bare hand slipping away from yours to bunch into a fist at his side. You’re not sure if his eyes are still closed or if he’s staring resolutely at the mirrors that make up the ceiling. Either way, you smooth your palms over his torso and hips, bound tight in Vought branded blue though they are, and start to undo the clasp of his belt.

The first time you slept together, he’d worked what seemed at the time some sort of magic trick to free his cock – and just his cock – and then another one to stash it away afterwards. As you’ve since discovered, there are hidden zips and fastenings in every Vought suit, and Homelander’s is no exception. Now, as the metal belt comes undone with a dull thunk against the bed, you’re almost as expert as Homelander himself in how this all works.

Navy blue slides down to reveal the garish orange of his underwear. His legs are the more welcome sight, and he makes a desperate noise as you shift your hands down to caress his inner thighs.

“Shh… that’s it… you’re okay…” you coo. You keep your eyes cast down because you’re not sure how he’d interpret whatever jolt to your heartbeat you’re sure will occur if you look at his face now. You can hear his breathing has turned shallow. “Just you and me… it’s all good…”

In the early days of your relationship, it took some time, and ample reassurances on your part, before Homelander undressed for you at all. To begin with, the suit may as well have been his skin. He’s never admitted it to you in as many words, but you know it’s his identity and armour rolled into one. The corporate-spun spirit of The Homelander possesses it enterally, even when it’s hanging up, waiting to be put on. It’s a sanctuary for him.

Sometimes, you think it’s also just another cage.

You won’t try and draw him out of it now. Much as you’d love to breathe him in whilst peppering kisses over every inch of his real skin, you know you mustn’t be greedy. When you’re starving, overindulging can badly overwhelm the senses – if not so much your senses in this case, certainly his.

You’ll wait for him fly out again when he’s ready. For now, there’s one part of him in particular you need to focus on…

You can tell even before you remove the barrier of his underwear that he isn’t hard. This doesn’t shock you, given the state of him. His breath hitches the moment his shame is revealed to you – and yours does too, though not for the reasons he must think.

You know what your lover looks like. You’d expected the greying, the new patchiness; hairs do remain, but they’re dispersed in an irregular fashion that makes you wonder if shaving the whole area might help. Might, that is, if it weren’t for the inflammation of his skin. It isn’t extreme, but the fact such a phenomenon is possible at all concerns you. How hard has he been plucking to damage his skin? How regularly? How many at once?

The number of hairs in that jar hits you again, and you feel profoundly guilty for not noticing this sooner. Shouldn’t it have been somehow obvious? He may be the one with the x-ray vision, but shouldn’t you have just sensed this?

“Well?” he snaps. “Still sure you wanna ravish me?”

You realise you’ve left him hanging in a vulnerable position and glance up. He is indeed staring at the ceiling, his mouth in a solemn line, eyes fixed and avowedly avoiding you. Homelander is a great actor onscreen, but you’ve never once seen this talent translate into a believable poker face when he needs it most.

“That’s not–”

“Seeing something in the flesh can really put it in perspective, huh?”

A frown creases your forehead. You are worried about him, more than you’d like to admit, but the idea that any of this – that this compulsion he’s developed – could ever put you off him is absurd. Has he been plucking his brains out alongside his pubes?

You shake your head.

“I wish you’d quit pretending you’re telepathic,” you mutter. Like riding a bicycle, one of your hands drifts to the base of his shaft, wrapping around it. You’re gentle, but right now that light touch is enough to make his lasers splutter on in warning. His head jerks up to stare at you. You stare back. “Isn’t being the strongest man in the world enough of a boast, my love?”

The red of his eyes fades as fast as it appeared. You can hear your heart beating loudly in your ears. He looks so surprised, you’re not sure what’s going to happen next. He’s hardening in your grasp.

“What are you–”

Something snaps inside you, and you interrupt him. “How dare you think this would ever put me off you. You are fucking beautiful to me, do you understand? I adore you. Why can’t you see that?”

You don’t like how desperately your voice pitches at the end of that statement. He twitches in your hand and a groan escapes his mouth. He’s staring at you with such an intensity, his cheeks stained pink, that in this moment you truly believe the whole of existence has reduced to just you, him, and your hand wrapped around his cock. His expression is difficult to discern: pinched somewhere between pleasure and the utmost confusion.

“Let me make you feel good,” you beg him. “Don’t you of all people deserve to be worshipped like a god?”

“Y/N.” He says your name so seriously, you instinctively let go. He whines in disapproval. “Don’t – fuck – don’t stop. Please.”

It’s like Christmas has come early. He has been denying himself, and you are ravenous.

Your core throbs, dampening your knickers, but this isn’t about you, will never be about you, and that’s fine. You would rather writhe forever in the shadow of your god than live a day in the sun without him. A feeling of contentment curves your lips into a smile, while he remains flushed, breathless, perhaps – for once – completely at your mercy. He’s already leaking precum.

“My perfect man,” you say.

And then you sink down properly between his legs and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. He’s yours again. He’s divine. He hasn’t changed as much as he thinks he has.

He whimpers at once, his bare hand fisting into your hair to guide you down, encouraging you to take more and more of him. Your hands grasp his hips to better angle yourself, inhaling his scent as you do. Your eyes roll back in your head.

“Good – ah – good girl,” he gasps out.

His grip on your hair fluctuates from tight to loose as your tongue recalls the dance you’ve longed for. As you alternate between swirling around his length and teasing his head, you wish you could be in two places at one to behold his expression. He’s making sounds you haven’t heard for months: whines and whimpers, needy mewls, gasps. His pleasure is so intense, you swear it could be mistaken for pain.

But not by you.

Time becomes irrelevant, your vision blurred with all the tears you could’ve shed earlier, your ears overflowing with the litany of gratefulness. His voice is choked up whenever he speaks, begs, praises you. At one point, though he’s too incoherent to make out, you swear he’s edging towards apologising for hiding from you. This might be your own delirium.

“Y/N… can’t… I’m gonna fuckin’–”

You know the tune, aware of when he’s getting close by the way his body tremors and his breathing near stops. It’s not like he needs to breathe so regularly, after all. You don’t pull back, wanting to take everything, absolutely everything, he gives you. He belongs to you in this moment. You want him.

Homelander sounds almost broken when he comes, and you don’t miss a drop, unwilling to let him go until the euphoric haze has passed and his noises start to grow overstimulated. You slide off him with a depraved wet sound and raise yourself up by your arms over his torso. You mouth feels suddenly empty. You lick your lips clean whilst meeting his gaze.

He looks pristine as ever, the only tells on him being a slight dishevelment of his hair and the way his lips are parted in exhilaration. His eyes haven’t looked that clear and bright for months, and they’re fixed on you like you’re the one with superpowers. You, on the other hand, must look considerably more debauched. You’re breathing heavily with want, your body hovering above his.

“Do you believe me now?” you ask him, voice rough.

He’s looking at you as though you hold the secrets to the universe again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “C-Come here.”

You see the quiver of his bottom lip, the emotion roiling inside him once again. How could you do anything but go to him when he asks you to like that?

As you crawl up his body, he all but smothers you with the overwhelming force of his own by pulling you flush to him. You gasp when he starts kissing every part of you he can reach: your head, your face, your arms, your hands. He might be crying again, but you might be too.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your lips meet at some point amidst this frenzy – still hungry, still devouring. He doesn’t ever mind the taste of himself on your tongue. You eventually find your foreheads resting against one another’s, your eyes closed.

���The only fucking one,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. He kisses you again, tenderly this time. “Never leave me.”

His hold on you increases just a fraction.

“Never,” you whisper back fervently.

You feel him shifting, trying to make his way down the bed, and open your eyes – of course, the scent of your undealt with arousal must be calling to him. You catch his jaw before he succeeds in his plans. He halts, confusion creasing his brow.

“It’s alright. There’ll be time for that later. I promise. Just let me hold you for a bit, yeah?” you say softly. There’s some resistance in his eyes, but the high you’ve given him is stronger, and he slumps back against you with a nod. You smile. “You won’t ever be too much for me, my love. Just, please don’t shut me out… or I might have to do that all over again.”

He chuckles, and his crow’s feet crinkle as he leans up to kiss your cheek. “How I suffer.”

You chuckle too, sliding your arms around his middle. “Oh, how you do.”

He hums, satisfied for now. He pulls the covers around you both and nuzzles into the crook of your neck – with no intention of leaving soon, you’re sure. You cradle his head like earlier, stroking one-handed through those deceptive blond hairs. His cape cocoons the two of you, crumpled and creased though it is.

You predict, by this evening, he will be out of the suit entirely, and you’ll have discarded your tear-drenched getup too. You will make a fuss of each part of him as you wish to. You will properly ravish him, and you’ll let him do the same for you.

In time, you will work out the stressors and triggers for this new compulsion of his, and then you will eviscerate every single person even responsible for them. You may not have his might, but you do have his influence. There isn’t another person you have ever felt as strongly about. What else could you possibly do?

Perhaps somewhere, deep in your craw, you can see the way the winds are blowing outside of this moment on the bed – but the two of you are fated. In triumph or disaster.

You know his mind is vulnerable, and you refuse to strike him there. He knows your body is vulnerable, and you trust he won’t strike you there either. Even if shattering him from the inside out proves to be the price of saving the world, you know in your heart there would be no world for you without him in it. And you’re not a hero; you’re in love.

This is love, you think. Your love.

Your love isn’t like the fairytales – you don’t remember Prince Charming collecting his pubic hairs when everything got too much. Your love is uglier and more precious, and it ravishes both of your bodies more than the ravages of age ever could.

[oddinary4bts]

Be With You | ch 11

☆summary: who knew that the hot guy you've been paired with for a class project is also a kind soul? Certainly not you, and you feel yourself falling even though you know you shouldn't. Will it be your demise, or will it all work out in the end?

☆pairing: Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: slow burn strangers to lovers, college!au, smut, angst and fluff

☆warnings: the presentation, panic attack, reader revealing what happened with jungkook (physical abuse), mentions of cheating, cursing, a frat party, Jungkook, alcohol, we learn one of the reasons why oc doesn't drink, throwing up

☆word count: 12.8k

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here

☆a/n: okay so this chapter is rough, we learn exactly what happened between reader and jungkook, and there's a lot of angst but I promise it's also the start of healing! My trip is also almost done :( and thank you to @moonleeai for your amazing work as my beta reader, I love you and am forever thankful for you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

Cold snowflakes Withered down Until you bloom As a spring flower I'll be with you

Be With You, Ateez (english translation)

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, December 13th

The classroom is buzzing with chatter, louder than it usually is. A certain sense of stress hangs in the air, caused by the presentations that are going to take place in just a moment, and you linger at the back of the classroom, your leg bouncing up and down as you worry at your bottom lip.

You’re exhausted. Bone-dry exhausted, yet the jittery atmosphere keeps your nerves alight just enough for you to keep glancing around, like you’re a prey expecting a predator. You reckon you might be - hasn’t Choi San become a predator in your life?

He hasn’t arrived yet. Wooyoung and his partner were assigned to the afternoon group, so Wooyoung isn’t here either. You don’t know if it’s a relief - if there are less people you know watching you doing your presentation, will it be easier to go through the whole thing?

You don’t think it would be. Hell, you don’t even know why you’re being so anxious today. You’ve had countless presentations in the past much like this one, and though back in high school they were a shit show, you’ve been better at them since you started college. 

But perhaps the anxiety doesn’t lie in the presentation itself, but rather in the person you’ll present with. Maybe the anxiety lies in the fact this is the last time you’ll ever hear his voice, if what he said last Sunday is true.

Your heart is numb. Your whole body has been numbed - you’ve barely talked to anyone all week. You’ve hidden in your room, studying, emerging just when you need to eat or shower. You went to your exams, came home to hide in your room again.

It’s been hell. You feel like you’ve been going through hell, but at least your first finals went well. It makes sense that they did - you’ve literally been studying for weeks already as an escape from your thoughts about Choi San.

Not everything has been a disaster. Your sleep schedule, perhaps, and the quality of the food you eat, but at least your finals aren’t going to be a catastrophe.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been staring at the first group to present. They’re plugging the taller guy’s laptop so that they can project their Powerpoint, and the other one makes a joke that has them both laugh. Your eyes trail away, stopping by the door just in time for you to see San walking in. He’s wearing a long, grey coat along with a black turtleneck, but what truly takes you by surprise is the pair of glasses sitting on his nose.

San notices you, and your heart stops beating as he walks up towards where you’re sitting, one hand clutching his backpack’s strap on his shoulder. 

Your fight - if it can be called a fight - last Sunday flashes in your mind, and you immediately look away, focusing on the guys at the front again. It doesn’t stop you from hearing San dropping his bag next to you, and the creak his chair makes as he pulls it back to sit.

“Ready?” he asks, so casually you almost get whiplash.

Or maybe the whiplash is caused by the way you turn your head towards him so fast it leaves you a little dizzy. 

He looks… good, with the glasses. But it doesn’t take a genius to understand why he put them on - his dark circles have grown since last Sunday, and his eyes even look bloodshot, as if he hasn’t slept a second since you last saw each other. And you would know, as you look exactly like that, too.

“Yeah,” you reply curtly, and you look away, focusing on the Powerpoint that’s projected on the white board now. 

The guys are struggling to get the curtain for the projector down, and the professor walks over to them to help, delaying the start of their presentation. The start of yours, too, as you’re the fourth group to pass, right before a short break.

You feel San’s gaze on your profile and for a moment, all you can picture are the tears in his eyes right before he’d left at the library. You clench your fists, nails digging in your palms, and the physical pain is enough to keep the heartbreak at bay.

For now.

The professor manages to get the curtain down, and he goes to sit back where he was. He stops before he sits though, indicating that the presentation will begin, and then the two guys at the front start talking about aviation conspiracy theories. You don’t listen, instead trying to remember what you’ll have to say once it’s your turn to present. It’s infinitely hard with San by your side, and adrenaline starts to flood your bloodstream when the second team starts, the bouncing of your leg under the desk accelerating.

Your hands are clammy. You notice when you make to push a strand of hair behind your ear, and you immediately dry them on your thighs. San glances at you, his eyes on your profile heavy, though he remains silent, returning his attention to the presentation in front of you instead.

By the time the third group is presenting, your heart is beating so fast you reckon you might have a cardiac event before it’s your turn. You try to focus on your breathing, try to remember that you know your subject in and out, that you’ve practiced by yourself so many times you can recite your text with your eyes closed when you’re trying to fall asleep at night.

It’s what you’ve been doing after all. It helped chase San out of your thoughts to a certain extent. Needless to say, he invaded all of your dreams during the week, which might be another reason why you’ve barely been sleeping.

The third presentation passes far too quickly. Soon, you find yourself getting up, following San down the stairs and to the front of the class. Your heart beats in your ears, and you ignore San’s worried look as he glances at you after having plugged the laptop.

You breathe in, breathe out, and nod your head once when San asks if you’re ready to start. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, barely above a whisper because the class is already almost fully silent.

Your eyes dart to him, and you hate how genuine he looks. Instead, you imagine him like he was last Sunday when he told you that you were so clueless. You picture the frown on his features, the disgusted lilt to his voice. You hear it clear as day, so it’s as easy as breathing to look away and give a thumbs-up to the professor, who asks the class for silence.

You’re like a robot. Hell, you’re relieved you practiced so much, because you go into automatic mode the second you start talking, words flowing out of your mouth a lot easier than you thought they could. 

But then San talks, his voice loud for everyone to hear, and he even smiles, trying to appear friendly. 

He does the mistake of glancing at you while he talks, and the dimples on his cheeks are like bullets to your heart, and the pain you were keeping at bay suddenly flares in your chest, choking your lungs.

This is the last time you’re going to hear him. The last time his voice will float to your ears, the last time you will see his smile somewhere other than down memory lane. This is the last time you will stand so close to Choi San, the last time you’ll be able to catch a whiff of his cologne.

San glances at you again, and he falls silent. You just hold his gaze, just remember everything that happened between you and him. Right from the very beginning, when he’d opened the door of his apartment wearing that compression shirt, up until he walked out of the study room a few days ago. Everything flashes in front of your eyes, a sign that the relationship died after all, and tears fill your gaze.

San furrows his eyebrows, sending a pointed look at the Powerpoint that he’s been changing the slides of since you started the presentation.

It’s your slide. You know you’re supposed to talk now, but your mind is empty, a void replacing everything it’s ever held. You gaze down at the abyss of it, feel yourself falling, and you swallow around a lump as your eyes go back to San.

He mouths something, but your vision has turned blurry and you can't make sense of the words on his lips. You can’t make sense of anything - has the room been spinning this whole time? You’re not even breathing.

Why can’t you breathe?

San clears his throat, and then he’s speaking again, saving you from immensely fucking up the presentation. But you still can’t breathe, and you’re swaying on your feet.

It’s not the room spinning, it’s your head. It’s spinning, and the air burns your lungs when you manage to take a breath in. Your vision goes black on the edges, and nausea hits you head on, your stomach churning.

You might be sick. Shit. You’re going to be sick. You’re going to be sick, and the people are clapping, and San is asking you something, but you can’t hear him.

It’s the end. The final dot at the end of the final line. He’ll be gone from your life in just a few moments. There’ll be no more dimples, no more soft gazes.

Not that there has been any for the last few weeks. You ended a while ago already - maybe you should just let go.

San says your name, and the familiar syllables are like talons clutching at your heart, ripping it from your chest. You feel like you’re bleeding out - are you going to be sick still?

You need air. You need to get out, need to find a dark place to hide while the panic passes.

You’re having a panic attack.

The realization makes you move. It makes you bolt, and you’re out of the classroom before you know it, heading towards the bathroom. San calls your name behind you, but you don’t stop, can’t stop, and you walk into the girl’s bathroom, stopping at the sink.

You turn the tap on and watch the water as it dribbles and then starts flowing quicker. You splash some in your face, ignoring the way it mixes with the tears that are running on your cheeks now.

You need to breathe.

You can’t breathe.

“Y/n!” San says behind you.

He walked into the girl’s bathroom. What is he doing here?

“Y/n, what is wrong with you?” he asks, the concern in his eyes way too much for you.

You break. Always and forever, you break, and San catches you before you can fall on the ground, before you can disappear through it. But he doesn’t pull you closer, doesn’t wrap you in his embrace. He just holds you from a distance, a distance that feels like the largest crevice, and you take his hands off you.

They just fall at his sides aimlessly, and San just keeps looking at you.

“What the fuck,” you let out, and then you chuckle.

You’re fucking going crazy.

“What’s wrong?” San asks again.

“Panic attack.” You lean back against the sink, taking a deep breath. 

A breath that burns and stings and breaks, because you know why the panic attack stopped. You know it was his hands holding you up that stopped it, and it’s so, so fucking unfair.

“We did great,” San softly says. “Why are you panicking?”

“Why?” you repeat, and then you softly laugh, drying a tear on your cheek. “Why do you think?”

He whispers your name.

“I haven’t slept since last Sunday,” you say. “I don’t think I’ve slept before that either.” You shut your eyes, swallowing once. “What did I do wrong?”

He knows just as well as you that you aren’t talking about the presentation. 

He says your name again, like it’s a plea this time. But you’re tired, too tired to let it go again.

“Please,” you beg. “I just want to know what happened.” You take a shaky breath in. “You said you were falling in love, and then you disappeared.”

“You know what happened.” His voice is infinitely sad.

You want to punch him. You do - your eyes open, and you punch him against the chest with the side of your fist. “I don’t fucking know, San. I. Don’t. Know.”

He grabs your hand, stopping you from punching him more. You both turn your head to the side as a girl walks in the bathroom. She takes sight of the two of you, glances at the stalls, and then turns back around, leaving you alone with San who’s still holding your closed fist.

“You cheated on your ex.”

His words are like claps of thunder, and you stand in the silence that follows them, holding his gaze. “That’s why you ghosted me?”

“Not exactly,” he says, and he closes his eyes tightly, letting go of your hand. “You lied to me.”

You did. You said you didn’t have an ex, so you were right: it is your fault that you lost Choi San after all.

You’re crying again. “He talked to you at the party, didn’t he?”

San nods, but doesn’t open his eyes. “We talked after that, too.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick again. You’d take a step back to put distance between you and San, but you’re still leaning against the sink. You turn around, turning the water off, and you look at yourself in the mirror.

You look so fucking pathetic.

“What did he say?”

“That the relationship was toxic,” San replies simply. “That you cheated on him with your brother’s friend, and that he ended things then.”

“That’s all he said?” you ask, and you look at yourself in the mirror, surprised that the tears have stopped. Indeed, your mind fills with a strange clarity, and the heartbreak fades away.

You’re just numb, much like you were in the last few days.

“Pretty much,” San replies.

“Did he tell you what happened when I told him about Mingi?”

It’s strange, to feel so calm all of sudden. To be able to speak without your voice quivering, and to be able to think about everything without feeling like you’ll be swallowed by a wave of panic again. 

“He just said you broke up.”

You chuckle bitterly. “He pushed me”

You say the words softly, and San opens his eyes, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“What?”

“He pushed me,” you repeat. “Pushed me so hard that I... I fell and broke a lamp.” You pull your shirt up, revealing the faint scar on your arm. “I cut myself on the lamp.”

San says your name with such horror you almost feel bad to be telling him your story.

But it’s time for him to know.

“Yunho ran in, and he beat the shit out of Jungkook. Kicked him out of the house. Wasn’t too hard though, Jungkook was panicking and apologizing, so he didn’t really try to do anything.”

San just remains silent this time around, and you take a deep breath before you continue talking.

“I never reported it. Yunho, Syd, my parents… they all wanted me to report it, but I just couldn’t. I never saw him again after that day. Jimin gave me back my stuff and grabbed Jungkook’s.”

“That… That’s why Jimin told me to not listen to Jungkook…” San whispers. His eyes have fallen on a spot on your back, but they climb back to your face in the mirror before he speaks again. “Jimin alluded that I shouldn’t listen to Jungkook.”

“You talk to Jimin, too?”

San nods. “He and Wooyoung kind of have a thing going on, so I saw him twice. And Jungkook was there, too.”

You gulp. “Oh.”

“I…” San trails off. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I did cheat on him. You would have known the rest back then if you’d talked to me instead of ghosting.” Your tone is accusatory, the pain and anger from him ghosting you resurfacing. 

“It’s just…” San shuts his eyes again, rubbing his face. “With my dad…”

“I know,” you say when he falls silent again. “You fucking hate cheaters, right?” 

You’re quoting what he told you that Wednesday night when he told you about his dad, and you remember how you’d hurt when he’d said those words.

How afraid you’d been. Rightfully so in the end. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“No.” You gulp. “No, you’re not. If anyone’s sorry here, it’s me. I lied to you about having an ex, after all.”

“You could have…” He takes a deep breath. “You could have told me.”

You know he’s not trying to be insensitive. You know he probably hasn’t computed the gravity of what you’ve told him yet - most people don’t truly understand what you went through anyway. 

“It’s something I prefer pretending it never happened,” you say. “I did my therapy, healed from it, and I don’t want people to treat me differently, so I don’t talk about it.”

San’s crying. You realize it when you see the tears rolling down his face. You stare at them blankly, wait for them to hurt you, but your heart remains fully numb.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes again. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s done is done. You reminded me why I don’t do relationships so, thanks for that, I guess.”

“Don’t say that.”

You chuckle bitterly. “Don’t tell me what to do.” You wet your lips, and you breathe in deeply. “But you know what? You were right last Sunday. We shouldn’t talk about it.”

You don’t know how you do it. How you manage to walk away, leaving San to cry in the bathroom alone. You just focus on making it back to the classroom, where the break is thankfully under way, and you walk over to where the professor is sitting. Like a robot, you apologize for your panic attack. He shrugs his shoulders, saying that he too struggles with them and that it won’t affect your grade. You thank him, and then you walk to where your stuff is, grabbing your backpack and shoving your laptop and water bottle in it. You put your coat on, walk back down the stairs and then out of the class.

And just like that, you walk out of Choi San’s life, too.

Friday, December 20th 

Sydney can be quite convincing when she wants to be. It’s the only explanation you have as to why you’re currently doing your makeup, getting ready to go to a party hosted by some fraternity. Originally, you were both supposed to spend the night in, but Yunho claimed that party was going to be fun, somehow managed to convince Sydney to go, and Sydney said she’d murder you if you didn’t go with her, so here you are.

Applying a sharp line of black eyeliner to your top eyelid, mouth opened comically as you try not to blink. Especially not considering you spent a good while creating the perfect smokey eyeshadow look before, and you really don’t want to mess that up.

Sydney is already ready - she favors a simple line of eyeliner and nothing else - and she’s sitting on your bed, back against the wall, scrolling through her phone as she waits for you to be ready. 

You haven’t told her that you’ve told San. You barely can believe it yourself, especially considering the radio silence on his part since the presentation. He’s made it definitely clear that, despite you telling him, he has no interest in talking to you, and so you’ve decided that you’re going to move on.

Or at least try to.

Maybe that’s why Sydney managed to convince you to go to the party. Your broken heart needs it, needs the liveliness of a crowded dancefloor, the thumping of the beat, and most importantly, you need to get out of your room.

Getting locked up in here won’t fix your broken heart after all. It didn’t when you and Jungkook broke up - a drunk evening during Frosh week where you kissed seven different guys did it instead - so you figure that going to that party tonight might help.

Not that you think you will drink tonight. You’ve stopped drinking after that Frosh week party, ashamed of what you’d done and not wanting to repeat that or the hangover that followed.

Still, you reckon going out tonight might help, and you’re clinging to that hope. Especially considering that Yunho confirmed San wouldn’t be there according to Hongjoong, so you don’t have to worry about running into him.

Even though you want to move on, you don’t think you’re ready to see him again. Hell, you don’t think you’ll be ready at the beginning of the next semester either, but at least you’ll have the holidays to try and get better.

Starting tonight.

“Are you guys almost ready?” Yunho asks, startling you as he appears in the doorway to your room.

Luckily enough, you manage not to mess up your eyeliner, and you turn to look at him. “Give me like fifteen minutes.”

He nods, his eyes trailing to Sydney. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’ll have whatever you have,” she tells him, looking up from her phone. Her cheeks redden as her gaze meets your brother’s, and you roll your eyes at the sight before focusing on doing your makeup again.

You end up finishing your makeup while Sydney and Yunho chat next to you, their chatter happy now that the semester is over. 

You can barely believe it’s over. You feel like you still have finals to study for, but you finished your last one yesterday, while Sydney and Yunho finished today. You’re luckier than Hongjoong. Indeed, Yunho mentioned that Hongjoong has a final next Monday, and you really don’t envy him.

Next Monday, you’ll be heading back home with Yunho and Sydney for the holidays, and you’re already looking forward to your mother’s comforting food and to Christmas Eve along with your family, Sydney’s and Mingi's. Though you don't think Mingi himself will be there.

“I’m done,” you say after you’ve sprayed your setting spray on your face. 

You take a look at yourself in the mirror, making sure that your makeup look is perfect, and then you turn towards your brother and Sydney.

They’re both looking at you, and Sydney smiles widely as she takes in the sight of your makeup. “You look amazing.”

“It took you an hour to do this?” Yunho complains, earning an elbow in the ribs from your best friend.

That shuts him up, and you kick them out of your room so that you can change into the outfit you chose for the party - a pair of black jeans along with a sage green corset - and then you meet them in the hall, where they’ve chugged the rest of their drinks while waiting for you.

It doesn’t take you long before you’ve all put your boots and coats on, and then you head out into the lazy snowfall, waiting on the sidewalk for the Uber that Yunho called. 

“I heard there will be a snowstorm during the night,” Sydney says pensively as she looks up at the sky, taking in the slowly-falling snowflakes.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Yunho replies. “Hopefully it stays like this until we’re back home. Don’t want to come back in a snowstorm.”

“We can just check to see what it looks like once in a while and leave if it looks like it’s getting bad,” you suggest.

Sydney and Yunho glance at you, nodding their heads at the same time. It looks funny, and you snort, which earns you a cocked eyebrow from Yunho and a chuckle from Sydney. Before you all can say anything else, the Uber arrives, and Yunho sits in the front while you and Sydney get the backseat.

The ride is uneventful, silent as the driver doesn’t even put music on. You’re all too shy to ask him to turn the radio on, so it’s just awkward silence until he drops you in front of the frat house, and you get out of the car, thanking him for driving you. He wishes you all a good evening, and then he’s driving off, and you turn to face the house.

“Ready?” Sydney asks as she hooks her arm with yours. 

“If you don’t abandon me for this loser,” you say pointing towards your brother, “yes, I’m ready.”

She snorts while he makes an offended sound. “As if I would.”

You all walk towards the house, the loud music muffled until a guy opens the door and runs outside, laughing. He waves at you all, and you just look at him while he jogs away, your brow creasing in confusion. Though you don’t think about it for too long - the second you walk into the crowded house, you forget all about that guy, the warmth enveloping you in a tight embrace.

“Holy shit, it’s hot in here,” Sydney complains.

“It is,” you agree. “Let’s go take off our coats.”

You all do so, dropping them off at a coat check managed by two guys looking drunk out of their mind and a visibly sober one that keeps cursing the others. It’s better than leaving your coat in a room like you usually do, but you do have to pay two dollars for it, which the guy explains is to finance the first party of the next semester.

“Y’all should come,” he says. “We’ll even hire a DJ.”

Hence the money, you assume.

“We’ll be there,” Yunho answers for all of you, and then you walk away, letting the two girls behind you drop their coats off too.

“Drinks?” Sydney asks. 

“If I can mix myself something virgin then, yes,” you reply.

It doesn’t take more than that for the three of you to head to the drinks table, and you end up mixing orange juice, grenadine and sprite for yourself while Sydney and Yunho make rum-and-cokes for themselves. Drinks in hand, you then walk over to the three beer pong tables in a corner, where you find Seonghwa and Hongjoong playing against two girls you don’t know.

You spend the next hour playing beer pong - you team up with Seonghwa when Yunho insists in playing with his girlfriend, and you’re eventually joined by Yeosang, Jongho and Lyla, who all greet you like there’s no awkwardness between you.

You appreciate it. Even though they’re San’s friends first and foremost, you do enjoy their company. You end up playing with Sydney against Jongho and Lyla, and you’re getting crushed when Wooyoung’s unmistakable loud yapping gets to your ears. 

You turn your head in the direction of the sound, your heartbeat increasing as you think you might see San, too, but it’s just Wooyoung, Yeosang and Hongjoong, with Wooyoung speaking quickly about something that seems to be hilarious to Yeosang and embarrassing to Hongjoong.

You look away, relieved that San isn’t here, though your heart twists uncomfortably in your chest at the thought of him. You push the feelings away, try not to remember the tears on his cheeks last week, and Jongho throwing the ball in the last solo cup on the table makes for a good distraction, especially as Sydney shrieks next to you.

“Redemption!” she yells.

“Good luck,” Lyla says from across the table, smiling mischievously.

“Hey, are y’all almost done?” a guy asks.

You meet his gaze, and the small smile on his lips attracts your eyes. You feel like time slows, and your cheek burns as Sydney replies, “Nah, I’m getting this shot.”

“Take your time,” the guy says. “My friends aren’t even here yet.”

You glance around, and he’s indeed currently alone, though he gives you a small polite nod when you look at him again. 

Sydney shoots, and you focus on the game again as she actually makes the redemption. She yells in victory, pulling you into a hug that can only be explained by the alcohol already swimming in her bloodstream, and then you go back to playing.

The guy remains next to the table as you play, hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall, and you smile at him when your gazes connect again, before focusing on throwing.

You manage to get the ball in one of the last two glasses, and Sydney jumps excitedly. 

“Oh, we’re so winning.”

You doubt it - Jongho locks in for his next throw, getting it in the glass and, to nobody’s surprise considering Lyla’s perfect aim, she also gets it in. You and Sydney would both need to score a redemption to keep going and, distracted by the guy as he says to a tall, buff man that they can play next, you miss your redemption.

“Noooo,” Sydney yells in defeat. “We were so close.”

You laugh, pulling on her arm as the guy pushes off the wall so that you can move out of the way. The laugh is refreshing - tonight, San is far from your thoughts. He lingers in a corner, never fully gone, but you think the energy of the evening has been getting to you.

You really did need to let loose to start moving on, didn’t you?

Or maybe you needed the wakeup call that last Friday was, especially as it was followed by silence on his side. Not that you expected him to text you - though you told him about what happened after you told Jungkook about the cheating, you didn’t explain how you ended up cheating.

San doesn’t know you cheated on Jungkook because he hadn’t communicated with you in any ways whatsoever for weeks, leading you to believe you were already broken up. Not that you think it matters - San’s dislike of cheaters runs far too deep for him to accept you ever did that.

Or so you’ve been telling yourself. You reckon it helps with trying to move on - does it really? - and so you’ve been clinging to that thought like it’s a life buoy in a storm.

“Why do you look so sad?” Sydney asks. “We can beat them in another game.”

You blink a few times, the party coming back into focus. “Damn, sorry, I went somewhere else.”

She chuckles. “Noticed that. Want another drink?”

You left your empty solo cup on the side of the table, and you make to reach for it, though you get confused with another drink.

“Wait,” the guy from before says. “That’s mine.”

“Shit, my bad,” you apologize, cheeks burning. “I don’t know which one is mine.”

He offers you an easy smile. “No worries. I doubt you feel like drinking only orange juice at a party anyway.”

“You’d be surprised,” you say, laughing lightly. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Then what’s in that cup?” he says, gazing into the solo cup you’ve grabbed which still contains a tiny bit of the drink you mixed earlier. “Looks an awful lot like alcohol,” he teases.

“It’s virgin,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. 

His gaze widens, and the easy smile returns to his lips. “A fellow non-drinker,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“I’m Minghao,” the guy says, offering you his hand to shake.

“Y/n,” you reply as you shake hands.

His fingers linger on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and your cheeks are burning when he lets go, clearing his throat.

“I’ll let you go back to your friends,” Minghao says, flashing a last friendly smile. 

You only notice then that Sydney is waiting behind you with a smiling Lyla, and your throat dries out. You swallow once, almost choking on it, wishing Minghao a good evening before you turn and head to the girls.

“What was that?” Sydney asks.

“Go get it, girl,” Lyla teases.

Sydney frowns. “Are you sure about this?”

“We were just talking,” you say, gaze dropping to the ground as if you’re guilty of a crime.

“It’s just…” she trails off, glancing at Lyla, clearly not wanting to say her next words in front of the girl. “I don’t want you to rush into something too quickly.”

Lyla’s smile fades. 

“I’m not ready to be with anyone else,” you reassure Sydney. “I just think it might be time to move on, you know?”

Sydney holds your gaze for a few seconds, clearly trying to make sure that you mean what you said, and then she nods once. “Alright. Then I support you.”

Yet her reticence troubles you more than you try to let it on, thoughts of you and San swirling in your head as you watch the liquid in your cup swirl around while you’re mixing a new virgin drink. It troubles you so much you find yourself wanting some peace and quiet for a time, so you tell Sydney that you need to go to the bathroom, declining her offer to accompany you.

“Just wait here,” you tell her and Lyla. “I’ll be quick.”

The girls agree, and you head towards where you assume the bathroom is. Turns out you were wrong, as you find a dark bedroom, but two girls notice you and tell you to head down the hall. You thank them, and then you make your way to the bathroom, stopping outside behind two guys playfully pushing each other.

You lean against the wall, grabbing your phone from your back pocket, and you scroll on Instagram as you wait, though you’re soon interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Y/n?”

You raise your head, eyes a little wide, to find Jimin standing there. He cracks a smile that looks far more awkward than his usual, though it might just be because you haven’t seen him in years except at the Halloween party, and you didn’t really talk then.

“Jimin,” you reply.

It takes another second for your heart to start beating wildly in your chest, anxiety flooding you at the thought that Jungkook might very well be at this party too.

“How have you been?” Jimin asks.

You glance to your left, where one of the guys remains - the other having most likely gone into the bathroom - but you find no salvation from the conversation.

“Ah, I’ve been okay,” you say, your tone clipped. “You?”

“I’ve been great,” he replies. He looks over his shoulder, where the party is unfolding. “Listen, I just want to tell you quickly.” He pauses, and you cock an eyebrow in question, the beating of the organ in your chest now painfully quick. “I make sure he doesn’t date other people. I’ve told all the girls after you what happened with you.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you escape his open gaze, looking down at your drink. “I don’t care.”

It’s a lie, and Jimin knows just as well as you.

“I just…” Jimin trails off. He takes a deep breath, and then adds, “Please never feel guilty. For everything that happened.”

Tears suddenly prick at your eyes, but you blink them away. “It’s a little late to be telling me this.”

“I know.” He sighs. “We got in a fight when he talked to the guy you were seeing. He’s still so fucking bitter about it all, even after Yoongi and I forced him to get therapy.”

Probably because Jungkook doesn’t think he needs to change. But you don’t tell that to Jimin - Jungkook is not your responsibility.

“Hope the therapy helped.”

You turn away from Jimin, but he grabs your arm gently to gain your attention again. “I don’t condone his actions,” he says. He adds your name, and then continues, “You were my friend, too. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let him do to someone else what he did to you.” He closes his eyes as his hand drops to his side. “That’s why I stayed friends with him.”

“Does he know that?”

You’re not sure it matters, yet the question hangs in the air between the two of you, and Jimin nods his head as he meets your gaze again.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve told him.” Jimin chuckles bitterly. “I think he hates me for it a little bit, but he’s never been an ass to me. Some part of him probably sees it as a good thing.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “And how’s that?”

“He won’t say it, but we all know he regrets his behaviour,” Jimin says, and he raises his hands in defense when you scoff, rolling your eyes. “It does not excuse it at all, and that’s not what I’m trying to say. But I think he’s afraid it might happen again so… making sure he doesn’t get close to dating anyone helps him, you know?”

“I don’t think he deserves any help.”

Jimin remains silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. “And that’s understandable. I just wanted you to know…” He pauses, slightly shaking his head. “I actually don’t know why I wanted you to know.”

You think you do, but you don’t want to say it. Not when you made your peace with the fact that you’re not friends with him anymore so long ago.

He’s guilty. Park Jimin is feeling guilty for what happened between you and Jeon Jungkook, and you think it’s ironic. It’s ironic, because he was there sometimes when Jungkook got angry at you and screamed in your face. He remained silent, though Jungkook told you a couple of times that Jimin gave him shit for it when they were alone next. Jungkook used to say it like a joke, but maybe…

Maybe Jimin was trying to protect you in some way. And maybe now he’s making sure no one else ever is in a position to be hurt by Jungkook like he hurt you.

“It’s okay, Jimin,” you say with a small voice. “I was bitter when you and Yoongi chose Jungkook’s side, but it’s been a long time. I’ve moved on.”

“I know…” Jimin wets his lips, glancing to the now open bathroom door as the two guys have gone and left. “He’s a dick. Jungkook is a fucking dick, but he’s been getting better. The therapy has actually helped him.”

“I don’t really want to know,” you say, your voice smaller. “I appreciate you telling me all of this but… Jungkook will always be the villain in my story. No matter what you say.”

“I respect that,” Jimin replies with a small nod.

Just don’t make me a villain too.

He doesn’t say it, but you hear the words nonetheless. They hang in the air between the two of you and realization suddenly hits you.

“Are you telling me this because of Wooyoung?” you ask.

As the blood drains from Jimin’s features, you know you’re right.

“He’s mad at me and doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” Jimin admits, his gaze dropping to the ground. 

“That’s none of my business, Jimin.” You put your phone back in your back pocket. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

This time, Jimin doesn’t try to stop you, and you shut the bathroom door behind you, leaning against it. 

You don’t know what to think of the whole interaction. Hell, some part of you wants to believe Jimin was being genuine… but did he only tell you this so that you could have his back with Wooyoung?

What a fucking asshole.

You shake your head, pushing the whole conversation away from your mind. You’ll think about it later, when you’re not at a party trying to enjoy yourself with your friends for the first time ever since you and Choi San ended. You deserve an evening to yourself, deserve not to be fucking pitying yourself over what happened three years ago once again.

You’ll have plenty of time to break down tomorrow. To cry like your heart wants you to, to break like you’re on the verge of breaking. 

Not tonight. You won’t allow yourself to break tonight.

You don’t know how you do it. Hell, you think you might have been possessed by some spiteful demon, giving you the strength you need to push up from the door and walk back out of the bathroom after you’ve peed and washed your hands. But you manage to do it, and Jimin is nowhere near when you walk back into the crowd, which is a relief.

You might have punched him if you saw him now.

You make your way back to where Sydney and Lyla should be waiting for you, but you bump into someone on the way, your drink spilling on their white shirt a little bit.

It’s nothing too bad, but you still quickly apologize, “Shit, sorry.”

The person turns around, and it’s none other than Minghao, who tries to look over his shoulder at the damage on his back. “Hey, Y/n. Don’t worry about that, I have a dozen white t-shirts back at home.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again.

“Nah,” he says. “It really is okay. I was leaving soon anyway.”

“Oh…” you let out, not knowing what else to say.

“Not because of you!” he quickly adds, as if he thinks you might not believe him. “I have an early flight tomorrow morning, and I don’t usually do parties like this anyway so…”

He’s nice. He’s nice, and right now, you’re feeling spiteful. So why not take advantage of it?

“Oh, where are you flying to?” you ask, stepping just a little closer.

“China,” he replies. “I’m visiting my family for the holidays.

“Oh, that sounds fun.” You take a sip of your drink, and you don’t miss the way his gaze drops to your mouth when you wet your lips. “Want some?”

“You swear there’s no alcohol in there?” he asks.

You chuckle, nodding your head. “I quit drinking three years ago, you have nothing to worry about.”

In an act of trust, Minghao grabs your cup, his fingers brushing against yours, and he takes a sip. His eyes widen in surprise as he gives you the drink back. “Not too bad,” he praises. “It actually tastes pretty good.”

“I know, right?” you say excitedly. “And no one knows I’m not drinking, so they can’t call me lame.”

He laughs. “If they think you not drinking is lame, then they’re the problem.”

You smile. “Agreed.”

Minghao nods, and then he looks around. You’re in the middle of the dancefloor, and it seems he’s noticed it too. Because he asks, “Do you want to dance?”

Your smile turns into a smirk, and you down your drink, grabbing Minghao’s hands as you take a few steps through the crowd to drop the empty cup in the trash can.

“Yes, I want to dance.”

He pulls you back towards the dance floor, and it’s not long before you’re dancing together, his body flowing with the rhythm like he’s made of liquid. Though San is an amazing dancer, Minghao moves in a way that steals your breath, and you don’t resist when he pulls you closer, nudging his knee between your legs as his forehead rests against yours.

“You know,” he lets out. “I really don’t come to parties often but…” He chuckles. “I’m really happy I came here tonight?”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

He nods, his nose brushing against yours from the motion. “Definitely.”

He pulls away, and then he spins you around, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back against him. You grind against him, follow the rhythm of the music as he keeps guiding you, and your core goes molten.

What a nice distraction indeed, you can’t help but think as Minghao pulls your hair over your shoulder, his lips ghosting on the side of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, and you just dance and dance, enjoying the warm press of his body against yours.

“Shit,” Minghao curses. “Now, I kind of wish I wasn’t leaving for China tomorrow.”

You laugh. “You’ll come back, yeah?”

“Right before the next semester starts,” he reveals.

Perfect.

“Maybe we can hang out then?” you suggest.

You open your eyes. You’d meant to turn your head and look at him, but you freeze at the sight of the man standing in front of you, his doe eyes wide in surprise.

And then he bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

Minghao looks up from your neck, and you can feel him tense as he looks at Jungkook. “You have a boyfriend?” he asks in offense, stepping away from you.

“No,” you quickly say. “What the fuck do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook tilts his head to the side. “Weren’t you fucking that guy? Choi San?”

You’ll kill him. You want to fucking kill Jeon Jungkook.

Hell, you should have killed him that August night years ago.

“We don’t talk anymore,” you say, and you turn to meet Minghao’s gaze. “Please don’t listen to him.”

Minghao looks between you and Jungkook. “Listen, I don’t want to stir shit or anything. I’ll let you guys talk.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as he turns and walks away, and you make to run after him, but Jungkook’s tattooed hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Fear sinks in your entire body as he turns you around, his firm grip around your arm tight enough to hurt.

“Let me go.”

He does. He lets you go, looking down at your wrist as you rub yourself.

“My bad.”

You laugh. It’s hysterical, crazed. “Fuck off, Jungkook. Can’t you just fucking move on?”

There are tears in your eyes now, blurring your gaze so thoroughly that you can’t even recognize Jungkook anymore.

“Oh, trust me, I have.” He shakes his head. “Just didn’t think I’d run into you again. Didn’t think you could stir shit in my life again, either.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” 

He clenches his jaw. “Jimin just told me to go fuck myself. I assume your little conversation with him had something to do with that?”

So Jungkook saw you talking to Jimin earlier.

You look around, hoping that someone will notice the fight, but everyone around you is too focused on dancing, and the music is loud enough to cover your words.

“Jimin’s the one that came to talk to me,” you spit in Jungkook’s face. “Maybe you’re just shit at respecting people.”

You don’t know where your courage is coming from, but you feel like you’re cresting a wave, the high unlike any you’ve felt before.

Jungkook laughs bitterly. “How cute. You really think a slut like you knows anything about keeping a relationship?” He shakes his head. “Poor San. You’re already grinding on another guy’s dick. You really are a fucking whore.”

The wave disappears from under you, swallowed back into the sea, and you crash. You crash, hitting the water so hard it might have been concrete, and your mouth hangs open, no words coming out.

“That’s what I thought,” Jungkook lets out arrogantly. “You’d think therapy would help you but nah, you’re still just a fucking slut.”

You swallow, the sea around you turning to ice, freezing everything in you. “You’re so immature you can’t even think about a better insult than that.”

You spin on your heels, walking away from Jungkook. Walking away from the hell that he is, yet the ice clings to your chest, turning your blood into little crystals that cut as they flow through your veins.

It hurts. Everything hurts, and you’re not moving on. You’re not moving on from Choi San, not tonight, not ever. Because you were thinking about him all evening. Even with Minghao, San was in your thoughts, in your soul.

Maybe Jungkook’s right in all his immaturity. Maybe you really are just a fucking slut, bound to break all your relationships with your actions.

You don’t find Sydney next to the drink tables. Lyla is gone, too, and the betrayal sinks in your chest, adding to the ice that’s already collected in your heart. But there is an almost full bottle of whiskey on the table and, surely no one would notice if you took it?

The weight is heavy in your hand as you grab the bottle, and you don’t stop to think about what you’re doing. Don’t stop as you walk away, heading towards the front door. All you can hear is what Jungkook said, his words louder than the music, and you need to get out, need to stop fucking feeling everything so much.

The world outside is frozen, though you’re unsure if it rivals the ice in your chest. And still Jungkook’s words echo in your head, over and over and over again, and all you want to do is scream. 

You want to scream and rip your vocal chords to shreds. Rip your heart from your chest too, if only so that it’ll stop hurting. So that the trauma will not seek back into your bones, so that you’ll forget that after everything, he is the one that ruined whatever it was that you were building with San.

But what were you even building? A big pile of nothing. Nothing that felt like everything and left you scrambling for air, but you’re drowning.

You’ve been drowning since the soccer game. Since even before then, when you understood that San was ghosting you. It’s unfair - how bad is your karma for the past coming to steal your future from you?

The bottle really is heavy in your hand. You know it’s wrong, know you shouldn’t drink, but you don’t want to think. You want to cleanse your inside, to root out the infection that’s festering in your chest, all caused by a man that should have stayed out of your life.

You hate Jungkook. You hate him with a vengeance. Hate that he stole your heart and your confidence and your self-love and every little thing that your parents worked so hard to build when you were growing up.

He destroyed you once - why did you think he wouldn’t do it again?

It’s cold. You shiver, yet you push through, walking away from the party, clutching the bottle of hard liquor like it’s a lighthouse in a storm. The snow falls heavily, and the snowflakes melt as they touch your skin.

Maybe you’ll freeze and die. Maybe that’s what you deserve.

The first swig of alcohol you take is bitter, more bitter than the emotions in your chest. It burns as it goes down, and you close your eyes, try to ignore the way someone is screaming in your head.

You walk and walk, the cold becoming a numb feeling in the distance of your conscience, and you find a park bench. It’s half covered with snow, and you don’t even bother brushing it off before plopping down on the bench, leaning back against it.

And then you’re folding on yourself, your nails digging in your palm as you clench your fist hoping that the physical pain might take away the emotional one. You take a swig of alcohol, swallow with a wince and then you drink again.

The months flash in your mind. That first night when San baked you a cake. When you sucked his dick, and then tried to pretend that you weren’t falling for him. That every time he talked to you, your heart didn’t flutter in your chest. Up until the wine and cheese, when he looked at you with so much reverence you just said ‘fuck it’ and jumped in feet first into what you now know was just a situationship.

Who cares if he told you on that Wednesday night that he was falling for you? Who cares that you told him you were falling, too?

The pain is everlasting, now a constant in your life. You hate it, wish you could take the months back. You wish you could erase the whole of your relationship with San from your mind, and you think maybe the fifth sip of alcohol will do it.

By the tenth, your mind grows fuzzy, and you sit back on the bench, eyes closed as you take in the numb feeling growing through you. 

You’re aware you should have known better. At least that’s what you tell yourself much later, when the cold keeps you in a perpetual shivering form, and the bottle is much lighter in your hand. You feel like an idiot then, and you pull your phone out of your pocket.

It’s blurry in your hand - everything has been blurry for a while now. You squint as you try to make sense of it, and your shaking finger wanders on the screen until you’re on the conversation with San. 

You miss him with a vengeance. Wish the project was not done, that you’d still have one more moment with him, no matter how much it would hurt. You wish you could undo everything with Jungkook, wish you’d never talked to Mingi that night. Everything blurs in together until your thoughts don’t make any sense anymore, and you press call, putting the phone against your ear.

You just want to say goodbye. Because you didn’t say goodbye last Friday, just walked away like he never mattered.

It rings and rings. You know he won’t pick up - he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with you, hasn’t he? Yet when his voice fills your ear, your heart strains, reaching for him like it’s been for weeks now. 

But he’s nowhere near, long gone.

There’s the beep that indicates you can talk, and you open your mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what to say, what message you should leave for him.

You settle on, “Hey, San.” 

The snow falls softly around you, having slowed down for now. The cold isn’t as intense anymore, having turned into numbness that you can practically ignore. The streetlight in front of you shines bright, the snowflakes turning iridescent in the light, and you watch, transfixed by the sight.

“I…” You hiccup. “Shit, sorry. I called because…”

Your speech is slurred. You curse under your breath, shaking your head. “Damn, my bad. I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I miss you.” You frown momentarily. “I miss us. Hope you’re doing okay. I really miss you.”

You make no sense. You’re aware that you’re drunk and make no sense and that you should probably just disappear through the ground. But the dam has been broken, and words flood out.

“I’m sorry I did-” Another hiccup interrupts you. “I didn’t tell you before about Jungkook. I wish I had. I’m not even mad at you considering everything you told me. I just… I was really falling for you and I was so afraid to lose you.”

There are tears on your cheeks - or are those melted snowflakes?

“I still did,” you add. “I miss you. I miss your box cakes. I miss Byeol. How is she? I really hope she’s okay, she’s the best. Oh, and I hope you still sleep with Mr Snake.” You snort as you think of the plush toy. “Please hold him tight for me. And if…”

“Y/n?” 

You fall silent, still staring at the light in front of you.

“Hello?”

It’s his voice. You’d recognize it in a crowded room. It just doesn’t make sense - why are you hearing his voice right now?

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“San?”

“Y/n,” he repeats, relief flooding his words. “Is everything okay?”

“How?” you ask. “I was leaving a message.”

“I know,” San says. “Where are you?”

You look around yourself as if maybe he’ll appear from behind one of the cars parked on the street. “I’m in a park,” you say. “Well, next to a park on the side of the street.”

“Have you had something to drink?”

You laugh, looking at the bottle. How long has it been empty for?

“Yeah.” You snort. “I’m sorry I didn’t drink with you. You really wanted us to have a drink together.”

“I didn’t,” San says, and something breaks in your chest. “Can you drop your location?”

“You said you wanted us to have a drink together,” you say with a small voice.

Fresh tears roll on your cheeks.

“Yes, yes I did… can you give me your location?”

“Why?”

You can almost imagine him rubbing his face on his side of the line. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle. “What about it?”

“It’s cold outside,” he points out.

“Why do you care?”

There’s a silence. You think he’s questioning himself, because you sure as hell don’t understand why he cares. Why he suddenly deemed you worthy enough of talking to you. But then you think about the tears on his cheeks when you told him about Jungkook last week, and you understand.

“I want to make sure you’re safe,” he gently says. “Please, Y/n.”

“San…” you let out, and a sob breaks your next word. You try again, “I can’t see you. It hurts so much.”

“Can your brother come pick you up?” San asks, and there’s despair in his voice. 

“He’s at the party,” you answer. “He’s drunk.”

“What about Syd?”

“She’s with him.” Probably.

San curses, and you’d flinch if you weren’t so damn numb. “Please tell me exactly where you are.” He sniffles. “Shit, Y/n, please.”

You’re crying. Sobbing even, when you open your google maps and take a screenshot of your location. 

“Does this help?” you ask as you send the screenshot.

“Can you share your location too?” You nod even though he can’t see it, and then proceed to do so. “Thank you.” Now, he sounds relieved. “Fuck, Y/n, I’m on my way, okay?”

“It’s cold,” you point out. “You shouldn’t come outside.”

“I don’t care.” You hear the sounds of keys on his side of the line, and then a door closing. “It’s a five minute walk.”

“I can walk,” you say, hiccuping. You get up, swaying on your feet. “Damn, I don’t like this.”

“What’s wrong?” San asks.

“I’m so drunk.”

“It’s okay, Y/n, it’s okay,” he reassures you. “I’ll be with you soon.”

You cry even more at his words, and you take a few tumbling steps in the direction of his apartment.

Because of course you’d been walking towards him earlier. It was always leading to him.

“Don’t move,” San says, having probably figured out that you’re walking too. 

“I’m heading towards you,” you say. And you are. Somehow, you’re standing, and walking, and though the world is spinning around you, you have a clear goal in mind.

“Stay on the boulevard,” San tells you. “I’ll be there soon.”

You’re generally a fast walker, yet tonight your feet feel like lead, and it’s hard to take a step. But you push through, tears streaming down your face, mind buzzing with far too much alcohol, if only because there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Someone honks on the street, and you startle, letting out a small yell.

San’s worried voice immediately comes to your ear. “Are you okay?”

“I think someone honked at me,” you slur.

“I’m turning on the boulevard now.”

You stop. You stop because, sure enough, Choi San appears on the corner of the street, and his gaze immediately finds you. He’s still holding his phone to his ear but, the second you dash in his direction, he jogs towards you too.

You’re lighter than the wind now. Lighter than a single molecule of air, and you run towards San, run towards his open arms.

Everything, always, led to Choi San. 

Not even Jeon Jungkook could stop that.

“Y/n,” San says, voice strained, as he nears you. He’s got tears on his cheeks, but you barely notice them as you crash into him.

He picks you up, wrapping his large arms around you in a tight embrace, and you hide your face in his neck, the warmth of his skin seeping into your cold face.

“Where’s your coat?” he asks.

You can’t reply. You’re crying, shaking, and you think you might very well be sick in the next five minutes.

“San,” you choke out in between sobs. “Oh, San.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

He puts you down, and you look up to meet his worried gaze. 

“I…” Goosebumps prick your arms. “I’ve been outside for a long time.”

San lets you go, taking off his coat in one swift motion. He drapes it over you, and the warmth wraps around you, taming the most intense of your shivers.

“You’ll get sick,” he tries to scold, but his voice is lacking any bite.

“Why did you come?” you ask.

“Let’s go inside,” San replies. “Shit, Y/n, you could have died in this cold.”

You don’t really register his words, your gaze dropping down to his chest. You’re face to face with his chiseled muscles, as he’s wearing the same compression shirt he’d been wearing that first night in September.

“You’re here,” you say, and you raise a shaky hand, putting it on his chest.

His heart races under your fingers, and he covers your hand with his. “I’m here,” he whispers back.

It feels like a dream. Like maybe you died on the park bench, and this is what’s greeting you in your own personal heaven. Though you’ve never been a believer in heaven and hell, San being in front of you right now does make you believe.

He entwines his fingers with yours. “Let’s go to my place.”

You don’t move when he starts walking, tears still streaming down your face.

He whispers your name, cupping your cheek gently. And then he swipes his thumb under your eye. “Come with me, okay?”

You nod. “Okay.”

San tugs on your hand and this time, you follow him, putting one foot in front of the other despite the swaying of the world around you. The blizzard returns once you’re walking down San’s street, muffling the crunching of the snow under the soles of your shoes, and San pulls you a little bit closer.

“You must be freezing,” you let out as you shiver forcefully.

San shrugs. “It’s okay, we’re almost there.”

And he’s right. A few minutes later, he opens the door of his building for you to walk in, and you do so, still shivering wildly despite the heat surrounding you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” San curses as he notices your shivering. “You’re taking a hot shower when we get in, alright?”

His tone is gentle, kind, yet your mind zeroes in on the nausea that’s slowly raising in your stomach.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you whisper.

It gets even worse when the elevator lurches upwards - when did you even get in the elevator? - and you shut your eyes, immediately opening them again when the spinning gets even worse.

“Just hold on a little longer,” San encourages you. “We’re almost there.”

You think there has to be a god above who intervenes because, you somehow manage to not get sick until you’re in San’s apartment, Byeol meowling in question from behind the bathroom’s closed door.

San holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail, rubbing your back as you throw up again and again. You don’t know how long it lasts - you barely remember how you even made it to the toilet at all - but soon you manage to sit back, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your throat burns, and you look at San through teary eyes.

“Water?” he asks, and he’s somehow already holding a glass of water.

You take it with trembling hands, and he doesn’t let it go, helping you to bring it to your lips. You take a tiny sip that makes your stomach lurch once more, and you push the glass away.

“I think I’ll be sick again,” you say, your voice scrappy. 

“Then we can wait before making you drink water, but you have to drink some water before sleeping, okay?”

You nod. “Yes.”

San shifts, moving out of the way so that you can sit with your back against the cupboard under the sink. You lean your head against it, taking a deep breath that burns as it passes through your throat.

San gets up, and you hear him turn on the faucet for a few seconds before he sits back down in front of you. “Here,” he says, and he reaches towards your face.

You flinch, brow creasing as you try to figure out what he has in his hands. It comes into focus after two blinks, the washcloth he wet wrapped around his fingers.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I don’t have makeup wipes, but I can try removing your makeup with this?”

You meet his gaze, and then your eyes flutter shut again. “Good luck. It’s waterproof.”

San doesn’t say anything and, a second later, you feel the cool, damp cloth as he presses it on your forehead. He rubs gently, clearly not hard enough to remove all of your makeup, but it feels soothing with the nausea that’s yet to recede, so you let him do it.

He takes his sweet time in cleaning your face. Or at least it feels like it, as you doze off, startling awake when he says your name.

“What?” you ask, your eyes shooting open.

He’s holding the glass of water, and he hands it to you. “We said you have to drink water before sleeping,” he reminds you.

You look at the clear water sloshing in the glass as he pushes it closer to you. It takes a herculean effort, but you manage to grab the glass, taking a sip from it. And then another, relieved as the initial burn goes away the more you drink.

You end up chugging the whole glass, and San gives you a proud smile before grabbing it from your hands, putting it on the counter.

“Do you want to sleep it off?” he asks.

You’re not quite sure what the ‘it’ refers to - is he talking about the heartache in your chest, or the alcohol in your blood?

Is he talking about both? Or about the way he came to you in the freezing cold, taking you home with him?

“I left my coat at the party.”

The realization comes out of nowhere, yet it has tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’ve texted your brother,” San admits. “Apparently, Syd had the ticket thingy to get it, so they grabbed it before leaving.”

The words are relieving, and you take a deep breath. “I’m going to be sick.” 

Right on cue, you shiver, and you pull your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“You can throw up some more if you need to,” San says gently.

“No, I…” you trail off. “I’m really cold.”

“Oh.” He looks to the side, and your gaze follows. “Do you want to take a shower? That might warm you up.”

“That sounds… tiring.”

“I’ll help you,” he suggests. 

You snort. “You’re trying to see me naked?”

His gaze widens, pink dusting his cheeks. “Not really. I just don’t want you to slip.”

There’s a hole in your memory then. It’s like someone unplugged the cord, and then you’re in the shower, hot water running along your body. 

You look to the side, and San’s sitting on the toilet, his form blurry because of the steam and condensation that covered the glass of the shower. Your heart aches in your chest, and a tear rolls down your cheek, mingling with the water of the shower.

“San?” you let out.

He straightens, looking your way. “Yes?”

“I don’t feel good.”

A second later, you’re throwing up again, and it washes away down the drain of the shower. San pulls the glass door open slightly, and you’d be embarrassed about him seeing you in such a vulnerable position if you weren’t so damn drunk, and sad, and breaking, and broken.

San hesitates for all of a second, getting into the shower with all of his clothes on. He grabs you in his arms, pulling you in his strong embrace.

“It’s okay,” he whispers soothingly as you burst into tears. “It’s okay. I’m with you.”

“Jungkook was there,” you say as you sob against his chest. “I feel like shit.”

He remains silent, though he rubs your back as you cry, clearly not caring that his clothes are drenched from the water now.

You don’t really care either. You break in his hold, and it’s like he’s holding your pieces together - for tonight at least. And you cling to the feeling of his arms around you, drunkenly try to commit it to memory, though you doubt it works.

You won’t remember most of what happened tonight, will you?

“Do you think you need to throw up again?” San asks once your sobbing recedes, and you just rest your head on his chest, not moving.

“Think am good,” you reply.

“Let’s get you out of here, then.”

He doesn’t make to move just yet, waiting for you to agree. When you nod against him, San bends to turn the shower off, one arm still around you, and then he guides you out of the shower, wrapping you in a soft towel.

“Let me just…” he trails off, and he takes his clothes off, leaving just his boxers on as you stand there and look at him. 

It doesn’t take too long, and then he’s offering you his hand to take. You look at it as if it’s foreign, your drunk mind in another episode lacking lucidity.

“Wait,” he says. “Water first.”

He refills the glass from before, helping you drink again. You take small sips, not chugging the glass this time. San puts it away when it’s still halfway full, and his eyes stop on a bottle of mouthwash next to his toothbrush.

“Do you want to rinse your mouth?” he asks.

You nod. “Please.”

He pours some mouthwash in the cap of the bottle, handing it to you like a small shot glass. “Careful not to swallow it.”

You do your best, rinsing your mouth as best as you can, the mouthwash burning slightly. You spit in the sink, and then you straighten, looking back at San as you hand him the cap.

“Good,” he says. “Let’s get you to bed, now.”

“I should go home,” you slur.

“Tomorrow,” he reassures you. “You can have my bed and I’ll get you home tomorrow, okay?”

Your eyes blur with tears again. “I shouldn’t sleep over.”

“It’s okay, I promise.” He steps closer to you, cupping your cheeks to make you look up at him. “Right now, you really need to sleep it off.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Besides, you can’t go outside with your hair wet like that.”

You hum, not finding anything to reply as you look into his eyes, finding too much softness for your own good there.

Because right there in front of you is the San you were falling for. Not the one that ghosted you, that hated you for cheating on your ex and lying to him about it. No, this is San. Your San. The one who whispered sweet nothings in your ear while making love to you in the dead of night. The one who won a plush toy at the arcade for you because you wanted him to, the one who bought the decoration you suggested at Ikea because you begged him to.

This is your San, and you don’t want to let him go just yet. Not when you know you’ll go back to reality tomorrow, and you’ll go to bed tomorrow night having lost him again.

“Bed time?” San asks when you remain silent.

You nod your head yes, and he smiles, a dimple showing on his cheek. You feel like crying at the sight, but your eyes don’t water this time around. Only your heart strains, and you look away from him, unable to hold his gaze anymore.

San guides you to his room, where his unmade bed waits for you. He helps you dry yourself with the towel, and then gives you a t-shirt to wear while sleeping. It’s soft on your skin, and you rub the fabric between your index and thumb as San pulls the comforter off his bed enough for you to climb underneath.

You lay your head on the pillow, lying down in sheets that smell like him, that smell like home, and your gaze widens when he hands you a familiar plushie.

“Here,” he says.

You don’t hesitate, taking Mr Snake in your arms. You hug the plush toy to your chest, and San tucks you in, wrapping you in his sheets, draping the comforter over you.

“I’ll go get a bowl, some water and painkillers for you, alright?” he asks.

You’re too distracted to reply as Byeol jumps on the bed, meowing loudly, and she lies down on the pillow next to your head. You pet her mindlessly, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion washes over you.

San coming back into the room makes you open your eyes again, and you watch through your eyelashes as he puts a large cauldron down on the floor next to you. Another blink of your eyes and he’s back with a glass of water and painkillers, which he sets on the night table next to you.

“For tomorrow morning,” he indicates. “Or during the night.” You nod. “And the bowl is for if you get sick during the night,” he adds.

Another nod of yours is all he gets in answer, and he just stands there in silence for a time, before walking around his bed to grab the other pillow.

“I’m going to go sleep on the couch, but just call for me if you need anything, alright?”

“San…” you let out when he turns away.

“Yes?” He looks at you over his shoulder, a finger on the light switch, ready to turn it off and plunge the room in darkness.

“Stay.”

He gulps. “You’re drunk. It’s better if I don’t. But I’ll be here tomorrow morning, I promise.”

“Please stay,” you repeat, and then you’re crying.

San folds the second he sees your tears. “I’ll sleep on the floor then.”

“No.”

He says your name in a scolding tone, though it doesn’t hold any bite. “I won’t sleep in the same bed as you when you’re drunk.”

“Is it because you think I’m a slut?” you ask, Jungkook’s words somehow cutting through the haziness of your drunk mind.

“What?” San lets out, sounding offended. “No, not at all. Why would you think that?”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, and you hold Mr Snake tighter.

San sighs. “I don’t know what happened at the party with him, but please don’t listen to him.”

“It’s hard.” You sound tiny, vulnerable, and you wish you could just disappear.

San sits on his bed. “I know.” There’s a short moment of silence, and then San suggests, “I’ll stay with you while you fall asleep, okay?”

He moves until he’s sitting on the bed next to you, his back against the headboard. You turn to face him, a small thump indicating that Byeol jumped off the bed. And then you pat his thigh, almost comically, and San smiles down at you.

“Yes?”

“Lie down.”

“Y/n…”

“Please.”

He sighs, wetting his lips, but he still obeys, lying down next to you. The fact that he’s over the covers makes it a little hard for you to move closer, but you manage to put your hand on his stomach.

“Aren’t your underwear wet?” you ask out of nowhere.

“I changed when I got you the painkillers,” he answers. “Don’t worry about me.”

“M’kay,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering shut.

You’re out a few heartbeats later, the alcohol and your exhaustion winning over your will to stay awake with San.

And though you don’t know it, San stays with you a lot longer than he said he would, just looking at you.

Making sure that you’re okay, despite the knowledge that a good part of your heartbreak is his fault after all.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

now that everything is out, I promise it will get better. please reach out if you need to talk or have been a victim of anything similar <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2025. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[o-sachi]

Orter Madl Relationship Headcanons

ᯓ character; orter madl (mashle) ᯓ tags; fluff, sfw, gn reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Ngl, I had a hard time trying to make rs hcs for this guy because he's literally un-romanceable in reality SOB.

— I'm not sure how you managed to bag this guy. But... congrats. Like, truly, you deserve it. Up until dating you, this guy has never shown an ounce of interest in romance AT ALL. Perhaps you could say that his type is simply "you"?

— But maybe he gets into a relationship since it's transactional; he gets something from you and you get something from him. He has always been a rational person, so this is the only way he can rationalize something like "love" if he even believes in such a concept.

— Perhaps he'll give more of his time to you than any other person. Not that he expects you to feel special because of that. Though, somehow, the transactional relationship is able to blur some boundaries and help both of you ease into spending more time with each other.

— You don't know it, but he does look out for you, especially if he gets something from you that's really valuable. He'll always be on the look for anything that's bound to threaten your safety. There have also been instances when he butts into one of your fights.

— There isn't a day when he doesn't question you or your motives. Again, he tries to rationalize everything. So he can't make sense when you do things selflessly for him. What's the point if you don't get more in return? You confused him plenty and those thoughts plague his mind more than he'd like them to.

— One day, while spending time together, he'll be staring holes in the back of your head. What's he thinking? Well, let's just say he's having the biggest crisis of his life (having thoughts/feelings that cannot be rationalized). He'll be in a pissy mood for the rest of the day, but he takes it out on everyone else but you.

— The change of heart happens excruciatingly slow, but there will be signs. Perhaps you won't notice it at first, but certainly everyone else around the two of you can see it—clear as day.

— Eventually, he starts to see your values—not as a wizard—but as a person. Your strength, unwavering determination, and goal oriented mindset all seem quite alluring to him. It just never occurred to him before that these things could mean something else out of a fight.

— Through time, he'll just let himself be drawn to you. After all, there's nothing wrong about respecting someone who upholds justice and righteousness like he does. You're strong and can hold your ground. If anyone will take up space in his life—it might as well be you.

— His idea of softening up is showing you his tough love. He knows the types of things you get yourself into as a wielder of magic, so he reminds you to get stronger everyday even if it kills you. He'll practice with you and show no mercy. In his mind, he's thinking of wanting you to become self-sufficient to the point that you can handle yourself even without him by your side.

— He hates it when other people talk about you, even praises annoy him. But if he hears anyone insult you... they'll find themselves buried 6 ft. deep under sand. Without knowing it, he thinks so highly of you now—that if anyone were to utter the mere thought of you pisses him off. At this point, he lets you walk closely by his side so that everyone knows you are not to be messed with.

— You'll never hear him say the words, "I love you." But on a special occasion—like your birthday or your anniversary— he'll do something sweet for you (much to your surprise). You walk into his training grounds, a vast space with a bunch of sand. In the middle is a big heart made out of sand with him standing right beside it. Then he says something like, "Today's a special occasion hence the shape," or something unromantic like that lol.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[pinep-ne]

More of a drabble (deepest apologies) and a little Jovier doodle cause u deserve it (to make up for it) ^_^

AHH!!! First time drawing them...

Anywho. (Lifting the cloche) Your fic, @officialbugdrink...

Placed in Blackwater, pre-canon, where instead of acquaintances, Charles and Arthur's relationship is semi-established.

(i have this fic and more posted on ao3!)

----------

"Charles."

The voice behind him is out of breath. Charles had already known who it was before a word was uttered. Arthur tends to stumble about a lot, not necessarily stomping unless he's particularly angry, but there's an off-kilter sway to it, and it holds an odd little rhythm Charles can recognize yards away.

He turns behind him and sure enough, the man stands before him, clouds of soft white billowing from his nose and mouth, chin tilted down, unconsciously searching for the warmth of his fleece-lined collar. Looking a lot like he has no clue how he got there in the first place.

Charles turns to him fully. The lantern sitting at his feet— its amber light shifting, casting different in angles upon Arthur's unsure expression. He has his hands behind his back, very obviously putting a wall between Charles himself and the culprit of his own bashfulness.

Charles finds it so endearing in this moment he feels he's forgotten how to breathe. He sets his rifle against the tree he's been leaning on.

"Arthur," he says, like a soft sigh. "Why're you up so late?"

Arthur shifts again, turning his head to behind him, very inconspicuously, then back to Charles.

His voice stays hushed like the entire world is listening. "I know you ain't like a whole lotta attention, figured you was guarding tonight, woulda made it a little more... well..." Arthur trails off, averting his gaze again, shoulders dropping. Then, he starts up as he usually does, as if he's been shocked. Opens his mouth, and shuts it; another telling quirk of his.

"I made you somethin'," he settles on.

Before Charles can even process it, Arthur's slowly revealed the item in his hands, unable to hold back a smile. A small, whittled figure. Charles stares blankly at the thing, then back to Arthur, before he recognizes its shape.

It's... a horse. Not much bigger than his palm, carved and smoothened by deft yet obviously intermediate hands. Arthur's steps forward, offering for Charles to take it, like they're exchanging some divine, precious object.

Precious, certainly. "It's Taima," Arthur exclaims, a little less quiet than before.

"Arthur, I've never..."

"I know!" He huffs, "I just wanted to give you somethin' anyway. An' the gangs doing the whole gift thing come morning. Lord knows I'd get shit for the next week, if I'd shown you this then. Save us both the trouble."

Charles runs his thumb along the detail, still fixated on it, feeling like his heart's caught in his throat. It certainly looks like her, now. Stylized slightly, but the head especially, her character portrayed to an impressive extent. He's known about Arthur's sketches. Seeing it translated to a tangible, sentimental thing, and a craft born from love specifically, is a whole other experience he's found himself unprepared for.

It was the smallest detail he'd shared over a few beers; only the vast prairie and Arthur having the ears to hear it. A simple admission, that he's never really had the opportunity to celebrate anything close to Christmas. As a child, it simply wasn't a part of his culture. Now it's merely on account of his lack of community, of permanence, and by that matter, any relation to anyone.

Arthur, still, rambles on all matter-of-factly. As if the gesture isn't completely shattering Charles where he stands, unable to yet say anything. Soon though, he notices, and immediately begins to wind down. Takes it as distaste, maybe. He starts spewing out empty apologies, under the guise of reassurances, doused greatly in insecurity, as he usually does when he can't really make sense of a reaction.

Charles doesn't take the time to decipher it, only grabs Arthur by his collar before the man can tear away anymore pages, catching him in a fleeting kiss. Embodying the desperate need to express something back; so rushed that it's painful. He snakes a hand, occupied with the little figure, beneath Arthur's arm, covering the expanse of his back— embracing.

"Thank you," he manages, muffled somewhere in the fleece of Arthur's coat. The figure is warm in his hand, as are the arms wrapped around him, and the body that sways them both.

[weenwrites]

Decepticons/autobots of your choice reacting to gn reader that is 7'0 and is in the military and always cover their face up (like ghost from call of duty modern warfare) because of one mission that went wrong and they have scars on their face and body from the failed mission and they think the bots/cons of your choice will call them ugly but soon they got comfortable with them and showed them their face?

I just need some angst and fluff and the end and oh! Make gn reader cry when the bots/cons call them beautiful.

Dont forget to drink some water and eat something!

Have a good year :D

✎A/N: I am so sorry this took an eternity to get out.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

When he initially met you, your height certainly helped to make you stand out from all the other humans he's seen (which isn't many), however it wasn't enough. It's like seeing a large, blue marble in a pile of smaller blue marbles. Strange, but not surprising or interesting for long, and eventually it becomes just something that happens to be that way. Once the initial intrigue wore off, he thought that would be that, yet he was wrong.

Your abilities and skills proved to be rather impressive, and he surmised that were you not human, but rather a cybertronian among his ranks your skill would surpass even the skill of some of the more elite vehicons among their ranks. Despite your circumstances, you managed to overcome the unthinkable, and as such you rightfully earned his respect.

Megatron doesn't see scars as anything ugly or shameful, he sees them as medals of valor—as signs that you survived something that tried to take your life, and he believes that's something to be proud of. His love for you goes deeper than superficial appearances, after all you have earned his respect and admiration with more than just your looks. So of course he wouldn't think any less of you, scars or no scars.

Arcee

She initially never thought much of how you always hid your face. If anything, she just assumed it was part of your uniform and since you were busy with work a majority of the time she figured that's the reason you kept it on so often. Granted, she's heard the kids talk about it and theorize why you wear it so much that it's gotten her the slightest bit interested (and amused at their theories).

Scars can be ugly things, she understands that well. And not just ugly in the sense that they can be disturbing to look at but rather in reference to the deeper, more complicated feelings surrounding them as well as how they got there in the first place. It'll forever mar your body, and depending on what caused it, that scar could haunt you both physically and mentally. She can understand your feelings surrounding your own scars, believe her, she has many of her own that she has complicated feelings around.

But though you're covered head to toe in scars, she'd truthfully tell you that they do not change the way she feels about you in the slightest. She doesn't find them repulsive or disgusting since she can sympathize with the pain surrounding your scars.

Bulkhead

Given the fact the two of you happen to share similar experiences, it wasn't difficult for a sense of camaraderie and friendship to grow rather fast (though it could've happened the same way regardless of whether he knew about your background or not). Whether you were fond of sharing accounts of your previous battles or not, Bulkhead was certainly one to tell a tale of his own experiences.

The way he recounted the tale with descriptive, and riveting words made it easy to forget the fact he was telling a tale about a bloody war he experienced first-hand. But as time grew on, these tales slowly transitioned from stories about the war to stories about his life before it happened. His experiences in construction, silly happenstances that he looks back upon fondly, and old friends that are likely long gone.

It's ironic, you'd think he'd be happier to speak about times before the war and yet it's only harder for him. It's clear in the way he seems to begin to trail off, and loose his train of thought as he reminisces over what he had, and how things used to be.

His view of his scars starkly contrasts your own. He views scars as something to boast—something to be proud of—something that shows that he leapt into something ugly and beat, shot, punched, and smashed his way out of it to walk away to tell the tale. The way he sees it, those scars are a sign that you survived to be here with him today, and he wouldn't have you any differently.

Perhaps as the two of you bond, his own way of thinking about his scars begins to rub off on you too, and you start to see these scars in a different light. With each compliment he gives you in passing from day to day, the sadness or shame once associated with them grows smaller in comparison to the swelling newfound sense of pride.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

This is like. Probably old news. But not to me. So.

Anyway, I noticed a difference in the ages the Eng Dr. STONE fandom seemed to think Xeno and Stan met and the way Japanese artists on Pixiv did. And like, that makes sense, "childhood friend" is extremely vague and has no specific age range indicated, especially as people who are in their mid-to-late 20s generally might think of their teenagehood as children at that point. Xeno's character profile kind of indicates it was before the age of 10 or 11, but. Maybe not! Maybe that's when they met.

My Japanese-English dictionary wasn't super helpful on this point. It gives me the breakdown of the kanji, which just led me to "childhood" and "aware/know". But a dual language dictionary spends a lot more effort on translation than defining, which is fine. Even Midori, which is pretty solid on things like this, all things considered.

So, fuck it, I decided. I'm going to find an online 辞書 and figure out how this fucking word is defined in Japanese.

(I used 幼馴染 for this, because it was what the anime used, and frankly I am not in the financial position to spring for the Japanese manga for reference purposes at this time. I know it's like 4 bucks. Still. Besides, it's almost certainly the word the manga used, too)

The 辞書 gave me "someone you know from childhood" but also "a familiar face since you were aware/conscious."

Okay, I think. So definitely younger than 10. More like. Toddlers. If not younger.

But Google offered me one other thing: the Japanese Wikipedia page for this word.

Wikipedia??? I thought excitedly. That will definitely give me more information on how this word is used than even the dictionary. I didn't realize this random word would have a Wikipedia page!

So I clicked and started choking almost immediately because what it informed me in like the first paragraph is that, while the word doesn't explicitly mean this, people often take it to mean a friend of the opposite sex who was your childhood/first/puppy love.

Ooooookay.

It then provided me a bullet-pointed list of the most common ways the trope is seen in media:

A next door neighbor/neighborhood person whose family was friends with your family (RE: Stan and Xeno: who knows, maybe?)

Someone who walks to and from school with you because you live near each other or are in the same class (RE: Stan and Xeno: who knows, maybe?)

Friends who banter and poke fun at each other (RE: Stan and Xeno: yes. Absolutely yes)

Two people who share old memories and secrets and mutually tease each other and spend a lot of time going down memory lane (RE: Stan and Xeno: yes, especially judging by Stan and Xeno both thinking back to their childhood together before they get petrified again)

Someone you don't think of a romantic partner and then after some event, you realize you have romo feels for them (ala the girl/boy next door trope, although applying that character archetype to either of them is patently absurd) (RE: Stan and Xeno: started choking again)

Cousins or people who live together (RE: Stan and Xeno: well, they're definitely not cousins)

So yeah I was just looking for how old they probably were and ended up down a rabbit hole of "btw this is kiiiiiiinda a romantic trope".

I've also found another page that indicated it's probably from around 3-6 years old as you start making the normal amount of friends once you hit elementary school and it's less notable, but once you're adults, being friends with someone from elementary is just as odd. And it's hilarious to me that some Japanese person was as confused about this question as I was as to do a survey about it.

[the-indigo-symphony]

Since mottos and slogans have been a hot topic in the plural community lately... I want to introduce one that I've been thinking of for a long while now! It's part rallying cry, part "defiance via continued existence", and part punk in the "spikes as a deterrent" way (if that last comparison makes sense at all, lol – I'm specifically thinking of things like how wheelchair users may put spikes on the handles of their 'chair so others don't try to touch or move them without permission). It's this:

"Plural as in there are more of us than you think."

[PT: "Plural as in there are more of us than you think." / end PT]

I've also considered a longer version that would tie in the queer community/queerness – which I know is intertwined with plurality for many people – and that version would be: "Queer as in here without fear, plural as in there are more of us than you think". What do you all think?

I think it's very to-the-point, and plays on a simple premise: that we're not backing down – not in the face of hate, and not in the face of fear. Especially with the longer version; we're here, we're queer, get over it – and if you refuse to, just know that you can't silence us all, no matter how loudly you try to drown us out. We will always be here. There will always be someone to fight against the hate, to spit in the face of bigotry just by continuing to draw breath. It also has a nod to an older queer sentiment that I think we should bring back for both queer and plural folk alike – that we are everywhere. The cashier that scanned your groceries might be plural. The classmate sitting next to you might be plural. The neighbor across the street might be plural. We are here. There are more of us than you think. And we will not be afraid.

"There are more of us than you think" is also a nod to how statistics are often both misunderstood and just plain lacking in data. People really don't seem to realize just how population statistics translate to real life; how many people they pass by or have brief interactions with fit that "extremely rare" condition they dismissed, because something like "1.5%" doesn't look like a lot on paper, but ends up as a whole lot when you wander out into the world. That's at least one out of a hundred – and that estimate is on the more conservative side about one specific presentation of plurality, and doesn't account for many, many other forms of it. So, yeah, there are definitely more of us than they/you think.

I admit it can be read as a tad aggressive, but that's also part of the point. It's meant to be a very in-your-face type of motto, especially as a spit in the face of pluralphobia and all other forms of bigotry it entangles itself with – racism, sanism, disableism, ableism, religious intolerance, queerphobia, etc.. Yeah, your cashier, classmate, neighbor might be plural – and so what?! Yeah, maybe you should think twice about messing with us, because acceptance is growing and you're not going to be able to excuse your hateful nonsense for much longer without it being called out as such! But on the other hand, I think it can work well as a conversation starter, giving people the prompt to ask, "What does that mean?" In this case, the slogan being so provocative works in its favor! Yeah, actually, I'd love to talk about how plurals go unknown and deserve more awareness, how there are almost certainly more of us than even we can know for certain! And, again, spikes on a wheelchair – taking words as an art form, this slogan is art that's meant to make you uncomfortable, to make you question things; "Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.", as Cesar A. Cruz said. It makes you scared or uncomfortable to think about there being more plurals out there than you first estimated there to be? Why does it make you feel that? Is this the result of unconscious bias? Why do you think we, the makers of this slogan, might be comforted by the same phrase that disturbs you?

We're plural as in more-than-one in more than one (lol) meaning of the phrase. More-than-one in this body, more-than-one of us out there fighting the good fight – helping others, breaking down walls, and pushing for a kinder and more accepting future.

Plural as in there are more of us than you think. Fuck your hatred, we're gonna be here no matter what.

[hervygervy]

hello! I saw your pyrrhon localisation comparison post and I'm deeply intrigued by the characterisation and saw that you'd potentially be doing more. if you don't mind, could you do one on dark pit?

specifically on how he views freedom/flight, if possible. I've looked through some translations and I feel like though both concepts fall under the same umbrella, his character places more emphasis on 'independence' in english and 'flight' in japanese. maybe this gives slightly more edge to the questionable decision to make him join the forces of nature...though it is just my two cents. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

if requests like this are unwelcome then please feel free to delete this ask! sorry for the long ask and thank you for your insights!

No need to apologize! If anything, I should apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. I got terribly busy at such an unfortunate time...

A few others actually asked me to address Dark Pit in some capacity, but since you're requesting the full shebang, I figured I'd simply respond to you. I hope the others in my inbox can forgive me.

Anyway, yes, you are correct! The Japanese version places more emphasis on freedom while the English version seems to frame everything more around servitude. His English characterization is also a lot more smug and snarky compared to the Japanese. But since we're here, I might as well pick out all the notable line differences I can find. As has become the trend, there's more yapping below. Tumblr keeps moving around the cutoff so let's hope that when this gets posted, it isn't in some funky spot...

A few things before we start comparing voice files:

Dark Pit is actually called "Black Pit" in the Japanese version. Personally, I think this name is a lot better at representing the kind of character he is because "dark" kinda implies "evil" when that isn't necessarily the case. He plays the role of antagonist, sure, but he's not exactly a villain. It certainly doesn't help that he gets lumped in with the rest of the villains by outside sources (lookin' at you, Splatfest). "Black Pit" just does a better job at getting the whole "mirror image" idea across, since at the end of the day, that's the point of his character. Black's the opposite of white, after all. Of course, the name had to be changed out of necessity. It's got racial connotations in English. Anyone in their right mind would raise an eyebrow. Similar thing had to be done for Metal Face from Xenoblade Chronicles, who's called "Black Face" in Japan. Yeah, that definitely ain't gonna fly over here.

As a result, he's got a different nickname: ブラピ (Burapi, which I'll render as "Blapi" in translations). This is just an abbreviation of his full name, ブラックピット (Burakku Pitto), and it follows the typical Japanese abbreviation conventions. "Blapi" is certainly cute, as Palutena herself says, but "Pittoo" is kinda perfect.

Also, just like how Pit and Dark Pit are both voiced by the same voice actor in English (Antony Del Rio), the two share the same voice actress in Japanese (Minami Takayama). Like the English version, he has a slightly deeper voice. But in the Japanese I think there are a lot more apparent differences in how they talk.

For one, Dark Pit generally talks in a much more masculine fashion. I guess I should explain: Japanese is not gendered in the romance language sense (as in gendered adjectives and nouns as a grammatical function), but more like the way a person talks, like how they refer to themselves, their word choice, or how they end their sentences can evoke a certain vibe, if that makes sense. There are a bunch of different first and second-person pronouns in Japanese and all of them will give off a particular impression of who you are and have varying degrees of appropriateness depending on the social context. Dark Pit refers to himself as オレ (ore) which is very masculine and super casual. In the real world, it would only be used around close friends. He refers to everyone else as おまえ (omae) which is pretty much just as masculine and just as casual as オレ. Second-person pronouns are rarely used in real-world Japanese as is, but outside of super casual contexts, it can sound really derogatory since in essence it literally means something like "that which stands before me." To top it off, Dark Pit sometimes ends his sentences with really masculine particles like ぞ (zo) or ぜ (ze). Basically, he sounds gruff and tough and all that.

Pit's speech on the other hand is a lot less blatantly masculine. It's certainly masculine, but a lot less harsh and more on the boyish side. He refers to himself as ボク (boku) which is the typical little boy's pronoun you could say. It actually comes from an old Japanese word for "servant." Japanese society conditions boys to lean on 僕 (another way to write "boku") and girls to use 私 (watashi, which is gender-neutral and also the "default" pronoun). Unlike オレ, ボク can actually be applicable for more formal situations, but from what I understand, 私 will always be more preferable since 僕 does come across quite as boyish. Anyway, Pit does actually occasionally use おまえ and ends sentences with ぞ and ぜ but only when he's actively trying to be intimidating. I've also caught a couple instances of him using キミ (kimi), which is historically associated with 僕 anyway (kimi is to boku as anata is to watashi), and said instances have been for Dark Pit which is pretty interesting. キミ is supposed to have a pretty friendly and affectionate vibe from what I understand, but it apparently can also sound condescending and snobbish. Hmm. Otherwise he uses the other person's name in place of a second-person pronoun or ends sentences with the neutral よ (yo) and ね (ne). Palutena also uses those two.

Alright, enough about that. I think the emphasis on freedom as opposed to servitude specifically is apparent the moment he's introduced. The cutscene before the boss fight continues pretty much plays out the same way between versions so I'll skip right to the second phase. As always, English first:

Boss this... serving that... Palutena's lines also double down on the more servitude-centric approach the English version takes. You'll hear she doesn't make this kind of comment in the Japanese version:

Okay! This one's easy:

Pandora: Hey! Your opponent is that angel over there!

Dark Pit: That has nothing to do with me. I'll only do what I like!

Pit: It's kind of like watching myself... it's disturbing...

Palutena: But it looks like he's quick to fight, huh? Well, while you're at it, how about you try to defeat Pandora together?

Now that I'm comparing the two, the English version really seems to be trying to hit you over the head with the servitude theme, huh? But you see what I mean, there's a clear difference in framing here. The whole "I'll only do what I like" is a reoccurring theme for his character throughout the game, I'd say.

If you spend a little bit more time with the boss, Pandora will make a comment about how the "Mirror of Truth reflects the truth," but they go about the same way between both versions.

Oh, and you can also see some differences in their characterization once you take Pandora down:

"Hmph. Finally kicked the bucket, huh?"

Like I said... a whole lot more smug in the English version.

Since we're here, I like how the cutscene afterwards plays out:

"You look too much like me and it's disturbing!"

"That's my line..."

English Pit is way too nonchalant about the situation, lol. I think we gotta acknowledge how genuinely unnerving it would be to have another you walkin' around.

Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. The rest of the cutscene pretty much plays out the same... the only other thing is that English Palutena expresses a worry that Dark Pit could be allied with Medusa whereas Japanese Palutena just says he ought to be pursued immediately.

Moving onto chapter 6, the level in which we subdue Dark Pit. Yippee.

We're thrown right into an aerial duel and the conversation pretty much goes the same way between versions (obviously there's a lot more snark from Dark Pit in English)... except for this line when his identity as a clone is brought up:

"How can you say I'm a copy? Right now, I'm living!"

"How about that? I'm living!!"

Mm yes, impeccable logic right there.

I think this idea might be related to a later discussion brought up by Palutena about the nature of his existence. In English she says "his very existence is unnatural" and in Japanese she says something like "he should have never existed in the first place."

So, by that logic, since clones are unnatural and shouldn't exist, the fact that he's alive and existing like nothing's wrong means that he isn't unnatural and thus not a clone. He just doesn't want to face the truth... that doesn't happen till the boss fight anyway.

But before that, Medusa tries to appeal to him, only for him to brush her off:

In English he just reinstates that nobody can boss him around.

Here he's saying something along the lines of "those who brandish another's sword have no wings to alight." "Alight" as in to descend or swoop down. Never knew it could be a verb. There's definitely a servitude sort of context in both lines, but the Japanese version incorporates a little bit more of that freedom aspect with the whole alighting wings thing.

Okay, now we can talk about the boss fight!

Methinks the puppet doth protest too much... teehee.

Strong emphasis on servitude as we already talked about. Now the Japanese:

Translation time:

Dark Pit: Come at me! You piece of goddess shit!

Pit: What did you say?!

Dark Pit: You're always the goddess's yes-man and fighting for her without holding any doubts. Aren't you dissatisfied with that kind of life? Hm?

Pit: Not in the least! I'm sure of it!

Dark Pit: They say that the "Magic Mirror of Truth" shows the truth. In that case, my existence itself embodies your true feelings, does it not?

Pit: You don't understand. You would never understand! I respect Lady Palutena's affection and want to be of some help to her! That showing of the truth, it's a lie! It's nothing more than a suggestion that comes from its name! I won't be tricked that easily!

Dark Pit: They say people get worked up when you hit the mark.

Pit: Still with that logic!

Dark Pit: Whatever. Do as you like. As for me, there's no way I'll serve someone. With these wings, I'll live freely!

Pit: I envy you, but then I don't!

A couple translation notes:

The Mirror of Truth just has a slightly different name in Japanese. It's called the 真実の魔鏡 (shinjitsu no makyou) and although 魔鏡 isn't a real word, it's just combining the characters for "witchcraft" and "mirror" so it's easy to just render it as "magic mirror."

Dark Pit calls Pit 女神のフンめ (megami no fun me), and as we discussed in a previous post, tacking め (me) onto something makes it derogatory. And フン (fun) is another way of reading the kanji for 糞 (kuso) which means like "feces" or "excrement." So combined with め... you get the idea. I can't elude swears here either...

When Pit is talking about "Palutena's affection," he uses the word 慈愛 (jiai) which I honestly had no idea how to translate without it sounding really weird. My JP to ENG dictionary just equated it to "affection" or "fondness" but I wasn't satisfied, so I looked into a Japanese dictionary, and it defined it as "the kind of affection a parent has for their child." ..."affection" it is then.

This exchange is probably the only time Japanese Dark Pit blatantly brings up servitude. Even then, there's still a lot more emphasis on "doing what you like" compared to the English, which is very hyper-focused on servitude. What I'm trying to say is, the Japanese version is like "you're doing what someone else wants rather than what you want" and the English version is more like "you're someone else's servant when you don't have to be." Not the most eloquent way of putting it, but that's the vibe.

The English conversation in general I think leaves out a lot of information for the sake of sticking to the whole servitude thing. Pit says he "follows Palutena because she always guides him the right way" when obviously their relationship is a lot more than one of mere mutual benefit. The Japanese version kinda fills in these gaps by elaborating that Pit's devotion comes from his respect for Palutena's fondness for humans and life. So that allows Dark Pit to question why he would want to adhere to someone else's wishes rather than his own.

There's also that last line in the Japanese version: it is indeed true that to some extent, Pit envies his clone. Palutena surmised that Dark Pit is a manifestation of Pit's "dark side" (she says pretty much the same thing in the Japanese version, if you're wondering) and I don't think that's entirely untrue. Japanese Dark Pit even states that he's the embodiment of Pit's "true feelings." Pit harbors some deep-seated desire to be on his own, and I think this is reemphasized in chapter 10, where he says his wish would be to "fly by himself" (or "to be able to freely fly through the sky" as he says in Japanese). He gets all worked up for a reason. And we must remember, Dark Pit is Pit's mirror image. So as his opposite, he embodies those hidden feelings, and of course Dark Pit holds some suppressed desires of his own... I'll get back to that.

Before I move onto his appearance in chapter 9, I just want to point out that in the Japanese version, Palutena actually acknowledges Pit's defense of her and thanks him, it's really sweet. In English she pretty much just says that they gotta move on, lol.

The next time we meet Dark Pit is in chapter 9. He must have snuck behind us while we were entering that gate to the Underworld... he suddenly shows up to take out a horde of enemies. When asked why he's there, he responds with his typical snark in the English version:

Are you now...

And in response to Palutena asking if he was interested in helping Pit out:

Standard response. And now the Japanese equivalents:

"I told you, didn't I? I live freely."

"I just so happened to want to beat the crap out of these guys."

He's using 無性に (mushouni) here which is like "excessively" or "like crazy" so I did a bit of creative interpreting...

And then in the Japanese version, Palutena asks if he was called by Pit's "fighting spirit":

"That has absolutely nothing to do with me! Nothing! Don't say disturbing things!"

Seems like we really hit the mark, eh? I'd share the voice files because the delivery here is fun, but I'm limited to only so many... and I wanted to include the English files just because his characterization is so different.

Then he dips but he comes right on back to take out the miniboss right before the ground portion of the level. Did you know the scene plays out totally differently between versions? Here's the English:

All smug and tough. Heh. Now in the Japanese... not so much:

You can hear it at least, right? I'll translate:

Dark Pit: Ugh...! I-I overdid it...

Palutena: It doesn't look like any bones were broken!

Dark Pit: Don't dawdle! Go quickly, before more troops arrive!

Palutena: It's just as Blapi says. Let's take him at his word.

Pit: Thanks a lot, Blapi!

Dark Pit: Seriously, what's with this "Blapi?"

Palutena: We're breaking in!

Not so tough anymore, huh? Something like this REALLY shows the differences in characterization, doesn't it? This kind of scene really emphasizes Dark Pit's tough, lone wolf type character... or it alludes to the possibility that he can't reach his full potential living freely...

The next time we encounter Dark Pit was always weird to me, he kinda just shows up as a miniboss in chapter 13... Arlon summons him there somehow. How did they get into contact? Who knows.

Anyway there's honestly not much of interest in that scene. The whole conversation plays out pretty much the same. It's just another case of a smug line in English versus something not smug.

So let's look at a more interesting line instead! Dark Pit suddenly shows up again with the Lightning Chariot to bust open the entrance to the Chaos Vortex. And when asked about this course of action...

But in Japanese it's interesting:

"This is not the time to talk about it! Lady Palutena's in a pinch, right?"

So, here he actually addresses Palutena as さま (sama) which is a really respectful honorific. It's like "exalted" or "esteemed." Basically, he actually calls her "lady," which he NEVER does in the English version.

Those are his suppressed feelings. He secretly has some respect for her. Why else would he suddenly show up to help Pit out?

"But Hervy!" You might say. "He was unconscious while Pit was a ring after the war against the Aurum! He's helping Pit for the sake of self-preservation!"

Oh true... he does say this. Here he is in the following level:

I mean, Pit quite literally says it. That's why he has to help him save Palutena!! Now then... what if I told you that this was entirely exclusive to the English version? The conversation goes VERY differently in Japanese:

Lemme write it out clearly for ya!

Dark Pit: Still at it, huh?

Pit: Blapi!

Dark Pit: Seriously, don't call me "Blapi!" I'm gonna kick these guys around. Stay quiet and watch.

Pit: Your meddling is unnecessary! I got this!

Both: Rahhh!!

It's rather plain, huh? But no, your ears did not deceive you... er, your eyes did not deceive you. I'm reading too, don't worry. How else can I look up words? Lol. The whole self-preservation thing is something entirely reserved for the English version. In the Japanese version, I suppose he's just doing as he likes? And that's beating up baddies, I guess. That tracks.

He has a few other speaking lines as the level goes on, but it's once again a matter of in English he says something smug and in Japanese he says something rather mundane by comparison. Similar situation for his lines in the little skirmishes in chapter 6 too, by the way. In the boss fight itself, there's this one line in English that always stood out to me:

Like, why would he say this? Lol. Girlypop, you're literally using the dead remains of a goddess in order to fly around. Who are you to say where the line is drawn? I dunno, it just seems... random for him to say. He was never one to harp on about morals up until now.

The Japanese line is less odd to me:

He says something along the lines of "I don't think any other soul would last this long being consumed," obviously referring to Palutena's.

There isn't much to note for the rest of the fight... in the segment afterwards, when Dark Pit is attacked by the remains of the Chaos Kin, he cries out "help me" in English but calls out Pit's name in the Japanese version. Just figured I'd mention it since I personally found it interesting.

Alright! Final stretch! Despite the fact that chapter 22 has you playing as Dark Pit the whole way through... there honestly isn't much to note, but I'll list a few minor things:

Unrelated to Dark Pit himself, but the English version consistently implies that Pit is dying or on the verge of death, and it's reemphasized by Viridi's lines where she talks about "cheating death." The Japanese version just says he's in a "comatose state" and never really seems to imply he'll die or anything. In fact, Palutena expresses a worry that her plan to restore him might end up "eradicating" him (the Japanese game tries to avoid using "kill" as much as possible, probably due to ratings reasons). Following the English script, you would think Dark Pit would be a little bit more eager to help out if Pit was indeed nearly dead, lol.

Palutena also doesn't bring up the fact that she too owes Pit in the Japanese dialogue. Hmm. Either way, she persuades Dark Pit to assist by reminding him of his debt to Pit.

Of course, Dark Pit is, you guessed it, just more snarky in the English version. Heck, both Palutena and Viridi comment on his attitude in later points of the level, which doesn't happen in the Japanese version. Back on topic, there are these lines:

Back to talkin' servitude! The Japanese version naturally reflects more of the freedom lens:

"For your information, I don't need the miracle of flight."

"The sky is mine!"

Pretty much in line with everything we've discussed prior. Different emphases and all that. Oh, and "miracle of flight" is just the Japanese equivalent for the power of flight. Any instance of "miracle" is either omitted or replaced with "power" in the English version

There's also the part where Hades' grand scheme is unraveled, right after the miniboss. Just like in the Chaos Kin boss fight, English Dark Pit decides to be moral about the whole mass molding of souls into Underworld soldiers thing:

In English, as you can see, Viridi's wigging out over Hades' irresponsible use of souls. In Japanese Viridi instead makes a comment on how Hades' strategy isn't terribly efficient, as they just discussed how it takes a whole lotta souls to make an entire monster. Since that's how the conversation progresses, Dark Pit instead remarks that the ability to fight back is possible:

Something along the lines of "in other words, we can brute force it!"

I just want to know what the idea is behind the occasional moral grandstanding is in the English version. I honestly never really noticed it until now. Maybe it's just to express the fact that he's a neutral party...?

The last scene we'll take a look at for today is this one exchange during the first phase of the boss, since really there's nothing else left of note and I've been dragging this out for quite a while. It's the last example of the contrast between emphases I can find. Here's the English:

And then the Japanese:

It goes something like this:

Palutena: Blapi's ability to fly freely was thanks to Pandora's leftover magic powers.

Viridi: Essentially, you could say Padora's remains were residing in his wings. And by the power of the Rewind Spring, she was able to revive herself.

Pandora: The nerve of doing whatever you wanted!

Dark Pit: Well, it was rather convenient. I'll defeat you again and use you in the same way. Be grateful.

Pandora: You little shit!

The return of フン... anyway, Pandora uses the phrase 好き勝手 or "doing as one likes/wants/pleases," which is the kind of vibe the Japanese version has always been going for. That's the reoccurring theme.

There ya have it. To be honest, the best way to really highlight the differences in characterization is to look at the pre-boss battle rallying cry.

"Servant to no other but myself" versus "wings of freedom." Can't get more succinct than that.

You brought up his joining of the Forces of Nature... this is something that is revealed in Dark Pit's Palutena's Guidance conversation in the Palutena's Temple stage in Smash Bros for Wii U and Ultimate. I didn't know this until recently but apparently it's pretty divisive among fans. It's definitely a little odd but personally I don't think it's too farfetched?

Think about it: Dark Pit answered to Arlon's request at one point. He uses the Lightning Chariot, which is always retrieved by Phosphora, who follows Viridi. And at the end of chapter 22, the one that collects him is Viridi. He keeps getting wrapped in their business one way or another.

He can't "live freely" or "do as he likes" without Pandora anymore either. So realistically, what else can he do if he wants to continue on fighting and trouncing baddies? Viridi can supply his flight and thus enable his scrappy lifestyle.

The conversation in Smash pretty much goes the same way in both languages. Viridi reveals that Dark Pit became an officer of her forces and that she isn't beyond opposing Palutena again. Dark Pit meanwhile says that their alliance came as a result of mutual shared interests. What these interests are, we never learn.

I wonder if people's gripes with this information come from that strong emphasis on servitude in the English version--he'd never be anyone's subordinate! But if we consider it from the Japanese side of things, he doesn't really have that kind of dignity to lose. He's already lost the one thing he defined himself by--his wings of freedom. So based on this, and events from Uprising itself, I think it's reasonable enough that he would hang around Viridi. I'd imagine he's more of a free spirit like Phosphora, anyway.

Besides. This is all only in Smash. Are there really enough grounds to say it's canon? I don't think so. Personally I wouldn't think too deeply about this unless it happens in an actual Kid Icarus game. And we all know a sequel will never happen. Not outside our dreams, anyway. Until then, if you still have your gripes, I'd say feel free to disregard it!

Well, thanks for your patience and thanks for reading if you made it this far! I know I took a bit of a hiatus but I don't plan on quitting these kinds of posts. There are still more things that can be talked about, I think. Feel free to send me requests if there's something specific you want me to take a look at! :)

But please keep in mind that I'm also juggling my part-time job and my final semester of university... bear with me if it takes just as long for me to respond!

[ninjakk]

Hey!!

I recently saw someone claim that Wei Wuxian was starved of conversation on his journey to Yiling with Lan Wangji and Wen Ning and so board he needed to chat to people before they ascend the mountain. I hadn't really noticed this until it was mentioned. What do you think of that scene?

I love your meta and fics btw. You use your understanding of the novel in your writing and it's just *chef's kiss*

Hi anon 👋🏻

Personally, I've not seen any comments regarding the above - but we can certainly look at the text in question 😊

Let's take a look at the scene in question:

Several days later, they arrived in Yiling.

The Burial Mounds were less than five kilometers ahead of this small town. Although they didn’t know exactly what awaited them there, Wei Wuxian had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. But Lan Wangji was right by his side, his gait steady, his gaze cool. Wei Wuxian had never been one with any sense of crisis to begin with, and with the way Lan Wangji looked, he was even less likely to get nervous at all.

Passing through the small town of Yiling, he was awash in the sounds of the local accent. It was invigorating and incomparably endearing. While he wasn’t planning on buying anything, he couldn’t help but strike up conversations in the local dialect with the street vendors. Only after he’d had his fill of socializing did he get down to business.

“Hanguang-jun, you remember this town, right?”

7S translation

So the scene opens with WWX gushing over how safe and happy he feels around LWJ. He's just so thankful to have someone by his side, someone he can fully depend on and is there for him, should he need it. This very much echoes his thoughts from when they began their descent from the Cloud Recesses, at the start of their journey here. For someone nearing the place he met such a gruesome end at previously, he seems incredibly content and calm - all thanks to LWJ. So straight away, we are reminded of how WWX feels around the other man. It's there for a reason, to set the scene. WWX is relaxed and enjoying himself because he's with LWJ.

They have just arrived in a city he is very familiar with. It's the place he both lived as an orphan and frequented as a man while residing at the burial mounds. He is surrounded by the accent of his "home" for the first time in over 13 years and it's making him feel sentimental. I also think it's a great parallel between when WWX finally visits Lotus Pier in the coming chapters and how desolate and subdued the place has become since JC became sect leader.

I think the above reaction is very normal considering the emotional impact it obviously had on him. WWX has already stated on numerous occasions that LWJ makes him happy and he enjoys his company, but he's also very sociable and likes to look around markets and chat with vendors - there's even a scene in the novel which states as such and many other examples. Although WWX is running around chatting and exploring the stalls, LWJ is still by his side. Doing so does not subtract from his obvious enjoyment of having LWJ's unwavering presence.

We see more than enough evidence that WWX happily chats to LWJ and that he, in turn, even responds and asks questions also. There seems to be this mind-boggling misconception that LWJ literally doesn't speak, and if he does he's like some caveman that can't communicate effectively, when it's the exact opposite. LWJ talks when necessary and is very succinct with his words - he's a true gentleman of their time. Of course, in comparison to WWX, he's much less chatty - but when he does talk it's sincere and relevant. WWX loves this about him! He's also an incredible listener and doesn't miss a single thing WWX says, which WWX also appreciates! Hardly anyone listens to all his ramblings and holds them all so dearly!

It's funny, because although WWX chats to anyone and everyone, it's obvious he enjoys conversing with LWJ the most. He treasures the fact they are on the same wavelength and understand each other implicitly 🥰

Aww! Thank you so much anon! I'm glad you are enjoying my meta and fics ❤️

I hope I managed to answer your question! Have a lovely day 😘

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/05

@garnetduodecim asked: I always assumed jack spent the first 4 hours in the troll session, before destroying prospit, destroying Aradiabots, there were A LOT of them.

Maybe one of the Aradiabots got in a lucky shot, and was able to tag him with a weaker, non-God Tier variant of her freeze ability. That'd certainly at least delay him.

@morganwick asked: So, you were talking about Aradia "injuring" Vriska (post/704357246751113217) and comparing Vriska to a fairy godmother character (post/722100305374986240)?

@manorinthewoods asked: Serendipity Gospels is by Tamsyn Muir??? Really? Um, that's… hoo. That was one of the fanfics that I didn't end up liking. Might need to revisit that. Side note: 'Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents' feels more like something Locked Tomb-esque to me. So that's really… ah. ~LOSS (3/5/24)

I do wonder how similar the Gospels are to TLT's writing style.

Actually, can anyone confirm at what point the fic will be safe to read? I could just wait until I'm reading panels from after its publication date, but if I can check it out before, I will.

@abysswarlock asked: Ooh I’ve had this hypothesis for a while now but you just said something that made me lock in my guess that your classpect is Prince of Doom

The classpect wheel continues to turn!

I'm married to Doom for at least one of my 'sonas, but my Class is still up in the air, since we know even less about them than aspects.

@manorinthewoods asked: As a sort of Part 2 to that sylladex comment - how do you think the Sylladex works? Do you think that Homestuck will go into more detail about Sylladices, or do you think they'll fade into the background as different aspects of the magic system come to the fore? ~LOSS (24/4/24)

I think the latter is a lot more likely. Most aspects (lol) of Homestuck's magic system are there to serve the story first and foremost. As much as I'd love the comic to turn into a treatise on Sburb deeplore, it really doesn't feel like something Hussie would be interested in doing.

The story won't really suffer without, say, a detailed explanation of every facet of alchemy - I just really like speculating, because I'm all about shit like that.

@heliotropopause asked: What are your thoughts on Homestuck's translation convention(s)? As an example, take page 2251, line "Arrivederci, Megido.": Is she writing in something close enough to Earth English to scan as such to the reader, no translation necessary? Is Vriska saying a word in Troll Italian, which gets translated to Earth Italian? Is she expressing a sentiment in her usual language that's best translated as the word "arrivederci" as it's used in English? Has Doc Scratch secretly been translating all cross-species communication we've seen so far?

Vriska's arrivederci seems diegetic to me. If we inherited English from Alternia, it makes sense that some of our other languages might come from there too.

tl;dr: Troll Italy is real 🇮🇹

Anonymous asked: im not one to dip my toes into The Vriscourse but this one piece of analysis i really liked is that vriska is jealous of tavros, that hes had a much easier life compared to her and that hes allowed to be more of a wimp while she has to be the toughest fuck alive or else shell die

It's only one piece of the Vriska-Tavros puzzle, but it's an important one. She'll refuse to acknowledge it to the end, though, because the idea of being jealous of Tavros is disgusting to her.

@obscureaeguran asked: Are there any current theories of yours that you want to be wrong about?

Confident as I am in my Vriska death theory, I don't actually want to be right.

I really like Vriska's character, and I want to see her grow past the worldview that's preventing her from finding peace. I just don't think that's likely, given her current trajectory.

Anonymous asked: 'In what universe are 13-year-olds the people most qualified to make universes?' well per the beta version of homestuck (when hussie wanted to make the whole thing in flash before deciding against it) they were all going to be 10 instead, i think this is the much better option!

How young can we go, anyway?

AU where the Homestuck Babies aren't sent to Earth at all, and just start playing immediately.

@manorinthewoods asked: Have you played Deltarune? ~LOSS (9/4/24)

I have! I was actually replaying it on day one of the liveblog - hence the several references I made to it at the time. That feels forever ago, now.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Jade changed pretty drastically as a person after her dreamself died, if you think about it— demanding Feferi stop using her quirk in chat, standing up to the trolls for the first time, getting angry, to such an extent that Karkat was so surprised that it turned his opinion of her around completely in a single conversation. Even forcing a password system to keep talks linear instead of using cloud visions to do everything out of order. This doesn’t just feel to me like dream Jade being a “different individual”, it also feels like a metaphorical confrontation between her NEW self and her OLD self…

I think it's both.

Jade's been through a lot in the last couple of hours, and she really isn't the same girl who died on Prospit.

Being an oracle of Skaia's visions led to disaster. They showed her that John's Dream Self would awaken, leading her to believe she was finally going to meet him, but neglected to mention that she'd die the moment he opened his eyes - or that Prospit would die alongside her.

As a result, the new Jade seems to have made a decision to completely reject all prophetic information. She'll supply the minimum possible intel to her past self, and no more.

It's clear her Dream Self's death was a catalyst for a pretty dramatic shift in her worldview. She's angry - at the trolls, at herself, and at the world that betrayed her trust. She's tired of being jerked around, and her tumultuous emotions are making her rather testy. Basically, she's sick of all the bullshit, and she won't take it from anyone anymore.

Jadesprite has experienced the same catalyst, and has also come to mistrust the clouds, but for different reasons.

Jade rejects prophecies, in part, because she doesn't want to be deceived - but Jadesprite rejects them out of sheer hopelessness. She just doesn't care anymore.

They both have the same trauma, but they're dealing with it in very different ways - and at this point, I really do consider them to be different people.

And then on a metaphorical level, Jadesprite represents the 'silly', absent-minded childhood self that got Jade into this mess.

I think this taunt from Karkat hit very, very close to home for her, and I'm sure she associates the traits he described with her idyllic days on Prospit. It's part of why Dream Jade is such a perfect target for her fury.

@spyril4132 asked: i beg to differ on the entry item similarities only applying to prospit. iirc, rose shatters a bottle, and dave hatches an egg; both involve breaking open some sort of "shell", and neither are associated with a larger object, which could be seen as similar types of items. (while jade does break a piñata, she does so by shooting it, not by splitting it apart)

It's true that Rose and Dave's object's have some physical similarities, but John and Jade are both summoning the same tree, which feels like a much stronger connection.

Rose and Dave's entry cards also summoned auxiliary items, but they were different - a cabinet and bird, respectively. From where I'm sitting, the link between the two Prospit items does seem unique.

@skelekingfeddy asked: what herptiles would sally and sahlee have as their consorts? i feel like a monitor lizard would fit for one of them…maybe losas has like, turtle or tortoise consorts, what with their long-livedness and the wise sagely vibe and all.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing for Sahlee. Let's say they're Galápagos tortoises, because the Sage gives me Oogway vibes.

For Sally's Consorts, I'm going to get really funky and say they're a type of pterosaur.

@sparten4ever92 asked: The HS version of Megalovania is slept on way too much, the Vriska guitar adds so much to it that the UT version just doesn't have. @sanctferum asked: Finally, MeGaLoVania by Toby Fox (feat. Joren "Tensei" deBruin on guitar)! Would you say that Tavros had an…unpleasant chronological progression? (btw I do love the bit of Spider's Claw that plays during the Vriska segment, which is (obviously) unique to this Megalovania) also, the audiovisual style of homestuck flashes is just really cool imo @mimescantscream asked: You have no idea how long we've waited for the Megalovania

This version of Megalovania was a great choice for Aradia's finest hour - or at least, her finest hour so far.

It's moments like this which are why I decided to stop listening to the albums in advance. If I hadn't first heard Aradia's Megalovania in this flash, it wouldn't have hit the way it did.

@elkian asked: MEGALOVANIA TIME BAYBEEEE! Also, let's go back to that theory you had about Aradia getting more alive, because you NAILED it. @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i am so excited to see aradia again and finally as herself :33<

She's fucking BACK, baby!

Seeing Aradia smiling for real after all this time is genuinely heartwarming - and with her time-stop attack, she's almost unkillable. It'd take some absolute nonsense to take Aradia out of the picture again, and I think she'll be sticking around for a long time. Hopefully forever.

@grippingtraverse asked: notice any similarities during megalovania between aradia vs. jack & sans vs. player? 0u0

The best I can come up with is that Aradia and Frisk are both time travelers whose signature color is red.

Or maybe Jack is the Frisk analogue, since he's the one wiping out all life in the session, and Aradia is the last foe he faces.

@captorations asked: please consider, with this new information about aradia, what it could mean for her literary descendant dulcie septimus. please also keep considering this as you continue and see more of aradia. i am very normal about both of these characters

Ooh, they do have similar vibes, don't they? They're both doomed, they're strongly associated with death, and they both have a cheerful side that comes out when you don't expect it to.

@duorogue asked: "You have to give Nepeta some credit. The literal first thing she did after this traumatic murder was log into Trollian and report on Jack’s activities." To be fair to her, when I have a bad nightmare the first thing I do is log onto discord

nepeta hopping on mic at 2am to complain about the hat man (the hat man is doc scratch)

@absinthe-and-alabaster asked: when the writ keeper was introduced as fifth exile you mentioned that it was a little fucked up how the king was the only prospitian that was preserved - i just wanted to remind you that no, he wasn't ! on page 1974 we see all the other prospitians that were exiled with the white queen on her ship (including ms paint!) WQ just left them to go wander the desert

I'd actually forgotten about that. So much happened during the Act 4 ending that it completely slipped my mind. I even missed Ms. Paint!

Anonymous asked: Hey, as you noticed, the Dave Coin Split is a plot hole. We've never seen the timeline split because of someone's choice before. Compare to John flying to the seventh gate, there weren't two timelines based on his choice, the timeline only changed because Dave came back from the original timeline and changed it. And of course, like you said in the tags, Terezi shouldn't have been able to communicate with Doomed Dave, including to tell him the result of the FL1P. Have you noticed any other plot holes or things that don't seem to make sense?

While I see what you're saying, it might not necessarily be a plot hole! Certainly the Dave Coin Timeline was created in a different manner to Davesprite's - but that might just mean there are multiple ways to split a timeline, or that there are certain requirements that must be fulfilled for a decision to spawn one.

Because of things like that, it's hard to tell whether something's actually a plot hole, or if it'll eventually make sense in light of later reveals.

This is particularly true for aspects of the plot involving time travel, like the one you just described. Like, remember before I learned about Doomed Timelines, when I thought Davesprite broke Homestuck's predestination rules?

Anonymous asked: You said "God Tiering is just another way to inhabit your Dream Self," so do you think the things that Dream Selves can do (such as Jade growing extra arms) can be done by God Tiers?

I never really thought about that!

I think it's definitely possible. God Tier bodies can fly the same way that Dream Selves can, so other powers might transfer, too. Maybe the only reason Vriska, Aradia and John aren't shapeshifters is because Jade hasn't taught them to how to dream up extra limbs.

She might be one of the only Dream Selves who've learned how to shapeshift this fluidly. Logging thousands of hours on Prospit has its perks!

[chronurgy]

20 writer questions

tagged by: @lamortwrites (thank you!)

Tagging: @andrigyn, @defira85, and anyone else who's interested! I'm a little behind the curve so I don't want to tag a bunch of people who've probably already done this, but please consider yourself tagged if you're interested

How many works do you have on ao3?

Nineteen!

What’s your total ao3 word count?

65,507

What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Möbius Strips and Other Such Eternities (T, 8k, Ketheric writes letters to Isobel after her resurrection) 2. Departure from the Vulgar Crowd (M, 5k, dark urge/gortash, first meeting) 3. They Who Seek to Deceive (M, 10k, dark urge/gortash, post-coronation reunion) 4. Would You Give the Devil This Dance? (Would You be a Part of His Plans?) (T, 8k, dark urge/gortash, Wyll goes to a party and tries to square a circle) 5. The Bloody Spectacle of It (T, 3k, dark urge/gortash, a bhaalist observes his god and master)

What fandoms do you write for?

Bg3 is the only fandom I've put anything up on ao3 for so far, but I've also got a critical role campaign 2 wip and some rogue trader wips that I'm working on!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Eventually (oops). I always try to respond because comments mean so much to me and I want the person who left the comment to know how much I appreciate it! I'm just, uh, bad at knowing how to do that so it sometimes takes me awhile

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh hmm, that's hard to say! A few of my fics end on darker or less happy notes, but those tend to lean closer toward horror than angst, if that makes sense. I think I'd have to say either Would You Give the Devil This Dance? (Would You be a Part of His Plans?) for just how hard Wyll is working to make things seem okay when they clearly aren't or Not Glory but Power for how the near triumphant ending for young Enver is curdled with our knowledge of where this will lead him.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Also a somewhat difficult question! Probably They Who Seek to Deceive, in the sense that the main two characters certainly seem very happy about how things have turned out!

Do you get hate on fics?

Happily, no.

Do you write smut?

I would say that I haven't yet, but on the other hand my spouse says that I absolutely do. When I pointed out that there isn't any sex in any of my fics, they just said "you know that's worse, right?" So I guess it all depends on what you consider smut lol.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet, but I might give it a try someday

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! I think my stuff is too niche to be worth stealing for clout, honestly

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, no way is anything I write on that level of popularity!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I have not! I have no idea how that would even work with my slow and chaotic writing process

What's your all time favorite ship?

Really, really good question. Hard to say. I think dark urge/gortash has to be up there. Shadowgast, obviously. Probably Merlin/Arthur from the TV show too (yes I have bad taste).

What's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have the start of a very long Gale pov fic that's meant to cover all of acts 1 and 2, plus a tiny bit of act 3. It was going to focus on Gale and Vesper's developing relationship, on Gale slowly putting the bhaalspawn-shaped pieces together, and on moral flexibility and the relationship between wizards and power. So an exceptionally long fic already, made longer by the long-winded chatteriness of Gale's pov reinforcing my own worst tendencies, lol. It's one of those things I doubt I'll ever finish just for the sheer length of it, especially given that I'm not the fastest writer and I keep putting it aside for other projects. Maybe someday!

What are your writing strengths?

I'm a pretty decent worldbuilder I think, though that doesn't necessarily get a lot of airtime in fic. I'm solid with character voice and internal monologue as well.

What are you writing weaknesses?

I get lost in the sauce really easily and end up writing more than is really necessary or helpful to tell the story I'm trying to tell. I'm tend towards overexplaning things and not trusting people to pick up in what I'm trying to say (I'm working on it!)

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

If it's done to serve a purpose in the story, why not? Especially when you're pulling from a source material that does a lot of it to begin with.

First fandom you wrote for?

Almost certainly warrior cats

Favorite fic you've ever written?

It's tough and a very close competition, but in the end I think I have to go with They Who Seek to Deceive. The sheer amount of planning and double meaning I put into everything the characters say and don't say is what makes it for me, I think.

[diary-ofamadwoman]

chapter 112

hi I'm back with some fyolai thoughts (Sept 20th feels like yesterday and I was definitely not ready to see the manga version...)

first of all, where's Nikolai's hand? there are two panels of him with The Overcoat hiding his entire arm, which cannot be a coincidence. Also, as we know, he's strong enough to support his own body weight with just one arm, and Fyodor looks a lot lighter than him

"Is that so?"

i have a feeling this is not a regular question. Nikolai is known to use quizzes, rhetorical questions, or in short - there's always hidden meaning. when I first read it, I imagined Gogol saying it in a sarcastic tone, albeit a bit more dejected than usual

when I watched ep 11, it seemed to me that the reasons for Gogol's sadness could be his freedom (to kill Fyodor himself; to use him to achieve his freedom) having been taken away from him, or losing his closest person without being able to do anything, and so on

but seeing the same events unfold in the manga, I cannot help but think that he's downcast because of how unpredictable the vampire's (as well as Dazai and Chuuya's) action were and how fast everything happened, Nikolai had just been talking to Fyodor and the next moment the latter's gone...

or not? given the two panels of Nikolai's hidden arm, perhaps he was able to save his friend this time (in case the theory that the different BSD media are alternate universes turns out to be true). Anyway, Nikolai saving Fyodor here seems more plausible in the manga, as well as Nikolai's hesitation more understandable (if Fyodor's nearby, would Nikolai want to admit out loud he doesn't actually want Fyodor dead?)

it might be just the translation but this was more heartbreaking than I remember it:

there's difference between "My life since I met him felt nothing like it did prior" and "The moment I met him I knew that my life had become something entirely different"

I know that I just talked about Nikolai admitting his feelings (if Fyodor can hear him) but it makes sense here. His hesitation is admitting his current emotions, something that affects the present/future, while the second situation is related to the past - something that Fyodor certainly already knows

perhaps this depends on the translation too but from what I've seen the ending of Nikolai's speech is also slightly different

"Fyodor was right. I fought so I can lose sight of myself. Now I..."

"It's just as he said. I had begun fighting in order to lose myself. And now... look what's happened... Now all I want is just..."

or in other words, Nikolai didn't lose himself, he lost Fyodor

[zerosomnia]

Neteyam x Human! Reader

Summary: You don't show up to your morning lessons with the Tsahik, Ronal, and Neteyam finds himself worried over nothing.

Might make a part 2 👀

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none apart from spider being canonically stinky - you can't tell me that boy doesn't need a bath 🫣

Word count: 1.8k

Translations -

Skxawng = Moron

You remember the day you first visited Awa’atlu like it had happened yesterday. The Metkayina’s had been wary when you had arrived, stepping down from the helicopter with a hurried expression and wild hair. You had ignored their gathering and babbling as you bolted towards the marui pod that Jake had said Kiri resided in, ignoring Norm’s calls for you to wait and darting inside to see your beloved friend. Your heart sank to see her in such a state, and yet you had been given a gift. You were able to witness the true wonder of Na’vi healing, and you had been obsessed ever since. You weren’t so much obsessed in the spiritual way, though you had no reason to doubt Eywa’s existence, but you had always been highly scientific. It was then that your chance appeared. Norm and Max decided they needed a scientist to stay back and keep an eye on Kiri - and you all but jumped at the situation. Desperate to study the new life at the reef, you begged them to let you stay, promising you’d send back reports of the local fauna if you were allowed the chance to look after your friend.

In hindsight, your curious nature was likely due to growing up around Norm and Max, as the other child who was left behind. Spider had integrated himself with the Sully’s family - whereas you had integrated with the scientists, engrossing yourself in the biological wonder that was Pandora. Though you were still plenty close with Kiri and Lo’ak, it wasn’t hard to be when they were constantly dotting around the lab with spider, Neteyam and Tuk were more distant to you. Tuk was always around her mother, as a child should be, and Neteyam had been busy working and preparing for his iknimaya - his rite of passage. You were tentative acquaintances with him, but you certainly found yourself admiring his kind and jovial nature;  especially compared to his harsher mother.

As of recently, you had been assisting Ronal, Tsireya, and Kiri, adamant about learning the ways of Na’vi healing. Ronal, although wary of you, reluctantly let you tag along; even if it was just to keep an eye on you. She wasn’t keen on risking a human running wild about her village. And so you had been studying, soaking in everything she told you like a sponge. You found that your fluency in Na’vi often surprised her and coupled with your intense curiosity you made an adequate student. This is why it was unusual when you didn’t show up to your usual morning training - luckily, she wasn’t particularly bothered about your presence. After all, a human would never be Tsahik - but she did find herself offhandedly mentioning it to the girls as they were working. The lack of your questioning made for a considerably quieter session.

Once the morning’s training had passed, the group of teenagers and Tuk found themselves gathered on the shoreline. Sharing tales of their day and bantering about old adventures. The relationship between them had gradually been getting better, and again they found your presence was sorely missed. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” Kiri’s concerned stare turned to Spider, who shared her cabin that was a little ways off the village. It was the only place the two humans could breathe normally,so it made sense that they would stay together. Spider hummed for a moment.

“I haven’t seen her since last night, she was in her lab again. Told her to eat dinner but I don’t know if she actually did.” Surprisingly, Neteyam was the one who seemed most interested in the conversation. The others had already broken off into other topics, but he found himself pressing for more.

“You think she’s still there?” Spider nodded in response. 

“If she’s not with us or Ronal, she’s there. She never goes out alone.”

Despite spider’s reassurances, it wasn’t long before Neteyam found himself clambering up the small hill to the rockface where your cabin resided. He found himself worried, despite his lack of closeness with you. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. He peered in through the windows into the living space, a nervous choking panic began to fill his throat when there was no signs of movement within the room. Usually, he wouldn’t enter the human cabins unless he needed to. But he wanted to know that you were safe, Spider’s negligence of you irritated him in some way. He found himself surprisingly riled up as he opened the airlock and slipped on one of the CO2 masks that you kept for Na’vi visitors. He released the air seal and ducked under the doorway, it was only then that he realised he had no clue which room was yours. He had never been into the personal cabin that you and spider shared, and he found himself peering around the main living space with eyes like saucers. It was homely, woven blankets scattered over the couch, and various textbooks covering the coffee table and the floor in front of what he assumed was a TV (Spider had described it in detail to him). Some of Spider’s crafts were strewn across the lunch table - some sculptures that were barely started, and a weaving that looked far too intricate to be Spider’s own work. It appeared to be an arm band of some kind, with various pearls and beads woven into the pattern. 

He moved on through the building, quickly finding what he assumed was Spider’s room - surprisingly he found himself recoiling a little at the smell of the room. He had never noticed the boys smell personally, but then again they were always outside with him. 

Neteyam decided to close the door and move on, which left one more door that was cracked open. He peered in and quickly laid eyes on your slumped over figure. As he stalked closer he felt relief flooding his body hearing your heavy breathing, you were asleep. Judging from your uncomfortable pose and the samples strewn across your desk, you had fallen asleep while working. He found himself curious about what you had been doing and he peered down into your little microscope, quietly gasping at the millions of little circles and shapes that danced under the glass lens. It was only when he drew back a little he realised how close he was to your sleeping face. You looked so peaceful and serene, and he found himself reaching towards you. The skin of your cheek was soft under his gentle touch as he traced down the side of your face, he had never been this close to you. You were lovely, in a very human way, softer than the other muscled Na’vi he had grown up around, smaller too - he could tell even from his palm beside you that your entire head would perfectly fit into his hand. You stirred a little, jolting him out of his admiration and shifting him into a role more reminiscent of a caretaker.

“Y/N,” he whispered lowly, he didn’t really want to wake you - but you looked terribly uncomfortable leaning over the desk. You hummed lightly in response to his voice, leaning into his touch but not really waking. He repeated your name again, trying to be a little more assertive and louder with his words. “Y/N. You need to get up now, it’s midday.” The change in volume had your eyes slowly opening, squinting in the bright light that was beaming through your window. As you pushed yourself upwards and looked around a little, it took you a moment to realise who had woken you.

“Oh… hi Neteyam,” Surprise seemed to be laced into your tired voice, though you hadn’t yet noticed the proximity the two of you were sharing.

“Are you alright?” he nodded towards your work, waiting for your tired brain to catch up with what he was saying. You looked around in a confused manner before leaning back into his shoulder a bit to stretch and rub your face, the close contact had the scent of your shampoo consuming him, sweet and artificial in a mouth watering way.

Then your brain seemed to finally catch up, and the feeling of his towering figure leaning over you and his steady breathing against your neck sent a flurry of waves through your chest that turned your legs to jelly. 

“Uhm… yeah,” you managed to stammer out, whirling out from under him and towards the door in a flustered mess. “I… I really need a coffee.”

He followed your retreating figure through into the main room, where you hunched yourself over the coffee machine, desperately waiting for the ambrosia to cool so that you could fill your aching brain with thoughts again. You hadn’t noticed that Neteyam had wandered back over to the lunch table.

“This is nice,” he held up your weaving work. “Too nice to be Spider’s.” he chuckled and looked at you knowingly. The lump in your throat felt impossible to swallow, he wasn’t supposed to see it yet. His birthday was still at least a week away. Instead of answering you just nodded and inhaled a mouthful of coffee - in your haste it was still far too hot and you found yourself coughing and spluttering as molten lava made its way down your throat. Neteyam rushed over and took your cup. “Ah! Skxawng! Why would you try to drink that?!” He cursed at the heated mug as reached over and placed it behind you on the counter.

“I don’t know! You…” you trailed off as you realised how close to you he was, he had you trapped in the small corner, chest to chest with him. You found yourself lost in his honey coloured eyes, your breathing had both slowed down and sped up so that your heart was bursting out of your chest. He was so tantalisingly close, almost magnetically pulling you towards him.

“ I what…?” he whispered, leaning closer, his warm breath was fanning over your cheeks and you weren’t sure whether you should try to step back and press yourself further into the counter, or lean in and let the electricity between you both flow. But then suddenly he was gone, pulling back and away and your head was swimming, confused and nearly insulted, until you heard familiar laughter and chatter as Spider and Lo’ak barged through the door in a conversation. 

“You ok, Y/N?” Spider called to you, your frazzled expression and red face clearly causing some form of concern for him. You hummed a breathless yes back to him and quickly gathered your coffee, trying to rush back through to your room before you gave yourself away more - but not so quickly that you missed the small smile and tint of darker blue that graced Neteyam’s cheeks.

Maybe you hadn’t embarrassed yourself so much after all.

[project-sekai-facts]

Asking this because I genuinely need an explanation, not as a counterargument.

I'm 100% aware of the queer erasure going on in JP → EN translations. The shameless hiding of LGBTQ+ subtext is ridiculous. However, some examples have been bothering me lately ("bothering" as in, I've been thinking about them a lot), these examples being the lack of usage of the word "love", especially in one of Minori's.

In one of Minori's dialogues, she states that she loves Haruka (originally using "daisuki", if I recall correctly). The expression "love" in this case gets translated to "have feelings for", which is considered to be erasure. That's what bugs me: why would it be queer erasure?

In my first language, Spanish, we have the expression "te quiero" (literally "I want you", though it has no possessive connotations and it's a more toned version of loving), and the stronger "te amo" ("I love you"). The latter is generally used romantically, though it can be used in other contexts (I tell my deepest and closest friends both "te quiero" and "te amo", for example). From my understanding, English doesn't have an equivalent to "te quiero", so "I love you" can apply in any context.

However, and again, to my understanding, "having feelings for someone" is only ever used romantically. Maybe it's weaker than loving someone in a sense, but still, you wouldn't say you have feelings for someone who you wish to have/maintain a platonic relationship with (correct me if I'm wrong).

So, to my understanding:

"daisuki" → [strong] loving someone, with vague connotations (generally interpreted as romantic)

"I love you" → [strong] certainly used romantically, yet it can be platonic or familial too

"I have feelings for you" → [weaker] used romantically.

Does that make sense or am I being ignorant?

Ah sorry if I confused you with that example from the MMJ main story. I don't think it's erasure because the EN translation keeps the pretty much the same meaning, I pointed it out because of EN's refusal to translate the words suki/daisuki as love in certain instances.

EN seems to be willing to translate suki/daisuki directly when it's being used to talk about things or aspects of a person, like in these instances:

However, when it's used directly about a person, the translators always find some way around it, like in these instances:

(An/Kohane are an exception and iirc siblings are too?)

(Also in the Asahi example he uses a conjugated form of horeru but it means pretty much the same thing)

Whilst most of these convey the original meaning to some degree and don't really count for erasure, it's still odd that EN will not let the characters say they love each other. It's not even like it has to be interpreted romantically. Like it's firmly established that Leo/need are childhood best friends from the start, I don't think a lot of readers are going to jump straight to romance if the girls said they love each other. It's like they're removing it as a "just in case" so that no one can view it as romantic at all.

Yeah, you're right that "having feelings for someone" is by far more commonly used in a romantic sense. Whilst some people irl probably use it platonically (most likely aspec ppl), in media you're really only going to hear it used romanitcally. It's not weaker than "I love you" imo, but it depends on who you ask because to other people it might be weaker/stronger.