solarfyn

[solarfyn]

too close for comfort

♡ jeonglix

♡ explicit

♡ 5k words

♡ canon comp, pwp, virginity kink + hyung kink + freaky frotting and handjobs + overstim

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/66937600

[solarfyn]

stereotypes are only harmful if they're not true

🚗 minsung but also i inserted my friend lex into the fic?

🚗 rated g

🚗 7k words

🚗 crack, self insert, prius shenanigans, great times all around

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/66849133

[solarfyn]

klemperer rosette

🪐 hyuninho

🪐 rated teen

🪐 7k words

🪐 codependency, nonfamous au, reunions, hurt/comfort

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/66547978

[solarfyn]

author's note

one of my goals for 2025 was to write a fic inspired by one of my favorite bands called glass animals! i feel like i don't really talk about my music taste much online (maybe i should???), but you may have heard of them since they're pretty popular! this past summer (2024) they released a new album and immediately, my mind was Full of possibilities.

the album, titled "i love you so f****** much", is an exploration of different types of love, healthy and toxic. each song is full of grief, of danger and emotions too big to hold within oneself, and i think it's a perfect album to base fics off of. (i might write another! we'll see hehe)

speaking of fics! i'm definitely a very small author, but i'd say my "brand" of last year was either my short pwp's or my lighthearted fics, which is solely what i wrote before very recently.

i felt like i wasn't really open to writing darker themes especially because i was scared of reception (which is crazy, because i had like. 150 ao3 subscribers). I was the crack-treated-seriously writer (said no one)! I believed i couldn't write serious fics just because they would be too mentally draining and people would get scared off. but Then my friend mila inspired me to...

and i wrote major character death. which i feel like is Pretty Intense.

(if interested i did talk about my stance on darkfic/dd:dne in a previous post!)

anyway, ever since i published the mcd (fic and author's note found here) i felt like i could really lean into darker themed fics. because if people don't like what they see in their inbox, they don't have to read it! and i'm still working on not caring what other people think about my writing hehe.

i genuinely think writing such a heavy fic expanded my writing capabilities tenfold. last year (my first year of writing), i was still exploring How To Write. this year, i aim to expand my writing style! (you may have seen my style shift a lot in the past 6 or so fics i've written this year hahaha). i've written 2k fics, i've written One 30k fic, and i aim to explore more options, themes, and styles in the future!

anyway, back to the original purpose of this post: talking about my fic!

this fic was inspired by the 7th track on the album, titled how i learned to love the bomb (video) (lyrics)

from genius:

“How I Learned to Love the Bomb” captures the internal conflict of being simultaneously drawn to and repelled by a loved one’s dark side. It makes multiple references to characters known for having menacing alter-egos. The title is likely a nod to the 1964 film Dr Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.

i also pasted a quote from the writer/singer in the beginning notes of the fic, but here it is again!

It’s about realising that there’s a side to someone that you’ve never really seen before and it comes out and it’s fucking petrifying because it’s dark. You’re just asking yourself this question: Actually, does it excite you? Are you a psychopath for getting a bit of a thrill from it? Are they a bit of a psychopath for hiding this from you? Who’s the psychopath here? We’re all psychopaths. I don’t know if that’s the conclusion, but it is asking the question. On one hand, it is absolutely thrilling, and on the other hand this is dangerous territory, you should fucking run.

it's so chilling!!!! i knew immediately that this was something i wanted to write, so i sat down, thought about how chan has said before that he wants to "protect" his kids, and cranked my fic out in a week.

though it's quite short, hovering around 3k (?) i made sure to pack the story to the brim with metaphors. examples. comparing emotions to physical feelings. this is because i personally cannot decipher my own emotions (autism check), and i have spent my entire life guessing what emotions i'm feeling. so a lot of my thinking comes from people describing their emotions to me, and me translating it into physical metaphors.

Chan’s love can be sweet, yes, but it can also be—what’s the word—hungry. That’s it.

love is a "good" emotion. chan knows this. however, at this moment, he's starting to discover a deeper part of him. not evil, just more inclined to take risks. more dangerous. he's starting to question what love means to him.

when you can't tell the subtle differences between your emotions and you only feel "good" or "bad", you're prone to snapping at people or towards yourself out of confusion.

i wanted chan to have that conflict too.

in this fic, chan (along with the rest of skz) grew up in an unspecified correctional boarding school for "different" kids (my headcanon was that they're all just really neurodivergent). i didn't really bother going too deeply into the history of the boarding school, and only really hinted at how much damage they did to the kids. this was on purpose, and was because i wanted the focus of the fic to be on how the kids survived and continue living after they escaped the school, not the school itself (though i may write a fic about their past one day. not too sure yet).

chan undergoes a lot of stress as teen. he has never learned the correct coping mechanisms. because he was always on guard from such a young age, chan unconsciously started to equate love with protection.

we see that he cannot regulate his emotions, and we never see his real personality underneath his fear.

when i write darkfic of real people, i purposefully make my characters more out of character to separate them from their real world counterparts. i’ll take one or two personality traits and pull it to the extreme. for chan, i took his protective, self-sacrificing nature and showed how far he can go.

Chan’s always willing—to take a bullet or to become one, in the name of love.

The fire burns lower, deep in his gut, threatening to bubble over and spill into his limbs, his mind, his heart. He might let it.

For him, [grief] takes the shape of a molten rock in his stomach. At any moment, it could burn a hole through him. At any moment, it could explode, the shrapnel lodging itself everywhere—killing him from the inside. Chan’s not letting it, though. Because if he goes, then so do the kids. His kids. And that can’t happen.

chan is not like this irl. i know this. the reader knows this. but i understand that it can be easy to blur real and fake together, so i made sure to change his personality a little. by blocking what makes irl!chan himself, i wrote a new fictional character who’s only inspired by him. and i think this makes it easier to digest, because rpf gets a little muddy around the edges when it comes to writing morally-gray fic!

regarding the bond the skz have with each other in this fic, i really wanted to emphasize the found family closeness. yes, romantic relationships are beautiful, but so are platonic ones!!! and there aren't a lot of them!!! so i made it my personal goal to write one, even if it's a little bit fucked up. (maybe i'll write a cuter one in the future. they deserve itttt)

my favorite way to emphasize closeness is to highlight very small, specific instances that are familiar to the reader and also the characters. it's a good way to solidify that bond that you're kind of stepping into, as a reader!

this is in the very beginning of the fic, and i thought it was important to set up how chan sees his family. to love is to understand. and chan understands them very very well (and vice versa).

i take characterization seriously when it comes to my fics--dynamics are probably The most important thing i focus on (with plot and setting/descriptions lesser prioritized). i find skz to be very interesting, and i love exploring their personalities, their motivations, and how i can use them for EVIL (haha. not really. for evil fic writing purposes). i watched all the kids' rooms and i watch a lot of skz codes to make sense of how they interact with one another, and then i greedily file away the information for future use. that's about all the unsolicited advice i can give without feeling awkward HAHA

anyway. ugh. UGHHHH i could write so much about chan and his family. about the eight lost kids who find each other in every lifetime, in every story. they're so important to me..... and i'm very glad i have the opportunity and time to write about them!

this blog post has come to a close (and i have run out of things to say), but thank you once again for reading my fic!! and for reading this giant wall of words if you made it to the end :) i am so grateful to be seen!!!!

[solarfyn]

my (unsolicited) stance on darkfic/dd:dne

disclaimer: the darkfic categories i write are major character death, sad endings, and horror, and most things under that umbrella. i do not read nor write any sexual darkfic. i also do not consider myself a regular darkfic writer. most of my "serious" stories will have elements of hurt/comfort, which doesn't necessarily fall under darkfic. when writing hurt/comfort, i enjoy dissecting the effects of death (and grief), the complexity and depth of emotions, and character interactions and analyses. i only refer to these themes as "dark" when it gets to a point where the character's morality is being tested.

okay now that that's out of the way...

when i write darkfic/dd:dne (ESPECIALLY about real people), the core takeaway of the fic is Never about the act itself.

for me, the purpose of writing a morally gray character is to show that morality is flexible. it’s interesting to explore the limits of being human, of making humane decisions. a person might have understandable intentions, but at the end of the day will make difficult decisions that are hard to agree with. i want people to read about them and be like “well Fuck i don’t know if that was the right thing to do”. when i write darkfic, i want it to be engaging--almost interactive. i think that's what makes it so twisted and so good, because then, the horrific stories are almost too close for comfort.

i want my fics to be a little bit scary and a little bit unsettling. my characters' actions will always be up to interpretation. i want people to question if they even agree with this character anymore, if they’ve broken the readers trust. the purpose of putting a character through this situation is to explore Why they are risking everything. there’s always an outside motivation when it comes to gray characters. when i wrote about chan as a murderer, he did it to protect his family. so the core of the fic wasn’t about murder, it was about found family and the extremes someone would go to love and protect.

darkfic is not something i see myself writing a lot of. i certainly don't read it often, if ever. it's exhausting and mentally draining! that being said, there's something appealing about learning the limits of the human psyche. exploring what's possible, and what's beyond possible. maybe it's the autism in me but exploring all facets of humanity, the good and the bad, is incredibly fascinating!!

[solarfyn]

quiet declarations

🤍 2min

🤍 3k words

🤍 rated teen

🤍 preslash, pining, acts of service, banter, one-shot

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/65147149

[solarfyn]

in another life

🪐 minsung

🪐 rated teen

🪐 28k words

🪐 traveling the multiverse, soulmates, magical realism, canon comp

written for minsung ficathon round 5!

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/64218673

[solarfyn]

author's note

hellooooo minsung ficathon readers! i feel like i'm a Pretty Niche skz author, so if you're new to my page, hello and welcome! i'm a multishipper and lover of character explorations, serious and Unserious. sometimes i like to do these horrifically long authors notes for my fics because i spent a long time writing them! and i love to break down my thought processes, so hopefully you find this somewhat entertaining sldkhfliwehflishdf

first off, this fic would not exist without the movies Everything Everywhere All At Once and Spiderman: Across the Spider-Verse (and ofc the first spider-verse movie). the concept of traveling across the multiverse in the name of love is something so beautiful to me and i really wanted to capture that and really hone in on the "soulmate" concept that minsung seem to fit so well into! so if you haven't already, i highly suggest you check those movies out <3

now for the actual writing process...

god this fic fought me so hard. fun fact, this was one of the very first fics i started for minsung! way back in i think--what was it, april 2024? i originally picked it up as an off-season prompt from round 4, and then took way too long to complete it, and then abandoned it for about half a year, and then changed my mind and resubmitted it as a self-prompt for round 5, so it took me exactly a year to finish it!!!! it's been shuffled through about 4 significant google doc drafts hahaha

i had so much trouble writing this one, just because it encompassed so many different minhos and jisungs, and i didn't really know how to explore that in a fic. one of my biggest struggles was i spent far too long in the spinoff universes, trying to establish those, instead of focusing on the Reason why jisung was out here fixing things up in different worlds.

what is jisung prime's goal? why is he going out of his way to do all these things? the real center of the fic should be jisung, figuring out that running away from his problems by conveniently being whisked into a bunch of universes is Not the move. that he needs to focus on himself back Home too. i realized this about uhh. a month before this fic was due? so Far too late in the game. LSKDFLSKF anyway it turned out fine so remember everyone... trust your gut and trust the process...

because i've spent so long on this fic, i ended up doing Heavy editing and some serious rewrites for the first half of it because i was learning how to Write Fanfiction the past year, and so the beginning draft was. so rough. please see an excerpt from the original document below...

i wrote this bit in april of 2024, and at this point i was Extremely aware that my writing didn't meet my own expectations. i didn't like the flow, i didn't like how robotic jisung's thoughts were, and i didn't like how it was so short! i think being able to write 11 (!!!) fics and 7 drabbles since last year helped me a lot so i could come back and finish this one :)

it took me a little while to find my footing within this fandom especially because it's so big!!! but eventually i found my friends and they've inspired me so very much so i'd just like to shoot a short thank you to everyone i've met-- you guys make me love writing <3 and it's been amazing to bounce ideas and skills and advice off of each other!!

in another life is my longest fic to date, spanning across a grand total of 28,395 words. if you know me, you know that wordcounts are my ENEMY. before this, NONE of my fics have crossed 10k, and more often than not, i'm out here cranking out so many ideas in the form of drabbles, and just never expanding on them. so to create a fic that took a whole year of my attention span on Top of being 28k words is pretty cool. that's an accomplishment that i'll pat myself on the back for!

ok now let's pretend we're having a conversation.

you: so, with this many universes, i'm sure there are... ones that got Rejected, right? me: yeah do you want to see them here you go enjoy

unfortunately i did have to cut some universes out from the final lineup for length and time purposes... in an ideal world this fic would have a gazillion different situations for jisung prime to prance around in, but at a certain point, he's not really doing too much in them anymore! the more mini stories i add, the more it takes away from the main "point" of the fic... so i had to cut it short to one of each "category" for jisung to learn from

jisung prime's world, canon compliant

canon divergence

childhood friends to eventual lovers

spiderhan. there's no explanation to this i just really wanted to write spiderhan

QUEERBAITING!!!!

inspired by eeaao's rock scene, but i wanted to make minsung a couple of cosmos flowers <3

(+ a secret nct one that my good friend and beta hal suggested HAHA it was perfect and so funny and i just had to add it to the fic)

also canon divergence, but with a Big Regret

now for the rejected ones and Why...

this idea spawned from when i was deep in the trenches of my bridgerton hyperfixation (around when season 3 was released). i did not have the capacity to figure out how regency era minsung would have used english... that's it... that's the whole reason... but here's a little snippet from my comments....

2. so... big news.. i actually repurposed this and created an entire universe inspired by teen wolf!!! unfortunately for some of you it is vaguely implied poly ot8 (they're a wolf pack!!! they're gonna do wolf pack things!!! sometimes it includes a little polyamory!!!), so if that's not your thing, i am sorry and please only read the first installment of the series, which will be minsung-focused, found here <3

3. coffee shops are cute, but i don't think it would've added much to the story unfortunately... maybe in the future i could write it as a standalone?? no promises though!

oh yeah! a final note... one of the biggest of the small details was that i made sure not to let minsung kiss a single time until the very end. as mentioned above, i wanted to make sure the end goal of the fic was for minsung to get together in their Own world. and so if jisung got with minho in a different universe, that's taking away the attention from jisung's original goal. does that make sense? i hope that made sense. feel free to dm me if it doesn't at any point hehehe.

man these blog posts always get way too long and way too disorganized. it's fine, we'll get better with every post hahaha that's always how it is... stick with your passions friends! they will reward you <3

[solarfyn]

any colour you like

⟡ hyunchan

⟡ rated g, 1.6k words

⟡ non famous au, meet-cute, drabble!

also available on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64470517

“Do you come here often?” Hyunjin says quietly. It’s meant to be a joke—clearly the man doesn’t. He’s staring pretty hard at a pamphlet—fully unfolded, looking like he’s an adventurer lost on an expedition. The man spins around to face Hyunjin. His eyes widen as he chokes a bit. “Holy—” he coughs, ears turning a spectacular shade of red in record time. How cute. “Uh—no. Never, actually.” He lets out a short chuckle, hand shooting up to rub at the back of his neck. “Is it that obvious?? [Or: Museum curator Hyunjin doesn’t see a lot of variety within his visitors. Then, Chan comes along.]

There’s a man who shouldn’t be there.

Actually, Hyunjin can’t be one to judge—anyone is free to visit his curation. In fact, he’s glad it’s bringing a wider variety of people—he’s been getting a bit tired of continuously reaching the same type of audience—beige-clad, sometimes-pretentious, self-proclaimed experts of fine arts. Some are professionals with several decades of art experience, some are fresh-faced students. But they all wear the same contemplative expression, they all carry the same furrow to their eyebrows. They know exactly where they’re supposed to be.

All of them except for this one man. Slightly short, with wide shoulders. Pale, like he hasn’t seen the sun in a while. Wearing all black—his clothing looks to be expensive, high quality, with small designer labels hanging here and there. Low-key. Nearly inconspicuous. His boots thunk against the floor, making large echoing sounds that bounce off the walls of the exhibit. His ball cap (also black) does a good job of hiding his face from most angles, but fails to conceal the wrinkles between his eyebrows—they make him look all confused, almost puppy-like despite his more intimidating sense of style.

He’s a stark contrast against the cream-colored walls. A beautiful ink blot on an otherwise blank canvas.

“Do you come here often?” Hyunjin says quietly. It’s meant to be a joke—clearly the man doesn’t. He’s staring pretty hard at a pamphlet—fully unfolded, looking like he’s an adventurer lost on an expedition. Hyunjin can see it’s an old one—the edges are dog-eared, as if they’ve been shoved into too many pockets. And it’s the last quarter’s brochure. Half the works featured on that poor paper aren’t even in the museum’s possession anymore.

The man spins around to face Hyunjin. His eyes widen as he chokes a bit. “Holy—” he coughs, ears turning a spectacular shade of red in record time. How cute. “Uh—no. Never, actually.” He lets out a short chuckle, hand shooting up to rub at the back of his neck. “Is it that obvious?”

Hyunjin hums. Nods his chin towards the paper. “Only a little. That’s from last season, isn’t it?”

The man gets even redder, if possible. He cringes as he folds the paper to see the front, where a large date proves Hyunjin right.

“Wow. That’s embarrassing, haha. Do you have a new one, maybe?”

Hyunjin smiles. Does he ever. He reaches into his back pocket and produces one with a little flourish. It’s stupid. He might regret the silly action later, right as his brain decides to recount every cringey moment in his life as he’s trying to fall asleep.

But it doesn’t matter, because the smile that lights up the man’s face is entirely worth it. “Oh, thanks! He folds his old one carefully, swinging his backpack around to his front to put it away. “I like the colors.” He waves the new one around. “Very—colorful.”

Hyunjin suppresses a snort. The man’s trying—he really is. Hyunjin has to give him at least some credit. “Thank you,” he says. “My friend designed them.” Felix did a good job with the assignment—he chose bold typefaces, a beautiful maximalist layout on the inside packed with photos. He was a nerd about it too, explaining how the graphic design style matches up with the historical timeline as well.

“Your friend?” The man tilts his head to the side. “Oh, do they work here? Do you work here too?” He flicks his eyes between the paper and Hyunjin quickly, as if he can’t keep his eyes fixed on him for too long.

Hyunjin cracks a grin. “Well, I guess you could say that.” He taps on the bottom corner of the brochure, right next to the man’s pale fist.

“Curated by Hwang Hyunjin,” he reads out loud. It sounds beautiful coming from his lips. “Is that… you?” He looks up.

Hyunjin manages a shrug.

“Oh my god—this is so embarrassing. I’m talking to the person who designed this space—” he gestures around him—“and I don’t even understand what I’m looking at.”

“I can teach you,” Hyunjin finds himself saying. “Call it a little private tour. It’s no big deal.” He lifts a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone, though. I can’t be caught giving out exclusive tours, y’know?”

The man smiles, eyes scrunching up into little crescents. “You can trust me. And I guess it’s only fair for me to give you a secret too. I’m Bang Chan—I was supposed to come here with my gym buddy, but he abandoned me to hang out with his boyfriend. He’s the one who designed the previous edition.” He points a thumb at his backpack.

Boyfriend. Hyunjin tries not to be too hopeful. Just because his friend is queer doesn’t mean he is.

Focus, Hyunjin.

“Nice to meet you, Bang Chan-ssi. Your friend’s boyfriend is Kim Seungmin?”

Seungmin was the graphic designer before Felix got hired—he was really good at what he did—so good that he got promoted to a higher level. He’s working for the museum website now. Hyunjin barely hears from him nowadays, so it’s a surprise that Chan knows him.

Chan brightens. “Yeah, that kid.”

“Kid?” Hyunjin says with a wry smile.

Chan’s mouth opens in surprise, then flattens into a line, dimples poking out sheepishly. “Ah, well, he’s only a few years younger. I’ve just known him since we were kids, and 1997 to 2000 was a pretty big age gap when we were in school.”

What a small world.

“I was also born in 2000. Would I be a kid to you then?” Hyunjin is never this bold. He usually lets people come to him, lets them make the first move. But there’s something about this seemingly-permanently flustered man. Something about him just makes Hyunjin curve towards him like a flower inching its way towards the sun.

“Nah,” Chan says, meeting his eyes. They’re brown, soft. Appealing. An easy smile spreads across his face. “You wouldn’t.”

Hyunjin clears his throat, suddenly feeling a bit too sweaty for the temperature controlled atmosphere. “Good to know,” he says. “We should get this tour going—I’ve got a lot to say.”

Chan is a perfect listener. He asks questions at the right parts, and they’re good ones too. And he makes excellent comments despite claiming to know nothing about art. Hyunjin suspects he knows more than he’s letting on, and is only being humble.

There’s a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips every time he looks at Hyunjin, and as they spend more time together, the initial shyness in Chan’s behavior fades away to a man that looks charming, for lack of a better word.

Suddenly, Hyunjin feels like they’ve switched personalities. Every time Chan nods to let him know he can keep talking, Hyunjin feels a little bit redder in the face. He feels faint while watching Chan stand there, cool as ever in his all-black getup, pointing with a veiny hand at various painting techniques. Techniques Hyunjin has been teaching him throughout their tour.

Hyunjin needs a blast of air towards his face to keep him sane. Or a cold shower. He wants Chan—so badly, of course, but even worse, he finds himself wanting to get to know the man as well.

His heart flutters behind his ribs, so delicately, as if he was twelve again, with a crush on a boy far too cool to ever give him the time of day.

But it’s different now. Hyunjin’s older, more secure. He knows his worth—spent a long time working on himself to stand proudly. Chan’s more than just a cool boy, he’s kind. Three-dimensional. And very willing to make conversation.

Towards the end of the tour, Hyunjin finds himself staggering his footsteps, dragging them across the nice flooring—anything to buy more time. He explains the choices of wood frames for each painting, the finish of the surfaces, the type of brushes used in each period. Useless knowledge.

And yet, Chan remains attentive. His head cocked to the side, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. His eyes never lose their sparkle, even when they’re rimmed in dark circles.

But, like all good things, they reach the end of the last hallway, far too soon for Hyunjin’s liking.

“Guess that’s it,” he says, through slightly clenched teeth and a tight jaw. “I hope that was a satisfactory tour.”

“More than.” There goes that eye-smile again. “Those explanations at the end really sold me on fine art. Do you think I’ll win at trivia night if I pick the art history category now?”

“Maybe.” Hyunjin huffs out a laugh. “I might have to be there, though, just in case you forget,” he says, before he can regret it.

Chan doesn’t hesitate. “Seungmin’s super good at trivia—and Changbin loves to brag about him, so we’ll definitely have to kick their asses next time. Gotta humble them, and all.”

“Oh? Then we should definitely practice.”

Chan shoves his hands into his pockets, his ears tinged pink. “We’ll need it. What about coffee? This Wednesday, if you’re free?”

Hyunjin can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face—he probably looks ridiculous, but Chan’s soft eyes never waver.

“Here,” Hyunjin pulls out his phone. “Put your number in, we can talk more later. It’s a date?” He bites his lip, not missing the way Chan catches the movement.

“It’s a date.”

[solarfyn]

i love how nervous ao3 looks. people share so many stories and worlds and universes in the website and it was made with barebones html and looks like it was frozen in 2008... there's something so endearing and human about it... what a perfect site for fanfiction

[solarfyn]

nailed it

♡ minsung

♡ rated gen, less than 1k words

♡ canon-comp fluff, nail painting, banter

also available on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63012613

“I need to make your nails cute for when we go out tomorrow. You agreed! You said I could.” Minho supposes he kind of did. Or at least, he was convinced. “I don’t need excess layers of chemicals on my nails,” he had said defensively. But then Jisung pulled out the giant watery eyes and the disappointed pout and what the fuck, Minho can’t believe it works every single time, without error.

“Stop twitching,” Jisung smacks his thigh. “It won’t come out pretty if I fuck it up.”

Minho grits his teeth, splaying his fingers wider. A wild streak of black nail polish hits his cuticle, and Jisung frowns.

“Hyung—I said stop moving.” Jisung sighs and reaches behind him for the nail polish remover. He dunks yet another cotton swab in the acetone, then rubs viciously at Minho’s finger, before tossing it into a small pile of already-stained swabs.

He’s so pretty, with his clipped-back hair and pouty little mouth. A couple of overgrown strands threaten to escape his cute hair clips (stolen from their stylist), and Minho has an urge to tuck the locks behind his ear.

Obviously, he’s going to act on that urge. He’s nothing if not impulsive.

Minho reaches out with his unpainted hand, curling Jisung’s long hair behind his ear. The natural black is starting to sprout from his roots, soft and undamaged, courtesy of the longer break. Here, Jisung is softer, more genuine. He hasn’t worn makeup in a week, his skin clean. Minho runs his thumb on the shell of Jisung’s ear, watching as it turns slightly pink.

Jisung leans instinctively into his touch for a split second before righting himself suddenly.

“No touching,” he says seriously. “Or I’ll have to—tape your hands to the table, or something.”

Minho blinks. “I’d like to see you try.”

Jisung flushes. “Stop,” he whines, stretching the word out. “I need to make your nails cute for when we go out tomorrow. You agreed! You said I could.”

Minho supposes he kind of did. Or at least, he was convinced. 

“I don’t need excess layers of chemicals on my nails,” he had said defensively. But then Jisung pulled out the giant watery eyes and the disappointed pout and what the fuck, Minho can’t believe it works every single time, without error.

Jisung had been so excited about it, even showed him a folder of nail inspo on his phone. They were all pretty cool, rockstar-esque designs, featuring stars and dark colors. Grungy. Very Jisung. He scrolled all the way to the bottom and clicked on a black design with white bunny faces to show to Minho.

“It’s you!” he said, cradling the phone in his hands, his own painted nails glittering with black and red hearts.

“It’s me,” Minho had agreed. 

So here he is, letting his cute boyfriend paint his nails the evening before Valentine’s day.

“It looks nice,” Minho says, trying to see around Jisung’s head. He’s not actually sure if it does, but he trusts Jisung (who’s neck is currently bent at nearly a ninety-degree angle, face dangerously close to a set of wet nails). “How many fumes are you breathing in today?”

“So many fumes,” Jisung says without looking up. “But it’s worth it, because you’re gonna have the best nails. Everyone’s gonna be jealous of us when we pick up our takeout.”

Minho hums, then breathes out of his nose, fighting the urge to squirm. “When can we take a break?”

Jisung grunts. “Not yet. I need to wait until this layer dries.”

“Why didn’t we just do gel? It’s faster.”

Jisung’s head snaps up, eyebrows scrunched together. “Who taught you about gel nails?”

“You like them. I researched.” The few times Jisung got his nails professionally done, he always made sure to shove his hands in Minho’s face and loudly proclaim that they’re gel. Minho got curious about how the process was different from regular polish, so he spent two hours learning about both types. He cares about his boyfriend’s interests. Sue him.

Jisung blinks about thirty times in a few seconds. “I love you.”

Minho smiles. “I love you too.” He wiggles his fingers, praying they’re not cramping with the position they’ve had to be in for the last ten minutes. “Break time?”

“Fine,” Jisung stresses. “But you have to promise that you’re gonna come back. We have to put the bunnies on.”

“What about just one bunny? It’ll still be cute.”

“All of them,” Jisung says, his eyes squinted. “We have to do all of them. My self-control is being tested today, and I still want to win.”

“You always win in my heart.”

“I know. Which is why I’m allowing you one make out session.”

Minho’s hands twitch forward—

“No—hands to yourself. Bad cat.”

Minho wrinkles his nose. “This is stupid. Your nail polish hates love.”

“Hyung, they have to dry. You have to listen to me.”

“What am I gonna do? I have to sit here, a beautiful boy hopefully perched on my lap within the next five seconds, and I can’t even grab his waist? Should I just die?” Minho slouches against the couch.

Jisung rolls his eyes, and clambers over the table to seat himself on Minho’s spread thighs. His knees press against Minho’s hips, arms settled on either side of Minho’s neck. 

“Just sit still, okay?” Jisung’s head tilts to the side, hair flopping everywhere. Then, he leans in and kisses Minho oh-so-softly.

“This better give me the strength I need to get through the rest of the nails,” Minho says, all muffled against Jisung’s mouth.

Jisung smiles, close-lipped, making his cheeks look all round and squishy. “You’re so dramatic. Of course it will.”

Then, he leans in again.

[solarfyn]

an inch away from more than just friends

⟡ minsung

⟡ explicit (18+)

⟡ 5.5k words

⟡ cisswap, omegaverse, pwp, college au, omega jisung/alpha minho

 🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/60509776

[solarfyn]

stars in limbo

2min

rated g

1.6k words

meet-cute, end of the world, conversations about death, alternate universe: nonfamous

also available on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62596654

When the sky glows brighter and sparkles start blooming across the dark expanse above them, Seungmin simply looks up. And his first fully-formed thought is not something of terror, like he assumed it would be. No, he just comes to a simple conclusion. A simple acceptance. Well, that’s pretty. “Guess I’m not gonna die of old age,” a voice muses lightly next to him.

Seungmin didn’t expect the end of the world to look so beautiful.

The sky isn’t supposed to be so bright at this time. Especially not when Seungmin’s returning home from the noraebang. His throat is pleasantly hoarse and his tie is loose around his neck, and everything is normal, except the familiar chill of the night winds don’t match the endless, eerie glow above him. It doesn’t feel right, to be trudging along the sidewalk, parallel patches of grass glistening with the barely-there snow of late February, while light bleeds through everything.

He feels a little bit like a bug underneath a brightly lit microscope. Like the world is too far open around him. Like there’s nowhere to hide. It’s unsettling, but not enough for Seungmin to feel scared. He’s just… suspended in this balance between caution and genuine worry. In limbo, maybe.

Seungmin is a thinker, but not like Hyunjin. Not artistically, where he can pick out colors from a hundred feet away and say with full confidence, “This building is the exact shade of the kimchi jjigae I had for dinner last night.” Not like Jisung, who folds hundreds of sounds and words into stories, little bite-sized morsels for everyone in the world to listen to, if they were so inclined. “The words connect themselves, I just write it down,” he says. “Music is like a game that whispers secrets to me. It’s easy.”

Seungmin ponders. He thinks about what he’s going to eat for dinner, and he thinks that he should call his parents soon. If he’s feeling brave enough, his ambitions cross his mind. When he has a train of thought, he has to finish it, otherwise it would be a waste of his time. Those are minutes he can’t get back, so he has to use them wisely

He supposes he is artistic, to some degree. He likes singing—practices twice a week at the noraebang after work. He’s not good enough for a career in it or anything, but it’s a nice hobby. He doesn’t need to remind himself to stay realistic anymore—it’s ingrained itself into his brain. That it’s just for fun. The feeling of his voice filling the room, with himself as the only judge—it’s freeing. It’s nice.

He enjoys his job—or as much of it as he can. It’s boring work, but the benefits pay well and his boss is nice enough, if a little impersonal. But that’s never bothered Seungmin.

Overall, he’s a practical person with practical thoughts, so it’s a surprise that he can’t seem to finish them at this moment. They’re all fractured, like strings snapping before anything coherent can form. Gut reactions. Emotional ones—nothing of real value. Oh, wow, his brain provides unhelpfully. Bright—the—above—how is it—my eyes—call my mom—my job—

When the sky glows brighter and sparkles start blooming across the dark expanse above them, Seungmin simply looks up. And his first fully-formed thought is not something of terror, like he assumed it would be. No, he just comes to a simple conclusion. A simple acceptance.

Well, that’s pretty.

“Guess I’m not gonna die of old age,” a voice muses lightly next to him.

Seungmin rips his gaze away from the beautiful sky to face an equally beautiful man, eyes wide open in wonder, reflecting the bright falling lights within them. His jaw is slack, top two teeth sticking out. Pink cheeks, flushed from the wintery chill, and donning a heavy winter coat.

“Guess not,” Seungmin finds himself responding, his mind blank. He’s not usually impulsive like this, usually minds his own business. His friends would call him closed-off. He would argue that there’s nothing wrong with being a private person.

But something about the situation has him desperate. For more time, maybe. For another chance. Maybe he’s feeling more brave tonight. It’s the end of the world. There’s nothing left to lose.

The beautiful man flicks his gaze towards Seungmin, scoffing out a laugh. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to nagging my grandchildren to massage my sore joints.”

Despite it all, Seungmin finds himself smiling softly. “That sounds nice.”

“Sure is nicer than dying as a lonely twenty-something year old. But eh, I’ll take what I get. Just expect me to complain a whole lot.” The man shrugs. “Lee Minho,” he introduces himself with a small bow. “ninety-eight-liner.”

“Kim Seungmin—two-thousand.”

“Nice.” Minho grins a bit wildly, like a feral cat. “We can drop the honorifics. It’s the end of the world—you’ll call me hyung.”

“Okay,” Seungmin agrees easily.

“So, Kim Seungmin—have you ever thought about how you’ll die?”

He can’t really say he has. Seungmin’s always focused on the present. Obviously, it doesn’t count when he’s thinking about his career, because that’s practical planning. Death is—well, before, he hoped it was too far ahead to worry about.

It’s strange to be staring it in the face.

“I want a long and healthy life, as I said before.” Minho answers his own question, seemingly impatient. “But here’s the thing—as soon as my muscles start failing, I’m gone.”

Seungmin raises his eyebrows. “You think you’ll be able to control when you die?”

“Of course.” Minho shrugs. “I’ve got many talents.”

“Name one.”

“Ooh, why should I? Do you think you deserve to know?”

Seungmin scoffs. “It’s the end of the world, hyung. Humor me.”

“Hm. Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.” Minho blinks a couple times, lost in thought. “I can communicate with cats.”

Oh. That’s not what Seungmin expected.

“Like, you meow to them and they meow back?”

“No, it goes deeper than that. I have three cats—they’re my brothers. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. Remember this, it’s important for the narrative. One day, I was asking Soonie what flavor of Churu he wanted, and he pointed at one of them with his paw.”

“Uh huh,” Seungmin says. Minho is… strange. Refreshing. His eyes light up when he talks about his cats, only made prettier by the reflection of raining stars in the sky.

“You don’t sound convinced. Whatever.” He sighs through his nose, a short little sound. “Only cat people would understand how life-changing that experience was.”

“What makes you think I’m not a cat person?”

Minho looks at him like it’s obvious. “You look like—that.”

Seungmin frowns. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

“Your face is just—dog-like. I can’t unsee it.”

“Dog-like?”

“Yeah. Prove me wrong.”

“I—” Seungmin sputters. He can’t, because he is a dog person.

“See? Gotcha. That’s another one of my talents.”

Minho looks entirely too smug.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re infuriating?” Despite his words, Seungmin’s heart feels light.

“Yes, but it’s the first time the comment has come from a pretty man.”

There’s no way it’s the end of the world and Minho has the audacity to flirt with him. Still, Seungmin finds himself flushing, an angry pink spreading across his cheeks.

“Christ.”

“It’s the end of the world, Kim Seungmin. I might as well shoot my shot.” Minho gets closer bumping their shoulders together. He has to tiptoe a little to hit Seungmin’s shoulder, since he’s just the slightest bit too short, but he manages. “How was it, by the way?”

“Hm?”

“My shot.”

It was a bullseye, Seungmin wants to say. Then, he remembers there’s nothing to lose, so he says as much.

“Good,” Minho says, pleased. The tips of his ears are rosy. “My hands are cold.”

“Are they? You have pockets for a reason, hyung.”

“Yah, don’t tease me, Kim Seungmin. Let’s hold hands.”

Minho was lying. His hands aren’t cold. They’re soft, and small, and warm. Seungmin holds onto him like a lifeline.

Before them, the stars start falling more heavily. They don’t have much time left

“Minho-hyung?” He swallows, a sudden lump in his throat.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I want to die.” Seungmin feels small, so very miniscule. The song he practiced earlier tonight wasn’t perfect. He was going to return to the noraebang the tomorrow, to work harder. But that’s not going to happen.

Minho hums sympathetically, then starts rubbing circles into Seungmin’s hand with his thumb. Around, and around, and around, a grounding presence.

“Better to get it over with if you’re not alone, right?”

“I suppose. Do you think it’ll hurt?”

“I hope not.” Minho shudders. “I’ll throw a fit if it does.”

Laughter bubbles out of Seungmin.

“I’m serious! First I’m dying, and now it’s got to hurt? That’s a terrible deal.”

“You’re the type to pick a fight with the cosmos.”

“I’d win, too.” Minho grunts, as if it’s unbelievable that Seungmin would even doubt him. “But I have to gain the motivation to, first. I’m usually really lazy.”

Seungmin has a feeling he’s just saying that.

“You’d do it for your cats’ honor?”

“Of course.” Minho’s squinting slightly, the brightness of the stars starting to affect him. Seungmin’s sure he looks the same.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

A pause.

The first star reaches the ground, about fifty feet from where they’re standing. Both men flinch.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho says, his voice softer, their shoulders touching once again. “It’s an honor to die with you.”

Seungmin laces their fingers together, making sure each one is interlocked, squeezing as tight as he can. The stars are falling faster, like thick droplets. Unlike rain, they don’t bring joy with them. No childlike laughter, only an impending sense of doom.

“Let’s find each other in our next lives.” He meets Minho’s gaze, his eyes barely open, half from smiling and half from the growing bright light.

“Sure. Now close your eyes, Seungmin-ah. Wouldn’t want you to die with eye strain, all squinty like that. You’ll look ugly.”

Seungmin finds it easy to laugh.

Then, he shuts his eyes.

[solarfyn]

author's note

i honestly don't even know how to get into this... lskdflskdfl alright

hiii i'm sol and this is my favorite fic i wrote in 2024, so i wanted to talk a little bit about my writing process! we'll see if this becomes a series...

hotel california is a really short one at 2.3k words. it's definitely the furthest i've stepped from my comfort zone. major character death, heavy angst, and hyuninho were all tags that seemed extremely daunting as i never venture into them as a reader, so i was surprised (and proud!) with myself when i was able to crank this fic out in a day.

it was a gift for my dear mila (disturbedreams on ao3) (hyuninho Pioneer)

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

it started with me spamming both a google doc lovingly named "dump" and also my Very Secret discord server where i am the Sole member.

at first (not shown), i wanted to let minho and jeongin arrive at "hotel california". it was going to be a horror-ish, magical realism-ish fic where hotel california is Actually a place that exists. the original outline looked something like this:

minhyang go to hotel california, turns out it's just as they imagined, but the hotel is slightly different for each of them. minho brushes it off as sleep deprivation, but jeongin (who was napping the whole car ride) convinces him to start exploring the hotel. it's strangely empty, and minho can't shake the nagging feeling in his head that something's not quite right. as the night goes on, the hotel feels more sinister, like it's trying to trap them, like it's Sentient. when the sun comes up, it kills them.

but then i thought. wait. it wasn't Their dream to go to hotel california, it was hyunjin's. so the Vision shifted once again. i realized i wasn't equipped enough to write a horror fic, so instead of making the fic scary and Strange, i wanted to make it hurt.

from the beginning of the writing process, i knew that everyone was going to die. even though hyunjin isn't in the fic at all (only in flashbacks), i wanted to find a way to write the fic so that it was surrounding him and his death. if i let the hotel kill minhyang, then it would make the Hotel the focus of the fic, not hyunjin.

and so i reworked it. it was up to the reader's interpretation as to what hotel california Really Was, but for me, it wasn't a real place, it was Death.

when hotel california plays on the radio towards the end of the fic, it's an omen of death, and the only connection minhyang have left of hyunjin.

Hotel California eventually became a code word. An inside joke. Where are you going this winter? Jeongin asked right before break. And Hyunjin said, Hotel California. Where’s your next class? Hyunjin asked Minho a month later, who, of course, said Hotel California with a cheeky grin.

it's up to the reader to decide if hyunjin and minho were suicidal or not, i didn't make it explicitly told. i added this flasback as an introduction for the song, why they like it, etc. while also forming hyunjin as a character. it's difficult to humanize a character when they're dead as the fic starts, and i had a wonderful time trying to write who hyunjin was, even when he's not present.

jeongin is an interesting character. there isn't a moment in this fic where he interacts with hotel california without minho or hyunjin prompting him. exhibit b:

A week after the funeral, Minho knocked on Jeongin’s door. Pack a bag, he said simply, holding up a duffel of his own. Jeongin had stared at him for a couple seconds, eyes as dead as his, before his face morphed into something like confusion. Where— Hotel California. We’re going. Or, I’m going. Are you? Within fifteen minutes, they were on the road westwards. Jeongin didn’t even question it. Didn’t even have the energy to tell Minho that Hotel California didn’t exist.

hyunjin answers jeongin's question with hotel california in the flashback. minho does the same in the present, and at the end of the fic, accidentally (?) kills them both in the process.

so is hotel california a escape in paradise, or is it death? or perhaps both???

that's Really what i wanted the reader to think about. i'm not sure if i executed it correctly, but i tried to make minho and jeongin's death beautiful, as a contrast to hyunjin's. in the fic, we only get to see minho discovering hyunjin's already-cold body. it's been hours. it's clinical, it's a bit liminal and not quite right. i really wanted to emphasize how minho (alive) was hot and red and messy with tears, while hyunjin (dead) was cold and blue and clean.

anyway, back to minhyang's death.

When Minho was in high school, he learned about the stars. They burn by fusing hydrogen into helium. The bigger the star, the higher core temperature. Therefore, large stars use up the hydrogen faster, and die out faster. The biggest stars turn into supernovas and explode upon death—they affect everything around them. Minho doesn’t know when the red tail lights turned into the white headlights in front of him. It looks like there’s a supernova in front of him—shining and flooding his eyes as it gets bigger and bigger. How interesting. How strange. Jeongin’s breathing has leveled out once again, which means Minho’s alone, facing this star that burns so brilliantly. His grip on the wheel falters. The star spreads its wings, flooding the car and Minho’s vision with such luminosity. It hurts, but Minho can’t seem to close his eyes. The brightness—it reminds him of something. Of someone. It’s just like Hyunjin.

both the starting and ending paragraphs of the fic surround hyunjin. he's the reason for everything that happens in this fic.

at this point, minho is extremely tired from grieving and driving, and is literally falling asleep at the wheel, which causes his and jeongin's death. i wanted to make sure jeongin was asleep when he passes (he doesn't feel any pain), and minho's not quite mentally present, so he doesn't as well.

people always talk about the "light at the end of the tunnel" when they talk about death, so i wanted to take that cliche theme and make it a little it more abstract. a little bit more artistic, since hyunjin is an artist at heart in every universe, and of course it rubbed off on minho and jeongin.

the red tail lights turning into white headlights was the moment when minho veers into the opposite lane, and he ends up in a head-on collision with a truck (which is why the "star" was so bright and big, as opposed to a regular car's lights)

minho talks about the stars and supernovas he learned about in high school, and implicitly compares hyunjin to a supernova. he's not talking about himself when he's about to die, he's thinking about seeing hyunjin in everything beautiful.

okay PHEW!!!! i'm done hehehe as you can see i'm really proud of this fic--so much that i'm honestly not concerned about the statistics? which is a crazy statement coming from me because ya girl loves statistics and numbers. if you read this far, thank you!!! so much love and i may write more of these. we'll see. no promises <3

[solarfyn]

⭑ chan pov, platonic ot8

⭑ mature

⭑ 3.5k words

⭑ READ TAGS!!!! dead dove, murder, character study, unreliable narrator, found family turned dark, nonspecific au

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/62243194

[solarfyn]

return of the arctic fox warrior

minsung

teen & up

900 words

bluesung, canon-comp, crack treated seriously

also available on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61640170

“Oh shit.” Jisung hasn’t had colored hair for years. Last time had been what—when he was freshly eighteen? God, he hasn’t had to think about this for ages! It completely slipped his mind and he’s fucked up, majorly. He looks down in horror at the white towel. Well, previously white towel. It’s got a huge, dark blue stain in the middle of it now, roughly the size of his head.

“Oh shit.”

Jisung hasn’t had colored hair for years. Last time had been what—when he was freshly eighteen? God, he hasn’t had to think about this for ages! It completely slipped his mind and he’s fucked up, majorly.

He looks down in horror at the white towel. Well, previously white towel. It’s got a huge, dark blue stain in the middle of it now, roughly the size of his head.

He can’t believe he forgot about being a teenager and complaining every time he had to dry his dyed hair with a dark t-shirt rather than a soft towel—or when Hyunjin had his long red hair during the summer. He had underestimated how hot it was, sweated in his sleep, and found himself in a bed that looked like a murder scene.

Using a white towel with wet, bright blue hair is a rookie’s mistake. 

“Fuck,” he hisses as rushes to pump at least half a bottle of soap onto the towel. It’s not too late—he can still save it! If this doesn’t work, they still have some stain removers or something—

Jisung scrubs and scrubs and scrubs all while he’s butt-naked in the bathroom, his hair still dripping blue onto the floor.

No luck. There’s still a horrendous blue spot. And—oh man—does it look bigger now? Did he fuck up even more somehow?

Jisung heaves for breath—scrubbing takes a lot of energy. Then he wails as quietly as he can. Those towels were expensive! And he picked them out with Minho—they were custom-made with embroidered cat paws in the corner of each one.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Jagi? Are you okay?”

Jisung’s eyes go wide. He clears his throat, then scrambles to lock the door.

“Fine! I’m fine!”

The handle jiggles. Jisung can see Minho’s shadow peeking out from the crack underneath the door.

“Hey, why’d you lock the door?”

Jisung panics. “I’m jerking off!”

There are several benefits to being Han Jisung. For one, lyrics flow out of his mouth like it’s nothing—his brain moves quickly and his mouth moves quicker. Which can often lead to drawbacks like these. Sometimes Jisung says the first thing that pops into his head. And he gets himself into situations.

Minho’s shadow starts shifting from side to side. “Oh, let me in! I wanna see.”

“You can’t—because—it’s really unsexy. I’m trying a new—technique?”

“I can help.”

Unfortunately, Jisung’s stomach swoops a little.

No, he has to stay focused!

“Fine—I’m not jerking off!”

MInho’s shadow stops moving. Jisung’s sure that if he was to open the door right this second, he’d be met with Minho, his arms folded and wearing a disappointed pout.

Jisung side-eyes his towel, now wet and soapy, drooping sadly over the edge of the sink. “If I let you in, you have to promise not to get mad, okay?”

“Did you kill someone? Do I have to hide a body?”

“What is wrong with you—why’s that your first thought?” Jisung sputters.

“I support everything you do, jagi. Now did you kill someone?”

“No! You still have to promise you won’t be mad, though.”

“Okay, I won’t be mad. Let me in.”

“I’m naked!”

A pause. “Jisung, I just saw you like an hour ago. Naked. In the bed.”

Fuck. Minho’s got a point there. 

“Okay, just—close your eyes. It’s bad.” Jisung unlocks the door gingerly, then opens it. 

Minho shuffles forward, one hand over his eyes, and the other waving around wildly in front of him. He slaps Jisung’s chest a couple times to make sure he’s there, giving one of his pecs a hearty squeeze.

Underneath his hand, Minho grins.

“Can I open my eyes?”

Jisung bites his lip. “Okay, yeah.”

Minho drops the hand from his eyes, then looks around, frowning. “I don’t see—” he starts before his gaze drops on the towel in the sink. 

Minho’s eyes flick towards Jisung and his dripping hair, then towards the sink, then at the floor where there are droplets of blue following Jisung around.

Then, he starts giggling.

“Wait—this is what you did? Jisung, I thought you broke the mirror or something.”

“I ruined our towel!” Jisung wails. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just—I forgot my hair was dyed, and it’s been years since I last got it colored, and so I wasn’t—”

Minho grabs him by the chin and smacks a kiss on his lips.

“You’re so cute.”

“The towel—”

“We can replace that, it’s fine. We can replace anything you stain. My little blueberry.” Minho bites him on the cheek, then on the neck. “Hey, but while you’re naked—”

Jisung groans. “I’m not showering again, you monster.”

“What about shower sex?” Minho says, all giddy. He’s starting to nip at Jisung’s collarbones like the freak he is. “You don’t even have to do anything. And hey, now that you’ve stained one towel, you can just keep using it! Look at that, a win-win.”

Jisung is so lucky that Minho’s a logical person. He’s making so much sense.

“Yeah, okay. Shower sex.”

Minho whispers a little fuck yeah into Jisung’s neck, then promptly lifts him up to deposit him back in the shower. 

[solarfyn]

heavy lies the crown

⟡ hyewon

⟡ rated g

⟡ 5k words

⟡ ambiguous relationship, hopeful ending, escape from eden, loonaverse canon-comp

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/60803164