#I have ONE THING to do to be DONE with my senior thesis short film | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crushzone · 4 years

Note

Hello my lovely your smut is god tier💞. Could i request a cheeky threesome between ennoshita and akaashi (seeing as they are both next gen captains😘). Reader is a bit of a switch. Thank you and enjoy your day.

Blue Petals ❀ Part 1 (NSFW) -Haikyuu!!-

Character: Ennoshita Chikara x Fem!Reader x Akaashi Keiji

Summary: The pressure of bidding good bye becomes immense, as a manga artist, her editor (Akaashi), and her roommate (Ennoshita), reflects on the nature of their relationship and what they want out of it after their second to last weekly meeting at her apartment.

Word Count: 7,842

Contents: Love triangle, time skip characters, mutual pining (every character is attracted to one another), steamy make out session, slow burn.

Additional Notes:

Carla, I know you didn’t ask for all this love triangle part 1 for this fic, but I can’t help it omg. I promise you, you WILL get ALL the steamy threesome smut action in part 2 haha. 😏

It should be up sometime soon, I’ve already written it, just needs proofreading. The navigation to part 2 will appear with a clickable link when it is up. 👍🏻

Blue Petals, is drawn from my senior thesis short film title that I had to make for my Film major. However, the plot for the short had nothing to do with the one that I came up for Y/n’s manga, I simply drew the name from it.

>>> PART TWO

Please do not repost my work ✨

Characters are aged up.

Water…running through my fingers —This must be the way she felt when it skids down her bare back.

He wishes he can shape shift — to become one with this water and caress your smooth skin with his warm droplets.

Ennoshita leans against the sink, turning the faucet off as he absentmindedly shake his hands mid air, springing droplets off the tip of his digits, as if he’s loosely attempting to rid his fascination of you.

This is wrong. It’s going to complicate things. Just…Irrational.

His large hands brace the corner of your shared marbled counter, mind refusing to shut off as it rebels, sprinting a thousand miles a minute in the direction he is desperately trying avoid.

The drip from the faucet casts a constant rhythm to the, otherwise, silent apartment. He mentally curses as he brings his dampened hand to rotate the knob, droplets growing fainter as it cease.

He loves his job, he really does, and he excels at being a physical therapist. The amount of hours he’s put into acquiring this job, the efforts he put into remembering his patient’s names, and the smile he puts on to encourage them to stay strong, really pays off in the end.

However, today, every second when he was not tending to his patient, and when he was alone in the sea of hustling scrubs, his mind betrayed him; the image of you walking out of the restroom at 5 AM, this morning, in just your soaked towel. The way the droplets on your naked shoulders glisten under the faint kiss of tungsten that peaks from your bedroom, like gold dragon scales, so majestic yet delicate.

He had just tumbled out of his room, half asleep, in just boxers and black t-shirt. His eyes immediately widen when it met yours, a suppressed squeal escapes your throat, as you fumble with the top of your plushy towel.

However, that didn’t help because by hastily pulling it further up your Décolleté, only revealed your other round asset that peaks from the bottom hem.

“I’m so sorry!” You both muster in great embarrassment, as footsteps spiral down opposite ends of the corridor. When the doors slammed with a bang, Ennoshita slid to the ground with a hand over his heated face.

Oh boy.

This was not his first encounter either, from years of high school together and 2 years of being your roommate, he’s well aware of your clumsiness. But that also makes you so painfully endearing.

Now, back to the sink where he hovers, steadying his breaths as he could feel his member push the sturdy fabric of his trousers taut.

This can’t be happening right now, in a few minutes, you’re going to walk through the door and se-

Click.

His rhythmic breaths hitch when he could hear the click of the lock, and the twist of the knob.

“Chikaraaaa-kun, I’m home! I brought you your favorite pineapple pecan cake from the bakery nearby.” You bump the door open with your hip as you clumsily shuffle through the entrance, arms bracing stack of folders and a laptop. Then you shut the door with your elbow, bumping your hip against the wooden fixture as you rotate the lock.

The fear of getting caught mid-boner should’ve given him the fuel to suppress it, but oddly, it only worsens when he sees you, standing there so effortlessly beautiful and ridiculously oblivious to his fascination of you.

“Thank you, Y/n-san!” He responds, turning his head to offer you a smile while his hips remain glued to the cool sink. “I cooked us some dinner, it’s all in the fridge. I barely saw you this week, so I don’t mind waiting to eat mine after your meeting with Akaashi.”

You were already in the middle of preparing for the meeting with your manga editor, eagerly spreading your portfolios all over the dining table, and clearing any other unnecessary decorations to make room.

“That is so thoughtful, thank you so much! I appreciate ya.” You turn to him with a wide smile, ignoring the warmth that cradles your cheeks.

He makes you so happy, so very happy.

There had always been something that draws you to him, even from the first day he’d introduced himself at Karasuno.

The way his voice is as warm as a cup of hot cocoa, and his gentle eyes scan your face with the most genuine smile. He reminds you of the comfort and warmth of a sweater, a piece of homeliness you get to bring with you, even when you are somewhere unexplored and cold. He’s always had your back at times when you feel like flopping, and likewise, when you would cradle him in your embrace as he falls into quiet tears at moments when he’d undermine himself of his capabilities.

Chikara is a warm sense of familiarity, a sunrise that promises a new day, the fragrance of trustworthiness that you are incredibly drunken on. Every night when you would bid each other sweet dreams, there would always be a subtle moment of hesitation before soft footsteps saunter across the corridor to your respective rooms. When the doors shut, you always curse at the way your feet rebel, how it tear your chances to run the opposite direction and into his arms nightly.

Because he is your roommate. And that would be complicated.

A rational portion in your mind whispers, shining a lone beam of light through your fog of infatuation, as you will your gaze away from his chocolate orbs.

Your admiration for Ennoshita had far exceeded friendship, even before you’ve decided to move in together as roommates. Till this day, you wonder why you were the one to insist on rooming if you knew you had always been in love. Perhaps his homeliness made you wonder what it would be like to come back to his gentle smile after work, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to let go of your muse.

And then there’s Akaashi…If Ennoshita reminds you of the the warm sun, Akaashi is the calmness of the ocean. The cooling sea breeze that kisses your skin with a gentle mist from dancing tides.

At the thought of him, a series of gentle knocks on the door snaps the tension from the air as you scurry to open it.

Meanwhile, Ennoshita remains by the counter, mentally crafting an escape as the thought of seeing Akaashi’s cooling eyes would only worsen his predicament. Using his quick wit, he takes advantage of the commotion to spring himself from the counter, speed-walking across the dining room, then up the stairs.

“I’ll leave you guys to it!” He says cheerily, when he’s already halfway up.

Akaashi had just stepped in and is removing his shoes as you close the door. “Oh, okay! I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

“You don’t have to lea-“ He begins, but is cut short when Ennoshita quickly waves at him.

“Hi Akaashi-san, please make yourself at home.” He says, before immediately disappearing behind his bedroom door.

Had our weekly meetings been inconvenient for him this whole time? If so, maybe the next should be held elsewhere. Akaashi wonders, a little concerned at his strange behavior as he absentmindedly readjusts the small paper bag on his wrist.

“Is he okay?”

“I think so?” But truthfully, you’re not convinced that he is. “He probably just wanted some time alone.” You revise, walking him to the dining table.

“Oh, I brought you and Ennoshita-san some Yaki Tomorokoshi by the way.” He waves the bag gently, its cotton strings left the faintest mark on his slim wrist.

“Akaashi-kun! You really didn’t have to.” You can’t help but smile, grateful that the people in your life had been so kind and thoughtful. “If you’re up for it, maybe we can all watch a movie later so we can enjoy the dinner that Ennoshita-kun cooked, your Yaki Tomorokoshi, and the pineapple pecan cake I bought!”

A soft smile graces his lips as his hooded eyes linger on the wooden ground, a little too shy to meet yours. “That would be nice.”

And you beam at his response, finding warmth radiate your heart as your scalp tingles, nearly exploding at how precious you thought his little smile was.

What started off as a distraction from Ennoshita, only worsened when you and Akaashi grew closer through your line of work. He was there with you from the first chapter of your manga, where you’d meet up weekly to discuss revisions. Your meetings usually take place at restaurants, and you find yourself lingering after, ordering some extra sake and Daifuku as you spend the final hours of the night, chatting

He seats himself in his usual spot across from you, and you do the same after you’ve placed his grilled corn in the fridge, next to your dessert and Ennoshita’s cooking.

His quiet demeanor, professionalism, and calculating eyes were intimidating. but they gradually grow on you overtime, when you learn that he is just as shy as you are, and is also prone to occasional clumsiness as well. It’s really endearing.

One day, as you two were waiting for your checks to return, he’d asked about your manga’s source of inspiration, reasoning that he’d also been in search for his own, so he can write his short novel.

So with some hesitance, you described Ennoshita to him, without the mention of his name, and it got him very fascinated.

“Is this person, who inspired your protagonist, around? I’d love to meet him one day.”

It felt strange, describing your deep-rooted fondness for your crush to the other, but you also felt embraced, both by the thought of Chikara and by Akaashi’s undivided attention for you.

“He is, he’s actually my roommate.” You responded, nervously, taking a sip of your warm water as you try to drown the sudden flutter of nervousness with it.

His brow raised slightly, as he leaned on his palm, never dropping the gentle smile that adorned his soft looking lips.

“I’d love to meet him one day. What’s his name?”

“Ennoshita. Ennoshita Chikara.” Your eyes brightened at the mention of your friend’s name, forgetting for a second that you were talking to Akaashi. But when you linked your gaze to his dusty green orbs, your brows quirked when you realized his smile had widened.

“Oh. I know him.”

Since that day, you began offering your apartment for meetings, and it’s been that way for over two years now. Initially, Ennoshita would lock himself in his room to give you and Akaashi some privacy, but when you both assure that his company is welcomed; after all this is his apartment too, he eased up and fell into the routine of reading a book on the couch, while you work quietly at the dining table behind it.

However, you notice he had been distant lately, and you wonder if it had to do with you spending more time with Akaashi.

Ennoshita is on his bed, head spinning in a cocktail of thoughts. His fingers lightly graze the expanse of his exposed abs as he sighs, pulling his shirt back down and firmly lacing his hands over it.

That was a close one.

He’s lost track of time, it felt like hours since he’d locked himself in his room, taking steady breaths as he slowly glided his fingers over his sensitive skin, a desperate simulation of skin ship, to slowly suppress the urge of pleasuring himself to the thought of you and Akaashi. It was a rough battle as his mind constantly alternates between what it must feel like to plant gentle kisses to your soft skin, then to his calloused hands firmly running across the terrain of Akaashi’s sculpted body. Both souls so beautiful, yet so different in physique.

But what he yearns is beyond physical, he’s known you like the back of his hand, and your presence comforts him. You are like flowers in spring, the sweet smell of honey nectar, and your smile is the reason cloud dances to the wind under the warm presence of the tangerine sun.

He smiles in admiration of your diligence, when he would walk out of his room for water, in the middle of the night, to see you curled up by the dining table, your blue mechanical pencil in hand as you scribbled away at your manga panels. The paper lantern above you casted a cocoon of soft light that protected you from the darkness, and for a moment, it felt like he was watching you under the inky sea, and you are a mythical creature that emitted light.

He truly misses his days in Karasuno, when you would meet him after his practice to bounce story ideas for your manga, underneath the sunset’s performance, sitting side by side on the roof of an academic building.

“Oh!! Maybe Imogen and Habiki grew up in a rural area together, Habiki’s parents run a bakery shop while Imogen’s family owns an alteration store.” You say, waving your voice recorder in excitement, making sure it’s still going.

“I like that! Maybe there’s something special about this rural area. A noteworthy wonder that Habiki would instantly be reminded of when Imogen writes him letters while he is in war.” Ennoshita added, leaning back on his hands as he looked up to the sky in thought.

Screenwriting and storytelling had always interested him, and brainstorming with you inspired him to make his own films one day, maybe after your manga is done, so you can keep staring at the sun while daydreaming together.

You mimicked his stance, but instead of looking to the sky, your gaze shifted to him with a content smile. He is so beautiful: his gentle gaze unwavering as his mellow orbs embraced the splashes of pinkish hue in its glimmer, and the small smile that grazed his lips are kissed by the reflection of the fiery sky. For once, you wished you could turn into the sun, just so you can envelope his smooth skin with your warmth.

Then you were struck with an idea.

“What if…” You began, “What if there are these blue flowers that could only be grown in that area, and Imogen would always harvest and send pressed blue flowers to Habiki. He would then decorate his journal with it, sometimes even using it as a bookmark until it no longer hold its shape. It would remind him of the times when he would sit next to her, after work at his parent’s bakery, in the middle of the blue flower field, just watching sunset draw its curtains. ”

He spent a moment, allowing your imagination to sink in. Sometimes he wishes he could be your Habiki and you could be his Imogen.

You felt warmth blossom your cheeks, unsure if that was from the sun or if it was from embarrassment that you may have potentially given away the fact that Ennoshita had been your inspiration for Habiki all along.

“I like that a lot. Have you ever thought about how you’re going to end your manga? A striking image that summarizes Habiki’s long journey through war and the struggles he went through to try to find his way back home?”

Then your gaze faltered from the sky, as you looked down to your dirty shoes, subsequently tucking your chin between the basin of your knees. “No…I don’t know. All this time, I may have just been day dreaming. I don’t know if I have the talent to-“

“Y/n-san…” His tone grew serious, drawing your eyes to meet his. “There was never a moment when I’ve doubted your talent, and you shouldn’t either. I know this is something you’ve always wanted to do; to make your manga, and if it is truly what you want, I genuinely think you should pursue it.” He reached over to place a firm hand on your shoulder. “And I know starting something from scratch can be scary, but I am here for you.”

“What if no one even bothers to read it?” You sighed, turning away with a frown.

“Then I’m going to buy all 10, no 100, more like 1,000 copies of your manga and read it over and over again.” He chuckled warmheartedly. A strange flutter in your gut, slowly ascended your body at his laugh. “So what if it is a fail, you poured your heart into it, and in the end, you can come out of it knowing that you gave it your best. As long as you never give up and stick with it, even when it feels like the world is against you, is a success in its own.”

Your lips transformed into the largest smile, brows twitching in an attempt to hold back happy tears. He studied you, gaze darting between your lips and glassy eyes, breath hitched as he lost control of his body, slowly leaning towards your awaiting lips. You find yourself doing the same, your beating heart screamed to be free, to follow its will.

However…

“Chikara-kun.” You breathed, verbally forcing yourself to stop, and he did the same. “If we ever end up in the same area after university…will you be my roommate?”

He sat back up, and after a moment, he blinked away his rejection as he lifted his gaze from the concrete floor to your nervous expression with a soft smile. “Of course.”

And just like that, the sun had fully set, raven wings consumed any remaining sprinkle of flames and embers from the sky.

Does she still have the voice recording from that day? Did his facade falter when he said yes to being your roommate? If only he could have some of that audio to relive his memory with.

Like a torch that had been passed on, you no longer come to him for ideas on your manga as often as you did, instead, you would do so with Akaashi. He’s not upset, but simply nostalgic for those special moments he had with you, if anything, he’s more than happy you’ve come this far. Your manga had been selling prolifically with the help of your publisher, and is now a chapter away from being complete.

This meeting that you are having with Akaashi would probably be one of the last few chances he’d get to see him.

He chuckles under his breath, what a small world.

Though he’s never been very close with Fukurodani’s setter, he’s well aware of his existence since training camp at Saitama. The way he was able to maintain his calm demeanor, regardless of how emotional his best friend, Bokuto may be, is very noteworthy. He’d sneak glances at him during lunch and every time they walked by one another in the dorm hallway or during their tournaments, their eyes would automatically lock, followed by a small nod; a silent gesture of acknowledgement, mutual respect, and…admiration?

There’s something irresistibly charming about Akaashi that he could not put a finger on, and it doesn’t help that he only got to view him from a distance.

He’d hooked up with a few women during his time in university, especially on nights when he’s desperately touch starved for you, but he never thought he’d be into men. When he’d met Akaashi, perspective widened, gender and preferences are no longer black and white, as it became fluid, like a string of yarn, dancing care freely in the wind. His charm is beyond gender, it is his own.

However, he’d never thought too much about it because the opportunity to grow closer were slim, training being hectic and all. Until recently, when you would bring him here for weekly meetings.

What started with small glances when he’d enter and politely remove his shoes, perfectly lining it in parallel to the edge of the mud carpet, to the way he looks at you in fascination, leaning on his palm with a soft smile as you ramble vibrantly about your narrative ideas.

He’s not upset, not one bit, if anything, it’s comforting to know someone finds you as special as he does. Someone who could care for you when he couldn’t be there right away. It’s a confusing mix of attraction: your familiar comfort and warmth, like freshly done laundry, so warm and comfy to lay on, versus his exciting, serene, and unexplored presence, like the sweet smell of petrichor as he bikes by a rice field after it’d rained; both equally as attractive and inviting.

Then his phone lights up beside him, intervening his train of thought.

Y/n ☀️ [20:28]

We’re all good!! Ready for din din whenever you are 🐷

He chuckles softly at the endearing way you text.

Chikara [20:28]

Be out in a sec! :)

Then he sets his phone down, takes a deep breath, and palms his bulging member. Quickly realizing:

I guess I’m going to need more than a second…

You shut your folder with a sigh, drawing both knees to your chest, and leaning it against the table, clearly comfortable under his presence to allow your antics to slip. “Thanks again, for coming over, Akaashi. I can’t believe we’re a meeting away from ending this manga, where’d the time go.”

He nods, discreetly fiddling his fingers under the desk while maintaining a calm expression.

“Yeah.” It was all he could say, fearful that his calm facade may slip.

What now, is this it? Should he say farewell next time? Or should he treat it like other meetings, with the excitement to see each other again. Are we more than just acquaintances? Would it be strange if he asks you and Ennoshita to spend more time with him outside work?

Frankly, this had been a reality he never wanted to accept; that the next meeting will potentially be the last time he’ll get to work with you. The industry is so fast moving, he already has another job lined up for the next manga he’ll be editing, and it will be over 50 volumes long, which meant that even if you were to come up with another, he might not even be available for it.

For a moment, the apartment is unusually still, a stark contrast to the lively meeting that had just ended. Silence weighs heavily, but you allow it to sink, too bummed to fight it off. So you’re surprised when Akaashi attempts to dissipate it.

“Have you thought about the ending?”

Your brows furrow, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat, thinking back to the boy who began it all, under the warm presence of the setting sun. “Maybe, I have some ideas…”

You hate being nostalgic, but you realize you no longer designate a time to brainstorm and chat with Chikara, sadly wondering if he’s bothered by it; having Akaashi swoop in and take that away from him. No…he’s always been someone who’d go out of his way to help a stranger without expecting anything in return, he’s probably happy that you’ve come as far as you had.

“That’s okay.” Lifting your chin to the sound of his voice, soaring conflict in your mind calms to the sight of his timid smile. “You have some time, hopefully you’ll find something that really inspire your ending. Whatever it is, you have an amazing sense of judgement and I am sure it will be absolutely stunning.” His fiddling worsens, as he hope he had not come off too strong; he just wanted to express his believe in you.

And just like that, his comforting tide washes over your heated shore, soothing the stretch of searing rocks with its cool rhythmic ascension, like the rise and fall of a chest. Your furrowed brows relax and the lump in your throat dissolves, you feel fluid, like fine sand that slips through your fingers and on to bare feet in shy splatters.

With a smile, you respond with a nod. “Thank you, Akaashi.”

Standing up suddenly, before silence could re-materialize, you saunter to the kitchen, turning over your shoulder to smile at his confused expression. “I’m going to start heating up our food, Ennoshita-kun should be out anytime soon.”

He stands and follows you, socked footsteps barely making any sound on the wooden floor as he walks. “I can help.” You hum happily in response as you hand him one of the food containers to heat up.

Punching in the digits to your microwave, he leans against the counter as he watches you rummage through the fridge, occasionally rising to set containers on the marbled surface before kneeling back down to grab more.

Weekly meetings with you had meant so much more to him than he had anticipated, it was the first time he’d ever allowed editing sessions to be as untraditional as it had been; usually only keeping it to offices or restaurants, never at residences. However, your passion and genuine personality made it so easy for him to come out of his shell and converse more openly.

Every night when he’d return home from seeing you, he’d spend countless hours by the balcony, looking to the sparkling stars that scatter the sky like freckles, serenaded by wandering crickets and shy fireflies, with a notebook in hand. He lists the wonderful things he’d noticed about you and Ennoshita, and scribble short poems that he is a little too embarrassed to admit it is one. But just like your passion for drawing and Ennoshita’s interests in making short films in his spare time, writing is his way of encapsulating memory, to tell his own story.

Truthfully, he’s always wanted to work for a literature publication, but he can’t thank fate enough for introducing you and Ennoshita to him through this current job. His passion for literature had been adamant since he was in his adolescence, constantly blabbering attempted eloquence to his parents. As he’s gotten older, a small tree of fear roots his heart, afraid he would never find inspiration to write.

Until recently, that fear had subsided, as he would return from your meeting with a smile, eager to glide his fountain pen on the clean, stark pages of his dark blue leather journal, a present from you on his 24th birthday.

Once all the food had been heated and brought out to the coffee table in front of your small couch, Ennoshita finally emerges from his bedroom in a pair of grey sweatpants. “Sorry I took a while!” He smiles apologetically as he descends the stairs.

“No worries!! Dinner looks amazing, thank you for making it!” You respond, miming a chef kiss gesture at the food in front of you with a bright smile.

Ennoshita stops mid step, brows raised at your sudden burst of energy, slowly settling on a wide smile that gleams through his half lidded eyes. “Of course, Y/n-san. I hope there’s enough for the three of us.”

“I know I’m an unexpected addition, but thank you for letting me have some of your delicious cooking.” Akaashi’s eyes meet Ennoshita’s warm ones for a second, before it falters to the ground. His cheeks warm, and his expression may appear calm, but his fiddling fingers say otherwise.

Ennoshita’s eyes widen, suddenly feeling the urge to explode from the warmth that surfaces his subtly puffed chest. “I’m…I’m happy you enjoy them”.

“Akaashi-kun also brought some Yaki Tomorokoshi, so I think between your food, that, and my cake, we should be pretty good.” You add, hopping on to the center of the couch and bringing your knees to rest against your chest as you look to them, a remote in hand. “Would you be down for The Handmaiden by Park Chan-wook?” (This movie is so good omg, HIGHLY recommend watching it.)

They nod simultaneously, feeling the sofa dip significantly as they wordlessly join you on the couch, Ennoshita to your left and and Akaashi to your right. You giggle at how huge the two of them are in contrast to the tiny loveseat, turning around to unfold the fleece blanket and casting it over the three of you like a bird spreading its wings.

“We’re going to get food on the blanket!” Ennoshita jokes, folding the soft material so it only covers his back. You laugh, knowing full well that he would say that, but you did it anyway.

Meanwhile, Akaashi bundles the front of his blanket around him like a half burrito, silently reaching over for his Yaki Tomorokoshi, and holding it with both hands as he eats, eyes watching you and Ennoshita comfortably: This feels like home, under both your warm presence, and he cannot express his gratitude to finally meet someone that makes him so content.

Halfway through the movie, with all your empty dishes in the sink, the three of you are bundled under the same plushy blanket as the plot grows darker and darker with twists you’d never expect. You can’t help but dig your curled toes a little deeper into the cushion, while Ennoshita shifts toward the edge of his seat, as Akaashi leans further back, head resting against the back cushion. Three set of eyes, trained firmly to the illuminating screen with great intensity.

Then out of nowhere, you are hit with one of the hottest and most beautifully shot sex scenes you’ve ever seen. (Yea, like damn, it got me feeling things when I watched it 👀 If you’ve seen this movie, you know what I’m talking about.) Suddenly, the pressure to stop your eyes from diverging off screen becomes paramount, the three of you scramble to shackle your imagination before it scurries off to other lewd fantasies that extend beyond the movie.

Umm…is this where you joke about it to elevate the awkwardness? But dammit, the scene was too well done, you can’t think of anything silly to say.

You all visibly stiffen, suddenly hyper aware of the way your outer legs and shoulders touch, feeling your respective cores heat and breath hitch at the attempt to steady it. The couch suddenly feels like a bubble, frustratingly suffocating, as it confines the three of you in this tight predicament. But when you try to make yourself smaller, so your bodies are not in contact, your hands accidentally brush theirs, and you could not have pulled them away any faster than you had, mentally cursing at the way electricity courses through your skin like wildfire.

The little hand grazing accident heightened the tension, as Akaashi is no longer able to keep his quirk in check, instantly bringing clammy fingers to fiddle on his lap. Distracted by his movement, you were unaware of Ennoshita’s glance, quickly shifting back to the screen when you turn to him. Gosh, how he wishes he could at least give you a small kiss on your warm cheeks.

Gulping at how the sofa on-screen closely mimics the color of the one you are seated on, you will yourself from overthinking; it’s fine, your activities on it are as different as night and day. Totally fine…Puffing your cheeks like a goldfish, you exhale steadily, but the sound did not go unnoticed by two pair of glimpsing eyes.

In the movie, two characters kneel before one another, intoxicated in their share of yearning kisses for any care in the world. This short sequence drags on because the sexual tension in the air is as dense as hardened concrete.

Here’s the scene from the movie. I censored it out for u LOL.

You wonder…wonder how it would feel to draw them to your lips…Would they resist? Or would it shatter all this tension and bring forth clarity to the complication of your friendship. No…you shouldn’t be thinking these things, it’s wrong, so wrong, and your friendship is as clear as day…right?

But then you realize you may not be the only one with this curiosity.

If your friendship were purely platonic…what’s with the sexual tension?

The two men shift, playing it out as if they were stretching their sore muscles from poor posture, but it was actually a desperate attempt to subtly readjust their growing erections. You noticed, you totally did, and decides to take this opportunity to cross your legs tightly, relying on the soft blanket to shield your flexed inner thighs, sinfully enjoying the friction your denim offers with its thick seams.

Ennoshita’s and Akaashi’s mind are whirling as they try to come up with a solution to the potentiality of you noticing their growing members, thinking of different excuses, only to resurface with none.

Ennoshita debates if an excuse to the restroom would seem too obvious that he’s ridiculously turned on, while Akaashi wonders what Bokuto would do in this situation, since he’s always so up front and unabashed about most things. Then, by sheer accident, their eyes meet, cheeks instantly erupt in flames as they turn away non-subtly.

Is Akaashi also sporting an erection? Ennoshita wonders.

Is Ennoshita…really turned on by this too? Akaashi questions.

Meanwhile, you glance between the two, hand slowly creeping between your legs, pushing a little further into your throbbing crotch as awkwardness transform to heat.

Have you been misreading their signs? Had you been in their way this whole time? But you weren’t upset either, because the image of them, completely nude, in each other’s embrace, kneeling on the couch as their sculpted bodies merge under the soft glow of tungsten, back dimples kissed by the watchful moon, is unbearably, and ridiculously arousing.

You’re turned on by their flustered attempts at subduing their body’s natural response for sex, thankful your anatomy is not as outwardly obvious during arousal. Such gentlemen, refusing to acknowledge their mutual sexual desires.

A sudden craving for physical contact manifests as your eyes train to the television with a degree of intensity. But how should you approach this, and with who?

This is it, don’t think too hard. But were you really the one operating your thoughts? Or was it simply your mind being weary of your hesitance.

It didn’t matter, because your body had decided, hands snaking timidly outward, like a chick, spreading its wings for the first time. The stakes are so high, but you are already in the act, there’s no turning back. When your delicate fingers brush the back of their hands under the blanket, they jump at the sudden sensation of your tenderness, clearly aware that it is not a coincidence this time.

They turn to you simultaneously, lips agape and eyes widened in surprise, but you simply look between them with great curiosity, eyes so round and unintentionally coy, like a fawn meeting its pals for the first time, attempting to study their thoughts when you hesitantly hold them firmly, soft hands curling against their large palms, no longer calloused from the lack of volleyball practice.

Your lips open and shut before you stop it all together with your teeth, chewing nervously. So effortlessly alluring, like bright red rose petals, sinking and reemerging from clear water, so teasing and erratic, you just want to scoop it tenderly with both hands and draw it to your lips to still its motion. Their dark eyes are on you with a gulp, as you try to form words, but the only thing that escapes are short breathes; a cross between a sigh and desperate gasps, dying to hear some sort of response from either or them, feeling so stranded by your boldness.

And your thoughts are heard, when you feel both their large palms tighten around yours: Ennoshita’s a little clammy while Akaashi’s is shaky, but they relax you nevertheless.

“Y/n-san.”

Ennoshita breathes, cheeks incredibly warm as he mentally curses his tongue for slipping your name a little too soon. Then without a word, like the day when he was simply an eager boy trying to kiss you, he leans forward, soft eyes slowly flutter shut with every distance he crosses, relieved to see that you are also doing the same, and when you meet him in the middle, it’s as if your life had been on pause, finally discovering the courage to resume.

He smiles gently, bathing in immense satisfaction when your soft lips finally meets his plush ones in a featherlike kiss. Pressure taps at his hooded lids, tempted to burst in tears as he feels so relieved, so freaking happy to claim your lips. The kiss was so soft, like the legs of dancing butterflies, his broad chest rumbles in a low chuckle at the ticklish sensation that lingers on his smile, bringing his other hand to caress the side of your warm cheeks lovingly. He’s found closure, no longer able to imagine himself thinking back in “what ifs” to that moment, as he interlaces his long fingers with yours.

You pull apart, still drunken in disbelief that this is the same boy you went to high school with, the boy who sparked your career and had always been there for you. Then you’re suddenly overwhelmed by how much he’d grown into a man; jaws much sharper and features more defined, but the soft smiles he share with you had never changed, and that is how you know he’s still the same person you’ve fallen in love with from the very beginning.

He IS your Habiki.

But you snap back to reality when Akaashi’s palm loosens, a second away from slipping through your fingers, like a petal that had been whisked by the wind. Instead, you interlace his finger with yours, turning to look into his eyes intently. He’s caught of guard by your overwhelming attention, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow his thickened saliva from hoarding nervous breathes, heart banging frantically at the bursting blood and vessels that surrounds it.

Did he offend you? Should he leave? Her and Ennoshita are clearly meant to b-

Heat blooms in his cheeks, when you draw the back of his hand to your tender lips for permission, shattering his fragile facade as warmth flows out of his open heart like an erupted volcano, melting his entire being as he is tempted to sink further into your couch. However, his spine refuses to curl as it keeps him erect, helpless to its command like a marionette.

Should he kiss you? Is that what he wants? Or is he misreading your si-

His eyes were blank, as he never registered your face growing closer, and by the time he’d return to the present, he could feel your soft minty breath against his pointy nose, your long lashes cast a shadow over your vibrant eyes, robbing it of any glint as you look to his lips, then back up to his dilating pupils. His thoughts are cut short again when your lips brush his, testing the waves before fully submerging in his cool stretch of seawater, your lips are warm, in comparison to his cool ones, but the juxtaposition in temperature is stimulating.

You pull back a little, staring at his flustered expression that grew hungrier the longer he stares right back, you’ve stirred a tide that’s ready to draw you back with its beckoning dance. Then you’re back at it, harder this time, too drunken for each other’s magnetism to recall who was the first person to lean, as you bring the back of your entwined hand to brush at the area next to his fluttering lashes, so thick and alluring like fine owl feathers. Ennoshita watches you in fascination, thumb grazing the top of your hand; a gesture to remind you of his warm presence.

When you pull apart for breathes, Akaashi felt a surge of confidence as he sits up, green eyes drawing in Ennoshita’s brown ones, as he return his look with a blush, bringing his free hand to nervously rub away the warm tingles at his nape. Akaashi’s eyes falter timidly for a moment, before it returns with greater intensity.

No, he can’t back down, he needs to get this out in the open now.

“Ennoshita-kun…”

His eyes may appear calm, but his voice was merely a whisper that’s been thrusted into the silent atmosphere of the room, barely making it over soft mumbles from the movie that’s been long forgotten. He suddenly feels so small, like a lost kitten wailing for help, but he knows the tension had been slowly melting, and the only way to surpass this fully is by also taking initiative.

“May I kiss you too?” He asks, frankly unsure of how to initiate a kiss with someone that is not seated right beside him.

Both yours and Ennoshita’s eyes widen momentarily at his straightforwardness, before it curls into a small chuckle, finding his shyness endearing; seems like his calm demeanor was a defense mechanism to his awkwardness after all. 🥺

Was that too bold?

He was initially a little embarrassed, but is also relieved the tension in the room is close to gone.

Ennoshita brings his free hand to caress his cheek, gently drawing him over you and towards him with a smile. “I would love that, Akaashi-kun.”

And with his reassurance, they lean to one another in perfect synchronization, flushed lips colliding like the sun’s reunion with the horizon, their passion drizzling onto the water’s rippling surface in bursts of tangerines and scarlets. Someone who they thought were unattainable, no longer a reality as they hold each other firmly, hands coming up to entwine next to their moving heads, lips falling into a rhythm, as their defined jaws dance to their passion.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as your core clenches in arousal at the sight of both your crushes, sharing an intimate moment right in front of you. It is like the fantasy you’ve recently envisioned as you were watching the movie, but this is even better than what the expanse of your mind is capable of picturing. What started as separate admiration, turns out even better when you see that they had also been struggling with the concept of mutual crushing.

They pull apart, but not fully, Akaashi gently tilts his head to lovingly brush the tip of his nose against Ennoshita’s lips, still too enchanted by his warmth to leave. Ennoshita’s heart flutters at his coy gesture, inhaling shakily when Akaashi looks up to his orbs, incredibly fascinated by the way his pupils dilate, consuming steel green rings like a beating heart. Then they simultaneously turn, catching you in the act of lingering gaze as you imprint the beauty of their attraction in mind, wishing that you had your drawing pad to capture this moment on paper.

“Y/n-san…” Akaashi begins, gaze shifting sideways as he scrambles to string words that describe his feelings, however, his own understanding was never fully apparent to begin. To his relief, Ennoshita glances at him before looking back at you, finishing his sentence.

“I like you a lot, Y/n-san. I’ve always had, since Karasuno. I regret not kissing you the week before graduation…but now that I get to be here with you, as someone more than just your roommate, I want to make it clear that I’ve always liked you.” Then he turns to Akaashi.

“Akaashi-kun….I enjoy all the times you’ve spent with us, I may not know you as well as y/n does, but I’ve always been drawn to you since training camp. I like you, and I’d love to get to know you better, no longer from a distance, but right here with you.”

He looks down to your entwined fingers, arms forming a circle, this is the moment he’d always dreamt of. “I still don’t know what’s going to happen after…but I want this kiss to be a start of something, a new beginning to our relationship…if it’s what you want.”

You melt at his genuineness…He always says the right words at the right time, a great trait of a leader, and that is why you never doubted his ability as the team captain after Daichi had graduated. He can hold your hands through the wildest thunderstorm, and you’d feel like he could protect you from the inevitable temperament of nature.

“I like you a lot too, Chikara. I always had.”

“I like you too, Ennoshita-kun” Akaashi responds, eyes widening slightly when he realizes he may have accidentally cut you off, but when he turns to look at you apologetically, you just laugh it of, visibly relaxing his shoulders to the sound of your voice.

Then like a synchronized flock of starlings, you and Akaashi place gentle kisses on Ennoshita’s cheeks, eyeing each other for his consent, before slowly trailing down his defined jaws then to his long neck, now with confessions out of the way, you’re craving something more physical. He resists the urge to scrunch his shoulders, both your breaths tickling him at once, instead, he tilts his chin with shuddery breathes, allowing more room for you to explore; sensation so overwhelming but this is only just the beginning.

“I’ve never been good with words.” You breath coyly, stopping in between kisses to nibble at the bottom of his earlobe where the vertical meets horizontal, earning yourself a gasp as his body tingles. “But let me show you how much I’ve always wanted you, Chikara-kun.” He shivers at the way your voice grow softer, slowly turning to air by the time you say his name; it reminds him of the goosebumps he’d get when wind howls between the cracks of his window, a lullaby so quiet but enchanting.

Instead of responding verbally, his eyes roll to the ceiling before it flutters his shut, exhaling soft shudders as he slowly leans back on the arm rest with the guide of your hand. Meanwhile, Akaashi remains silent, but his gestures speak the opposite; he wants to express the same message through his undivided attention and touches.

Neither of you expected this moment to escalate the way it did, perhaps it was the lingering sexual tension that hung freely for years, or it may be the movie that reminded you of how touch starved you all had been, but whatever brought you here, had happened for a reason.

Because this moment, right here, right now, is where you belong.

Kisses turn to touches, and touches turns to labored breathes when Ennoshita pulls back from his heated kiss with Akaashi, wet lips looking a little bruised from passion, as Akaashi’s eyes are still heavily lidded, gaze glued on his parted lips like it’s an addiction.

Meanwhile, you trail soft kisses down Ennoshita’s neck, lingering momentarily on his bobbing Adams apple, while your other hand slowly finds its way to his crotch.

“Do you want to go to my room?”

He asks between labored breathes, nodding towards the corridor you spent years denying each other’s attraction, feeling your teasing fingers edge dangerously closer to his throbbing member, painfully pressed against the confines of his sweat pants.

>>> PART TWO

Taglist (open): @shhhlikeme @ceo-of-daichi @karasu-hoes @super-noya @nonexistent-social-life @scorpiosanssexy @tedwardos

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

918

Have a friends survey, because I’m really missing mine.

-- List 8 Friends of Either Gender --

1. Andrew 2. Jo 3. Aya 4. Gabie 5. Hannah 6. Angela 7. Laurice 8. Aliyah

Questions About These Friends

Does number 4 have a driver’s license? Yeah. I’m pretty sure we were part of the first few people in our high school batch who learned how to drive and get our licenses.

Can number 7 speak another language? Well yeah, she can speak Filipino. Everyone on the list can at least speak Filipino.

Does 2 know your parents well? Not so much. She knows the basic stuff about my parents that I tell everyone, like how my dad works abroad.

Have 3 and 5 been in the same room together? Multiple times, until Aya graduated. All three of us were in the same applicant batch in our org so we spent a loooot of time together.

Does 1 have similar music tastes to you? Broadly, yeah. I know we both like R&B and hip-hop but he’s faaaar more passionate about the genre and he’s a lot better at picking out artists and songs.

Has 6 ever stayed at your house? She’s visited a handful of times, but I prefer going to her house instead. I don’t really have a lot to offer here whereas we never run out of things to do at her place.

When did 3 last text you? If we are talking of strictly texts, November 2018. Aya was never a good replier on text lol. But my last notification of her in general was at 4 AM today, when she sent a meme to our friends’ group chat.

Does 5 have any pets? If so, what do they have? Nope. WELP I don’t know actually. She lives all the way in Bacolod so her home life doesn’t get raised much. I know she loves dogs though.

Does 7 live in the same town/city as you? Nah, she’s a south baby through and through.

Have you ever lent something important to 8? I’ve never even met her yet. We keep planning to especially since she works in Metro Manila now, but our schedules just never work out.

Can number 1 sing well? Yes. He’s done a lot of singing gigs and as far as I know he even put out an EP at one point. He has a sick stage name too.

Does 2 have any siblings? Nah, she’s an only child.

If 4 called you at 2 AM, what would your reaction be? Take it and assume she has trouble falling asleep.

Who is 8′s best friend? I’m not sure; I don’t know her all that well. I would assume it’s someone all the way in Mindanao, since that’s where she grew up and went to school and her whole life is there - she really only moved to Metro Manila for work. That’s why I feel for her sometimes and keep offering to meet up, so she can feel less lonely.

Does 6 have a favourite tv show? If so, what is it? She loooves watching TV series but I never knew what her favorite is. Good question, I’ll have to ask her this soon.

Who out of 5 and 7 knows you the best? I say they both know me on the same level but I think Laurice does slightly more. We’ve had deeper conversations, so it’s a safe guess.

Does 4 have a boyfriend/girlfriend? You are reading her answers right now. ;)

Does 2 have a career/knows what they want to be? Yes, she’s always wanted to be a journalist. She’s entering her senior year now and I’m really proud and super impressed with her for being able to keep up such a demanding, brutal passion; I was burned out from journ by freshman year. She even helps run a fact-checking website now :) It had just been a requirement in her class to come up with a fact-checking website but theirs got SO successful, racked up some awards, and now it’s still going.

Have you ever kissed 1? No. He’s like a brother to me and that just sounds like the weirdest scenario.

Does 3 have or want children? Yes. I know she wanted them when she was with Jo, but I’m not sure if she’s changed her mind lately.

Does 6 have any piercings or tattoos? Yep, on her ears.

Do your parents know 8? No. She’s an internet friend, so I never get to raise it in conversations. And I doubt they’ll be happy if they found out I made a friend on the interwebs anyway.

Which Number...

Have you had romantic feelings for? 4.

Have you told a secret to? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,7, 8. I’m pretty open with my secrets, as dumb as that sounds lol

Have you shared a bed with? 2, 3, 4, 6, 7.

Have you watched a movie with? I remember watching The Devil Wears Prada with 2 and 3. I’ve watched several movies with 4.

Have you seen cry? 2, 3, 4, 6.

Have seen you cry? 1, 4, 5. 5 hasn’t seen me cry but she has definitely heard me.

Have cooked you something? 6 and 7 :) They’re also the biggest mom friends on the list, so I’m not surprised.

Have a boyfriend/girlfriend? 1, 4, 6. I’m not sure if 2 and 3 are still together; we never get to update each other anymore. Have met your parents? 2, 3, 7 from a meeting we once held at my house. And 4 and 6, of course - they’re my mom’s favorites.

Have been to the same school/college as you? Everyone except 8.

About Number One What age are they? He turned 22 in June.

Have you met their parents? Never. He can’t give less of a shit about his dad so I don’t care for him, though. I know he’s super protective of his mom.

Have you ever been in a relationship with them? Not at all. He wouldn’t be my type, and like I said he’s a brother to me more than anything else.

Do they like most of your other friends? We mostly have mutual friends, so. I know he likes my best frieinds though - he was even the one who reminded me about putting Angela on my thesis acknowledgments.

How often do you two meet up and/or talk? Back in school we used to see each other around 1-2 days a week. He’s a little busier than I am since he takes side gigs, so he’s not in campus all the time.

When did you last argue? We’ve never fought but the last time I got quite upset with him was last December. We were rushing to get our thesis draft submitted on time and apparently he submitted the file to our professor’s VIBER. He for sure got an earful from me that day.

What is their favourite food? I’m not sure. He does tend to have unpopular food opinions so I wouldn’t be surprised if his favorite is not a common choice.

Where is their favourite place to be? On the basketball court or anywhere with Leigh, I’m guessing.

How many close friends do they have? I know of at least two - JM and Blanch. He is friendly and has an extensive circle though, so I’m sure I’m missing several other close friends of his.

Number Two What colour are their eyes? Dark brown.

Have they known you the longest? Not at all. I’ve only known her for three years.

Where were they born? I’m guessing it would either be Manila or Makati.

Why are they your number 2? She just fell on the second slot. I was trying to randomize my friends’ names and hers just turned out to be the second one I thought of.

Do they like children? I don’t know how she feels about them exactly but one thing I know is that she doesn’t hate kids, and we’ve had numerous conversations on what we’d do in certain scenarios involving kids.

Would they beat you in a race? I think so. But then again I did track at one point, so I’m walking onto that contest already with an advantage.

When did you last spend time alone together? Ugh c’mon man, this question is just sad. Jo had been hanging out at Skywalk less and less ever since most of the people in our friend group graduated last school year, so our last real hangout was probably that time we slept over at Laurice’s in June 2019. We never hung out a lot after that, and of course the lockdown just killed any chances we had of doing so.

Do they have a pet peeve? What is it? She has a lot of pet peeves but I can’t place any of them at the moment.

Number Three What is their hair colour? Black, as do most Filipinos.

What is their job, if they have one? Last I heard she got a gig with a major broadcasting network. I think she’s a segment producer? Segment researcher? Something of the sort.

Do they have their own place? I don’t think so; not just yet.

How many brothers or sisters do they have? I know she has a sister. I’ve forgotten if she has a brother.

Have you ever done something illegal with them? Yes hahaha illegal in university terms, at least. When we had free time and we saw that no one was using one of the classrooms in the college, our friend group snuck inside and played The Devil Wears Prada on the projector. As the only goody-two-shoes in the group I was super uneasy the whole time, but literally no faculty or staff checked in on us for the entire film. That was the moment I knew I was no longer in private school, where everyone watched you like a hawk lol.

How old were you when you met each other? I was 19, she was 21.

Are they more sporty, arty or academic? ARTSY. She’s one of the best artists I’ve ever seen and she can absolutely fucking slay any editorial cartoon.

Have you ever travelled out of country with this person? Nope. I would love to.

Person Four Do they have a favourite musician? St. Vincent’s been her fave for the longest time.

Have you drank alcohol with this person? Many times. When I drink she’s usually around.

Are their parents together? Yes.

What do you enjoy doing with them? EATING OUT!!! I also love going to new places and museum strolling with her, but yeah nothing works for me better than food with my favorite person.

When is their birthday? June 5th.

Do they have long or short hair? Long.

Have you been to a concert with this person? Yes, when we went to (illegally) see Coldplay from the top of a parking lot. Still felt like we were part of the concert grounds though.

If you asked them to describe you, what do you think they would say? Determined, hates to lose, and annoyingly generous.

Person Five Where did you two meet? I met Hannah on our enrollment day for our sophomore year in college. She and Macy had transferred from UPLB to UPD and since Macy and I were already friends from high school, she introduced me to Hannah. Then we became a lot closer when it turned out we were both applying for the same org.

How long ago did they phone you? We both hate phone calls and we’d hate to call/be called.

Do they have a certain sport they play? I don’t think she’s very athletic herself, but she loves watching UAAP games and she has a particular affinity for volleyball.

What about them annoys you sometimes? I never found her annoying. I did notice that her one weakness as a co-worker is her fear of being assertive, putting her foot down, being confident to come up with her own steps on how to come up with steps towards a situation, that kind of stuff. She often wanted someone who she felt like was more knowledgeable to be by her side and make all the decisions. But I did see her bloom a bit after a few months, so I’m proud of the progress.

Are they ruled by their head or their heart? Heart.

Are they male or female? Female.

In what ways are they the opposite of you? She’s religious and she loves to sing and perform.

How many rooms do they have in their house? No clue; I’ve never been to her house. I’ve never even been to her city.

Person Six Can they play an instrument? I think she knows *a bit* of guitar. But she’s not crazy gifted when it comes to musical instruments, I know that much.

Are they close with their mother? VERY. And she has no reason not to be - her mom is the nicest and most compassionate person I’ve ever met. Always treated me like family.

Do you know any of their siblings well? She’s an only child.

How many times have you visited their house? Countless, especially in high school and in our first few years in college.

When did you last go out to eat together? Feb. It was one of the food stalls at The Palace and we needed to eat away all the alcohol lol.

Do they own a bike? I haven’t seen one in her place so I’m assuming no. Her neighborhood is not very bike-friendly to begin with, so it’s understandable.

Do they have a sweet, sour or salty tooth? She has a...green tooth? Hahahaha she likes eating healthily.

What music genre do they listen to most? Pop, pop rock, indie, indie rock.

Person Seven Would you ever consider dating this person? Probably not. She’s SO stable and happy; I’m still working on it. I wouldn’t want to dump my shit on her vibrant and bubbly outlook on life.

Do they prefer cats or dogs? Dog, I think. I don’t know for sure though.

Are they or do they plan to go to college? To study what? Yes, she’s in her senior year now. She’s also taking up journalism – it’s how we met.

If they did something illegal, what would it be? I highly doubt that would ever happen lmao, she’s super nice and such a goody-two-shoes. If she got caught doing something illegal it’s 100% only because she was with someone who did the thing.

Have you ever shared a sundae with this person? Maybe once or twice.

is their hair dyed or natural? It’s all black now, but at one point she dyed it light brown.

Is this person sarcastic? She can be, especially with people she’s close to.

Is this person more likely to party or sit in and read a book? SIT IN AND READ A BOOK. Literally the most accurate option.

Person Eight Have you ever lied to this person? I probably have. We’ve only ever talked on social media, where it’s a lot easier to tell a tiny lie and get away with it.

Do you know where this person was born? Somewhere in Davao I’m assuming.

Do you know their middle name and do they know yours? We know each others’ second names because have them put out on Facebook; but not our middle names.

Do they have any special talents? If she does, I don’t know about them. She’s amazing at writing though.

What is their starsign? Whatever star sign falls on the first half of December.

What is the first thing you notice about this person? Ever since the time she tweeted that she doesn’t like smiling with her teeth, her smile has always been the first thing I’m drawn to.

Have you ever had a big row with this person? Never.

Do you like the same types of movies as this person? Not really. We met because she was friends with my friends who liked the same things she did, but when it comes to us we couldn’t really be any more different.

Random Stuff

Which of these friends would you say you are the closest to? Gabie, of course.

Can you remember all of their birthdays? I’ll give it a shot. June 22, December 31, December 5, June 5, January 16, September 15, May 23...and Aliyah’s is in early December, I’m certain.

Is there anything you regret saying to any of them? I guess only towards Gab, because I’m closest with her and we’ve been through the most together.

Which one of these has been there for you the most? Angela.

Which one have you known the longest and the shortest amount of time? I’ve been aware of Gabie the longest (18 years); been friends with Angela the longest (15 years); and been friends with Andrew the shortest (about a year and a half).

If you needed a laugh, you'd call... I wouldn’t call my friends if I needed help...but if I needed a laugh I’d turn to Anj or Andrew.

If you needed advice, you'd call... Mmm I’d pick among Andrew, Aya, Gabie, Angela, and Laurice.

Which one does your parents like the most? ANGELAAAAAAAA. She’s That friend that I can name-drop when I’m asking for permission to go out, and once my mom hears that she’s going to be with me she usually won’t hesitate to say yes haha.

Is there any of these your parents dislike? They don’t dislike any of them but I have a feeling they’ll disapprove of the fact that I made an online friend in Aliyah, especially my mom.

Do any of them share the same initials? Andrew and Aliyah do.

You can invite one with you for a once in a lifetime trip, which one? Angela.

Something you'd like to say to one of them: I miss you. That applies to everyone.

#survey #surveys #friends survey

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baepsaetan · 4 years

Text

Inkarnate

Summary: Hoseok is a film student looking for muse, and Yoongi is a tattoo artist looking for money. When they meet, the two find that they could give each other far more than creativity and cash, but soulmate isn’t spelled p.e.r.f.e.c.t, and Yoongi’s tattoos cover up more than just his skin.

Chapters: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11 -> read on Ao3

Genre: Soulmate! AU, Angst

Warnings: Smut, main character death, swearing, implied alcoholism, implied past abuse, seriously a lot of angst, cancer.

Length: 8k

A/N: Another one! Already! Ideally this frequent posting will become a Thing but if we’re being honest Maybe Not. Still, hope some people have a chance to read this! Also shout out to @samwithham! It really has been a hot second, but I’m grateful you’re still reading <3

---

The last short finishes with a melancholic flourish that’s a little campy but still effective, and applause fills the theatre. Unlike at normal showings, there’s no immediate mass exodus; almost everyone stays to watch the credits, and even as they roll to a close, only a few people drift out. A low murmur arises from the crowd, and Hoseok hears snatches of opinions on the piece.

“Can you believe he said that?”

“… still caught me by surprise. I liked the depiction of family as…”

“Weren’t you crying? I thought…”

They wash over him, and he drowns in the ideas and impressions bleeding their vivid colours into existence even after the film is done. It doesn’t matter that the lights are coming on, that the screen is black, that people are slowly finding their feet and their car keys and getting ready to leave. There’s something comforting about his satisfaction, something tangible and unquestionable and honest, and Hoseok wants to bury himself in that emotion until he can’t see or feel anything else, forever.

He wants to, but he can’t.

During the presentations of the films, especially as they’d gotten into it, he’d managed to submerge himself in the experience, yet now that it’s over, Hoseok is drained, exhausted. Yoongi had kept hold of his hand for most of it, they’d eventually banished the arm rest and curled up together, and if the artist had dozed off once or twice during the four hour showing, well, Hoseok isn’t in the mood to hold it against him. At least he’s awake now, watching the black screen with a furrowed brow that makes Hoseok think he might be creating some tattoos off of what they’ve seen.

Hoseok eventually rises from his seat, unexpectedly stiff, and Yoongi is much worse, cursing and standing up so slowly he may as well have claimed a senior’s discount. Watching the grumbling sight, against his inclination Hoseok smiles.

“Such an old man,” he comments gently.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Yoongi replies, and laughs at the instant flood of red across the face of the other man, the quick glance to see if anyone heard.

Once he’s sure there’s no one within earshot, Hoseok relaxes, though he’s not necessarily keen on keeping up this line of conversation. Not in public, anyways. As they file for the exit, he asks, “What was your fave? Film, I mean.”

Yoongi pauses by the garbage at the entrance and throws out the wad of Kleenex he’d shoved into his pocket when his nosebleed had ended, a few minutes into the first film. “The one with the girl who gets lost,” he replies. “Though it’s fucking bullshit she never finds her way out.”

Hoseok chucks away the now-empty bag of candy that his boyfriend had impatiently refused every time it had been offered. Remembering the picture Yoongi’s talking about – the editor had gone crazy with the light filtering, but the tracking shots were gorgeous – Hoseok frowns. “You’re calling the ending bullshit but it’s your fave?”

A shrug. “I think we’re supposed to be pissed off about it. Mad no one helped her or something. It being bullshit is the point.”

That… is deeper than he’d expected Yoongi to go, and Hobi probably shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. It’s not like his boyfriend isn’t a thoughtful person – not in the least, actually – but he tends to get impatient trying to explain what he means, and it isn’t often he sounds so calmly certain about a point he’s trying to make. And Hoseok finds himself agreeing. There had been something demanding about the end of the short, about the way the camera spiralled away in an ever widening shot, something that asked why she was left standing alone in that barren space.

“Didn’t look at it like that, but I think you’re right,” Hoseok says quietly, and can’t quell the swell of guilt that washes over him. Had Yoongi been able to see it so clearly because he feels equally abandoned?

The other man glances at him, eyebrow raised. “I’m glad a soon-to-be famous film director agrees with my theory. Maybe I should publish a thesis paper or something.” Sardonic, but lightly so, and Hoseok may or may not be imagining the searching concern hidden behind that sarcastic gaze.

“You can put my name on it, if you want.” Hoseok smiles as he says it, but turns away from the worry his conscience might be making up. If he’s right – if any of the thoughts skittering through his head are right – it isn’t Yoongi who should be looking at him with that veiled compassion. If he’s right, he thinks his heart might just break under such a look.

“I’ll take you up on it,” the tattooist promises. “Until then… what was your fave, Mr. Expert?”

Did he even have one? It’s not that he can’t remember them all individually, but it’s as though Hoseok had tried so hard to submerse himself in the films that he had accidentally pushed too hard against them, smudged the colours and details of their wet-paint newness into a blur. There’s nothing that truly stands out, and that’s… well, that’s just a shame.

“They were all so good. I’m not surprised any of them were included in the festival.”

Head ticking to the side, Yoongi sucks on his spit, opens his mouth, seems to think better of it. He looks down as they push their way through the doors and out into the early evening, his hands crumpling the beanie he’d taken off long ago into a tight ball before shoving it into his hoodie pocket. From the corner of his eye Hoseok catches him chewing on the inside of his cheek, the motion almost savage. Throwing up a hand to shield from the sudden sun, eventually the artist mumbles, “I just – I hope you enjoyed it, yeah?”

“Of course!” The reply is immediate, fervent, because Hoseok can’t bear the tentative way he asks that question. “Especially – man, that you thought of me at all. That you got the tickets for me. That’s so cool, Yoongs.”

The other man relaxes. “Well, like I said, they were free. Really wasn’t much.” That had been such a relief the first time Hoseok heard it, and even hearing it again has him sighing gratefully. He knows Yoongi doesn’t have money to spare – he makes a respectable amount tattooing, but almost everything goes into the rent for Born Tiger – and the thought of him paying had put Hoseok’s throat in knots. At least Yoongi had set that straight during the first intermission between showings.

It suddenly occurs to Hoseok that he knows that Yoongi isn’t lying about getting the tickets for free. Knows, not assumes or believes. It’s like knowing a fact is true because he’s seen it for himself. Where does that certainty come from? Where did–

He jerks his thoughts to a hard stop. He’ll figure it out, one way or another, but for now… for now Yoongi is watching him with gentle, tired affection, and if his eyes are bruises and his skin too blanched, at least he looks happy. Hoseok would do a hell of a lot more than play dumb to keep that expression in place, if only for a little while longer. They stop a little way down the street, keep out of everyone’s way. “You wanna get something to eat?”

Yoongi considers that for a moment, but eventually shakes his head. “I don’t want to take too much of your time – it’s already cool you agreed to spend some time with me today.”

“Y’know, I’m not a celebrity just yet. It’s not like my time is worth gold or anything.”

“Nah,” Yoongi replies with a wry twist of his lips, “just worth something else. Let me start paying you?” Then he reaches over, catches at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and Hoseok is already grinning at the familiar joke, but his smile becomes softer under his boyfriend’s mouth.

This kiss is quiet, almost too timid, so he throws his arms around the other man, pulls him closer, anything to cement their contact. His boyfriend responds with a low hum, the sound a reverberation of appreciation that pulses through Hoseok’s bones, replaces his marrow with a contentment that’s too airy to hold the weight of everything else. But – for a moment, it can manage. And it does, as they break off and Yoongi presses his face against Hoseok’s chest, though not quickly enough to hide the expression on his face, so tender it appears a mere breath from falling apart. Tightening his arms around the small man’s shoulders, as though that alone could hold them both together, Hoseok kisses the top of Yoongi’s head. Was there a way, some magic of filmography he hasn’t found yet, to extend this moment forever? Not freeze it like a photograph, but just… keep it going, keep all the affection and warmth and the way the sun burnishes Yoongi’s blonde hair into feathery gold?

“I love you,” Hoseok murmurs, and for once there’s no anxiety in those words, no uncertainty or fear of rejection. He and Yoongi – together, like this – is so right. Maybe only for a minute or a moment, but for as long as it lasts, he can close his eyes and feel that rightness like music in his ears, like honey on his tongue, like a shot of some view you’d climbed miles to see.

For a long time, there is simple quiet in response, but Hoseok is aware of Yoongi’s shoulders trembling as he struggles to draw in breath after breath. Eventually the artist clears his throats, whispers shakily, “Yeah. I love you too, Hobi… so much,”

They stay as they are for several minutes, secure, linked by touch and something so much heavier, something Hoseok can’t name. Eventually though, Yoongi stirs in his arms, eases himself away. His mouth is a reluctant slash when he looks up, but nonetheless he says, “We should go. You got too much shit to do to be standing around.”

In more ways than one, he’s right. Hoseok can hardly think about the various project deadlines and exams coming up in the next two weeks, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And besides, if he’s actually going to make himself go through with the plan…

It’s his turn to take in a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’ll drive you home first.”

“It’s not that far,” Yoongi snorts dismissively, already turning to walk away.

Hoseok catches his wrist. “You set all of this up for me. It’s the least I can do.”

“Aish… okay.” The surrender comes quickly, more quickly than Hoseok expects it to, and he finds himself wondering at it as they begin to stroll to Hobi’s car. For all of Yoongi’s dismissive tone, it is a pretty far walk to Born Tiger – is that why he’d agreed so promptly? Because a walk like that is hard for Yoongi nowadays?

Jiggling his keys to keep the electric tension at bay, the warmth dissipating like water through his grasping fingers and leaving something cold in its wake, Hoseok can’t stop himself from chatting as they walk, but his heart isn’t in it. Neither is Yoongi’s, to judge by the distracted responses, and he keeps expecting there to be a sudden crack, a sudden halt, a sudden outpouring of whatever is welling up inside the both of them. It never comes, though. The thunderous clouds just swell without rain, and he’s no god to know how to change this weather pattern.

He has to try, though.

By the time they’ve slipped into the car and Hoseok has pulled into rush hour traffic, that knowledge has hardened into resolve. When the other man takes out his phone and starts fiddling with it, he glances over – probably too intently – and asks so casually that it’s not casual at all, “Are you gonna call your doctor for an appointment now?”

Yoongi fumbles the device, drops it into his lap. “What – right now?” he asks, picking it back up.

“Not everyone works ‘til two in the morning, Yoongs. Pretty sure doctor offices close soon.” His companion is frowning at him, and Hoseok just hopes Yoongi assumes he’s nervous about bringing up something that was close to starting an argument a few hours ago. Which he is. Amazing how even a lie can rest on a foundation of truth. Clearing his throat when the other says nothing, he coaxes, “It’ll only take a moment.”

“And you get to see me doing it,” the artist observes flatly.

Hoseok flinches, can’t deny the implicit accusation. But neither can he backtrack, so he keeps his eyes on the road and sits a little straighter. “You put this off a lot, Yoongi. I’m just – I’m trying to help.”

A violent exhale from the man beside him, and Hoseok flinches again, more from the guilt of what he isn’t saying than anything else. After a moment of fraught silence, another sigh, considerably softer than the first. “I know you’re trying. I’m trying too. It’s just, this,” he touches his nose like it symbolizes all the misery he’s been going through, “this ain’t anything until someone tells me it’s something y’know? And I think I would have preferred… I mean, that I’d prefer not knowing. Easier.”

“But not necessarily better,” Hoseok says quietly, and wonders how much of this is real and how much is just more of the same.

“Maybe…” A few seconds pass in torn silence, and then abruptly Yoongi snorts. “Fuck. I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Without waiting for a reply, he scrolls through his phone, has it up to his ear before Hoseok can doubt if he’s actually going to call. “Hello? Dr. Cho? Yeah, this is Min Yoongi calling. No, not – not about that.” It’s impossible to miss the tension in Yoongi’s voice, the coolly impassive look plastered across his face when Hoseok risks a glance, but Hoseok can’t make out anything the person on the other end is saying, just hears an incomprehensible voice.

“No, I don’t want that. I just wanted to schedule another appointment….” A pause as he lets the other person talk, and if anything, Yoongi’s expression grows colder. Or maybe not colder, maybe just… rigid. Eventually he seems to interrupt. “I know all that. Thanks. Like I said, just want an appointment. Some time next week? Yeah, sure. Uh huh. Mhm. Yeah. See you soon. Thanks.” His hand drops to rest limply on his thigh, and it takes several more seconds before Yoongi hangs up the call.

He turns to Hoseok. “Three o’clock on Tuesday. You satisfied?”

Refusing to rise to that combative tone – it’s obvious this call has unnerved his boyfriend, and in between his guilt and his pity, Hoseok can’t feel anything else – the film student just smiles as brightly as he can. “Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. Thanks, Yoongs. Seriously – thanks.”

His voice has lightened into something closer to grumpiness than anger when he replies. “Yeah, whatever. Now I get to spend an hour having her rip into me for not scheduling sooner.”

“Do you not like her?” Hoseok asks in surprise. He’s always assumed Yoongi’s aversion to getting a checkup was an internal issue, but maybe it was partly his doctor’s fault? That makes him hope. Maybe he is overreacting. Maybe it really is as simple as that. Maybe…

Yoongi grimaces. “It’s not like that. She’s just… pushy. Doesn’t like putting up with my bullshit.” His laugh isn’t very amused. “Guess that makes two of us. Anyways, no, I’ve had her for awhile now. She’s fine. I’m just being a bastard.”

“Good to hear.” Although it isn’t, not really.

They don’t talk much for the rest of the trip, Hoseok sweating over somehow giving himself away while Yoongi seems withdrawn and comfortable staring out the window without speaking. When they pull into a spot a short distance from Born Tiger, Hoseok feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. Hands pressing into the steering wheel until they ache, he almost doesn’t manage to make himself do it. Yoongi’s gathered up his stuff, hand on the door, before a surge of desperation rips the words from Hoseok’s tongue.

“Uh, hey! Could I borrow your phone for a sec? Mine’s dead.”

“What do you need it for?” Yoongi asks, but he’s already handing it over, nothing but distracted amusement on his face.

“I forgot I wanted to text Jimin, tell him I’m just gonna grab some fast-food for dinner. Ask if he and the other guys wanted anything.” The pads of his fingers are sweaty, and he has to try a few times to type Yoongi’s password – genius – before getting in. He hovers for a moment over Contacts, struggling to make himself move.

Meanwhile, Yoongi scoffs. “Dunno why you even need to ask. Tae and Kookie would eat out of a garbage bin if someone told them it was free.”

Hoseok cracks a weak smile. “Probably not out of it.” He still can’t make himself do what he’s been planning since before the films.

“Yeah, you’re right. They’d get plastic plates first.” It’s the fondness in Yoongi’s voice that does it. Pushes him into leaving Contacts untouched and pressing on Phone History. Because that gruff, protective affection for the younger boys… Hoseok can’t lose it. He can’t stop having those rough, secure words in his life, not when everything before Yoongi was too smooth to hold onto. He just can’t. And if this isn’t what he dreads it might be, well, Yoongi will be pissed, but he’ll also be forgiving, sooner or later. Haven’t the last few months proven that?

Phone tilted away from the other man, Hoseok taps into the most recent call, made to a Dr. Cho Jiyoo. Moving his fingers like he’s texting, he just stares at the number there instead, committing it to memory to the best of his ability. A few seconds later, he actually goes to Jimin, sends the message, and then hands the cell back to Yoongi with an empty hollowness in his stomach. It’s a good thing his boyfriend has his own things to worry about, because Hoseok isn’t exactly doing this with picture perfect guile.

It doesn’t take hardly any time at all for Jimin to reply, which is a blessing. Hoseok can only repeat the numbers in his head for so long before he’s bound to mess them up, especially while encouraging Yoongi to do most of the talking.

Breaking off a story about a guy who fainted dead away within five minutes of his first ever needle, the artist checks his vibrating phone. “Jimin says Taehyung is eating with Jin, but he and Jungkook could go for something.” Another buzz of an incoming message, and he barks a laugh. “Jungkook votes for McDonald’s, so I was right; he would eat out of a dumpster if it was free.”

Shaking his head at that – 4, 53, 67, 32, 08 – Hoseok asks, “Did Jimin get a vote?”

“Subway. You roll with the most high-class people, hey?”

“Oh, ‘cause your choice would be so much better.” When Yoongi opens his mouth, Hoseok adds, “Starbucks isn’t that classy, Yoongs.” 67, 32, 08…

“You would know,” Yoongi shoots back, with a gummy smile that’s nothing short of breathtaking, and it lurches through Hoseok’s throat until he almost lets go of the numbers and plan altogether. He can hardly breathe through his shame about not speaking honestly to Yoongi, and with that trusting grin right in front of him…

“Yoongi,” Hoseok says, and the man across from him dampens his smile at the strangled tone, leans forward a bit.

“Yeah?” the artist asks quietly, brows furrowing in miniscule tension.

Please tell me the truth. The words are so easy – so impossible to say. What is the truth? What is the nagging feeling that drags like oil across Hoseok’s brain whenever he looks at his tattoo? What is the crumpled expression Yoongi wears when he thinks no one can see him? And what the hell could Hoseok do if Yoongi refused to answer any of those questions?

And what if he didn’t?

His fingers drum against the steering wheel, and when he can’t get them to stop, Hoseok wrenches them off, buries them in his lip. He smiles, or tries to. “I’ll call you later tonight, okay? You can listen to me cry about how behind I am with everything.”

“My favorite mixtape,” Yoongi jokes, though the furrow across his forehead doesn’t really disappear. “I’ll be expecting that call. Don’t skip out.” His way of saying that he’s around to listen, that he doesn’t want Hoseok to keep it to himself. If they don’t get away from each other soon, Hoseok really is going to start crying.

Keeping his breath shallow, he shakes his head. “I won’t. Don’t worry. I’ll see you later.”

He’s actually relieved when Yoongi doesn’t make any move to kiss him goodbye. It’s not the usual – just another signal of how off things are between them – but Hoseok’s pretty sure if they touched right now, everything would come spilling out. Not necessarily through his lips, but maybe through his skin, or his head, or his heart… or wherever this aching connection is anchored, somewhere beyond his mere body.

Hand against his neck, Yoongi hesitates before he opens his door. “Happy belated b-day, Hobi,” he says, and the humour is so pale it might as well be invisible. All Hoseok can do is incline his head and murmur a tight thank you. Fingers still stroking across his neck, there’s another breathless pause before Yoongi shuts his eyes and heaves himself out of the car, movements stiff and pained. “I’ll see you later,” is his low promise, and then the door is thudding closed between them.

Because the spikes of restless agony are threatening to drive straight through him if he doesn’t move to avoid them, Hoseok doesn’t wait to watch his boyfriend walk to Born Tiger. Because there’s something ripping him apart already and anything added will splinter him into even smaller pieces, he doesn’t look in the rear-view mirror once he’s beyond the other man. Because the only thing he can do right now is go forward, Hoseok doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn around, doesn’t go back. He sets his jaw, looks up a number and an address on his almost fully charged phone, and puts it into the GPS.

---

The office looks as conventional as any medical company Hoseok has seen, at least from the outside. Short and insistently rectangular, the building is painted a sandy brown, while the double doors of the entrance are white, and plenty of windows dot the squat structure. There’s a little bed of flowers and some potted plants out front. It doesn’t look like a place where people go to learn they’re dying.

But it is. This isn’t the doctor’s office Hoseok had expected when he looked up the name and the number he had taken from Yoongi’s phone. He isn’t really sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t an oncologist’s office. The CL Courage Clinic is, according to the website, a specialty cancer clinic that deals with various kinds of chronic leukemia. There aren’t all that many cars in the parking lot, but then again, it’s kind of late. He wonders if Dr. Cho is still here. He wonders what he’s doing here.

His pulse is thrumming in his throat, and when Hoseok swallows it feels like his heart is about to burst through his trachea. He knows what the doctor looks like – the website had all of their pictures – but there’s a layer of static over everything he sees and he’s not altogether confident he’ll even be able to recognize her. Breath so harsh he can’t hear the music playing on the car radio, eventually Hoseok shuts it off, anything to reduce the unrelenting everything that’s crushing him into a panicked nothing.

What am I doing here? He’s falling to pieces so quickly he can’t put himself together again. Am I really about to– He can’t think about it, he can’t, he can’t. He has to do it.

He has to, but for a long time Hoseok just sits in his car, shifting constantly, rubbing his fingers raw against anything that comes under his hands. He’d thought he’d go into the building, ask for the doctor, but now he’s starting to wonder if maybe he should just wait for her out here. Maybe she’s gone home already. Maybe the thought that has him caressing his collarbone and then jerking away as if stung is more ridiculous than anything else he’s managed to think up. After so many months – after what feels like a lifetime – would Yoongi really not have told him?

By now, Hoseok isn’t really sure what he’s talking about, even within his own mind. Told him what? About sickness? Or soulmates? Or are they somehow the same thing, now?

Minutes pass and doubts churn trenches through Hoseok’s head, ruthlessly treading the same paths over and over again until it feels like there’s no way to think outside the ditches, no way to leap beyond their bounds. He thinks, and only manages to dig himself deeper into paralysis.

For the seventh or eighth time, the clinic door opens, and someone steps outside. He looks towards them, empty of expectation. That might be why it takes him a moment to recognize the lady in a flora summer dress as she hitches a purse over her shoulder and walks with quick, short strides. When he does, everything… collapses. The fear, the doubts, the shrieking, formless anxiety, they don’t disappear, but they contract into a place somewhere just behind his sternum. It’s almost as though the sheer weight of his breakdown has finally ripped a blackhole into existence, and it’s dragging his heart and lungs and stomach into a mangled mess of impossible heaviness. What emotions could escape the gravity of such dread?

He forces his door open too hard, has to wrench it back to avoid smashing into the truck he’d parked next to. Clambering out of the luxurious car feels like a confession of sin, and his jerky steps are quick to leave the sleek vehicle behind.

“Dr. Cho. Umm, Dr. Cho!” The second time he calls she hears him, turns his way. His immediate impression is thinness – thin black hair, thin lips, thin eyebrows, thin shoulders… thin patience, if the expression on her taut face is any clue. He’s not sure how old she is – maybe fifty, though the exasperation makes it harder to be sure.

“May I help you?” she asks, in a slow way that suggests she’s hoping the answer is no. He can’t entirely blame her, given the time and the way he’s accosting her outside her work.

Bouncing his weight back and forth from foot to foot, Hoseok nods several times as if the motion alone might shake some words from his head to his too-dry mouth. It doesn’t, but the compression in his chest hasn’t managed to swallow his tongue quite yet, and so he manages to push out a quick introduction. “Uh, hello, Dr. Cho. My name is Jung Hoseok. We haven’t – I saw you on the clinic website, and I, umm, was hoping we could talk.”

If anything, her eyes narrow even further. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jung, but I generally only meet by appointment, and only during office hours. You could have phoned the clinic and scheduled a time to talk.” ‘Should have’ is more than implicit in her words, but the doctor’s displeasure hits his chest and – dissolves. It can’t gain any purchase in the flattened landscape of his feelings.

“I’m really, really sorry, but I couldn’t – I only just, uh, found out I need to talk to you.” Because I’m stupid. Because I’ve failed him.

Dr. Cho sighs, adjusts the purse on her shoulder. The motion makes her seem less annoyed and more… tired. “Did you receive a referral from your family doctor? I know it’s always very terrifying to receive a possible diagnosis, but it really would be better to schedule an appointment, so I have the opportunity to look at your information and –”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok interrupts, the pressure mostly squeezing embarrassment into oblivion. He doesn’t even flush at accidentally giving her the wrong impression. “It’s not about me, it’s about one – one of your patients.”

Immediately her back is a little straighter, her brow a little more creased. “One of my patients?”

“Yes. His name is Min Yoongi. He’s… I think he’s been seeing you recently?”

She mouths the name, not as if it’s unfamiliar, but rather as though it surprises her to hear someone mention it. The tightness behind his ribs contracts even further, to the point of pain. He’d thought – hoped, prayed, begged – that she wouldn’t know what he was talking about, but she definitely knows Yoongi. Everything had suggested that she would, but if it had been a misunderstanding, if he’d gotten the wrong doctor… It’s getting a bit hard to breathe.

For a second, it looks as though curiosity might impel Dr. Cho to speak further, but the inclination is quickly suppressed, and her wariness comes back. “We’re not permitted to discuss our patients without their permission. It’s best if you ask him about–”

“He won’t tell me.” Even to his own ears, the toneless certainty is too flat to be anything but despairing. Hoseok tries to picture it – tries to imagine a conversation between he and Yoongi that leads towards them understanding each other more, and not breaking apart – but he can’t. He believes Yoongi loves him, but now, with the open chasm of truth before him, Hoseok knows his boyfriend would do anything to avoid pitching him into its consuming blackness. That must be why. It’s the only reason he can think of for why they haven’t taken this plunge together.

It doesn’t make him feel better – if anything, it just makes it worse. He had thought honesty was white, was open, was a bridge between two trusting people, but this – this isn’t that.

Her eyes flick to his face and then quickly away again, embarrassed or uncomfortable with whatever she finds there. When the doctor speaks, her voice is kind but without an inch of give. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t help you with this. It seems best that you talk to him directly. If he gives permission for me to disclose information…” By the way she trails off, Hoseok isn’t the only one who knows that won’t happen. How long has Yoongi been seeing her for, that she’s so aware of that fact?

Straightening her shoulders, expression apologetic in face of his hopeless silence, Dr. Cho inclines her head. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “I hope everything works itself out.” And with that she moves to leave.

It turns out there’s one thing strong enough to escape the blackhole nestled in his chest – desperation. “Wait!” Hoseok reaches out, jerks back his hand before he catches her. Nonetheless, she pauses. Hardly knowing what he’s doing, he finds himself scrabbling at the high neck of his shirt, yanking it down with enough force that it sounds like the fabric is ripping. Ignoring that, he pulls it even further, baring the wilted flower there. The way her eyes widen, the way she leans forward with a mixture of revulsion and reluctant fascination, tells him it’s exactly as it’s been for the last few weeks.

He knows what she’s wondering as her gaze traces the withered lines, the tones that smudge more towards ashen rot than any real flower would ever experience. Why would someone get a tattoo like this?

Why did he get a tattoo like this? And God, doesn’t he know the answer?

“This belongs to him,” Hoseok blurts out, still only half sure of what he’s saying.

She doesn’t look away from the decaying image, but there’s no dawning awareness on her face as she replies, “Yoongi is a tattoo artist, isn’t he? He did this?” Can he blame her for not understanding? How long has it taken him to finally grasp what’s been hovering over this mark? How many times has he been on the verge of holding it, only to let go at the last moment, afraid that comprehension will make it into a reality too heavy to carry?

He takes too long to respond, grappling with what to answer. Dr. Cho straightens, finally pulls her eyes away. “It seems you’re good friends, and he’s obviously very talented, but that… I still can’t help you.”

“No, I don’t –” Just what is he trying to say? The pressure crushing his insides is finally too tight; cracks are ribboning through the blackhole, fissures of agonized acknowledgement that his whole existence isn’t enough to suppress. Guilt, terror, rage, grief – what are those words in the midst of the detonation blossoming it’s frenzied heat up his throat?

His hand finds the tattoo, presses against it. Too hard, his nails digging into the skin, but the heat remains, and so does the flower. It will continue there. He can’t rip it off. Nothing can. Nothing can separate the mark from the flesh. Hoseok finds a sudden, bracing relief in that thought, as though, with everything spiralling out of his hands, this alone will remain as it is. No matter what he says, no matter what he does – this bond is going to remain.

He breathes through his clenched teeth, as if the air burns his lungs, but there are a few words that haven’t been immolated in the fire. “This tattoo belongs to Yoongi,” Hoseok repeats, his tone almost too shrill. “It belongs to him, because–” There is a small falter, another hard inhale, before he continues, voice picking up force and certainty. “Because he belongs to me.”

Caught up in the torrent of his declaration, Dr. Cho understands what he means immediately, and her expressive eyebrows jump up in startled incredulity as she takes an involuntary half-step back. He almost wants to do the same, with the words still searing his tongue and blistering his lips. Saying it feels like releasing a spell, like casting some kind of dreadfully powerful incantation that he couldn’t undo even if he wanted to. At the same time, there’s a shuddering throughout his whole body, as if his muscles and bones are snapping into their proper places, for the first time in forever. He belongs to me. Hoseok wouldn’t unsay that, even if he could.

This time, when her gaze lands on the mark, it tears along the lines like a surgical knife, trying to separate the bleak colours from the skin, to see it in a different light. And see it she does, as the understanding settles into something deeper, sorrowful realization mingling with heavy pity. Hoseok doesn’t want to see that – he wants to shut his eyes – but that won’t stop the sensation discharging through his arteries and carrying liquid anguish to the rest of his body.

“You two are bonded?” Dr. Cho all but whispers, and it’s so easy to ignore the way his eyes are aching and simply nod instead, as though he’s known all along. So easy to acknowledge that blood is red, tears are clear, Hoseok has a tattoo, and he and Yoongi are soulmates.

Why is it so easy? After months of refusing to believe, embracing this truth feels like holding onto Yoongi; light, warm, and altogether too real to be doubted. Hoseok finds himself mouthing the words, though he can’t quite say it yet. We’re bonded.

The doctor’s lips twist, her head tilting slightly, but nonetheless her examination doesn’t let up, body angled unwillingly forward to get a better view. “It hasn’t always looked like this?” she finally asks, and he wonders suddenly if there’s some kind of medical practice that takes the condition of soulmate tattoos into consideration. If she could have used this earlier.

It’s not so easy to shake his head, but Hoseok forces himself to do it anyways. “No, it hasn’t. Just – just recently. It’s always been – it’s never been absolutely perfect, but never this bad.”

“He really hasn’t told you anything?” Her disbelief hurts him, ashes and cinder burning along his throat as he’s reminded of how wrong this is.

Swallowing the embers, he replies, “No, he… I didn’t ask him enough. I should have pushed harder. I should have…” There’s too much to write in this column, not enough ink to jot it all down. He should have, he should have, he should have. “Please, I don’t know what else to do. Please, just…” Help me. Hoseok doesn’t know how to say that to this stranger, this woman who may well have been keeping his soulmate alive, who is undoubtedly judging him for his severe deficiencies now.

But if Dr. Cho is judging him, that judgement doesn’t overwhelm her sympathy. Eyes rising from his tattoo to meet his frantically imploring stare, the thin woman taps her forehead, where thoughtful creases have appeared. She doesn’t seem like the type to agonize over a decision for very long. And sure enough, far before the apprehension can do more than constrict his throat, the doctor turns away, begins to walk back to the clinic. Hoseok stares after her, not daring to expect anything.

Over her shoulder, she calls words that give him the barest hint of a reason to hope. “Come. We should discuss this in my office.”

Injected with something resembling relief – but not that, never that, not while Yoongi’s reality is still so twisted from what it should be – Hoseok hurries after her.

---

He’s collapsed on the couch, back pressed into the armrest, knees drawn up, a sketchbook resting on his abdomen and balanced against his legs, his coloured pencils on the table next to him. Yoongi is hunched over the drawing, almost curled around it, as though it’s an open wound that needs protecting. And maybe it is. He’s made several dozen strokes of his pencil along the page, but they’re just aimless slashes, split seams with nothing in between. He’d wanted to put his feelings down – on paper and otherwise – but his ideas keep slipping away, and if Yoongi knew what he wanted to draw when he sat down, he certainly doesn’t know now.

Hoseok’s face keeps intruding. That isn’t unheard of – and typically it’s more of a pleasure than a pain – but today is different. The sun without its rays is stark. Hoseok’s face without its smile is bleak.

Today had gone so fucking wrong.

I am so tired of this fucking bullshit.

It’s true, but it’s truer to say that Yoongi is tired of his own bullshit. Whether he means his body’s slow deterioration or his constant lying to hide that decline depends on the day – hell, it depends on the hour. Right now, he pretty much means the lying part. Pulling himself together enough to accompany Hoseok to the film festival after the news Dr. Cho had given him hadn’t been all that difficult – even Atlas had to get comfortable with the world on his shoulders, sooner or later – but had it even been worth it?

More and more, when Hoseok looks at him, Yoongi senses that the other man is… searching. Looking beyond the barriers he throws up, even looking beyond the concrete comfort that they feel when they’re together. His sun tattoo has been looking off recently, too. The colour isn’t draining, but the rays of light have become sharper, more defined, almost painfully distinct. Little spikes of anxiety. The overall tone has also shifted to a redder hue, more like a dying sun than a brilliant one.

Brushing his thumb over the inside of his elbow, he can’t stop the twist of his lips. Today, with Hobi all but demanding he call the doctor, Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss him or smack him upside the head. The concern is touching, a heart-hurt that he can only be grateful for, but it can only lead one way, the one way Yoongi can’t accept, and he suspects they’re getting closer to that path.

In fact, as Yoongi had shut the car door and walked away, that feeling solidified into certainty. Hoseok found something. That’s what his demand was about, that was why he was acting so shady. The realization had been all altitude and dizziness for Yoongi, and even now, there’s nausea cringing at the corners of the artist’s stomach, like he expects the floor to collapse at any second and send him plummeting straight down. What had Hoseok found? Which secret? Any? Or is this just paranoia stacked on pain?

Another rough line added to the rest of the strokes, and it’s still a mess. Nothing clear. No answers. Just the wild apprehension teeming like termites through his wooden brain. Mumbling to himself, Yoongi tears out the page, holds it in his hand for a moment before, with a low exhale, he casts it aside.

He can’t start over anywhere else in his life, but isn’t that half the appeal of what he’s doing now?

This time, when Yoongi begins to draw, he has a better idea of where he wants to go. He’s borrowing from the film he’d liked. The concept, not the actual image. A single stem of soft blue orchids, floating in a black expanse that’s barely discernable as water. It looks more like ink. Some of the flowers are already partially submerged in the dark substance, the gentle petals streaked with oily shadows. There’s no ripple across the water, no sign of movement or change. Just the orchids, alone, slowly sinking.

It takes him a couple of hours, and during that time he can pour everything into the long funnel his focus creates, splattering the page with his loneliness. The fear, the anger, the guilt, the grief, it’s all there in that limitless lake of black. It’s nothing more than a sketch; he needs a table and a better setup to draw something worth showing to others. It is what he wanted to draw, though. As he finishes he knows that, yet… when Yoongi looks at it, his pencil falling into his lap, the itching, frantic feeling is already beginning to squirm to life again. He can’t exorcise it with this torrent of truth.

What if Hoseok does know? What then? Where is the beaming man in this picture?

Yoongi glances at his cell, checking the time. He’s only a little surprised to see that it’s a bit after 7. Time is a construct, after all, and it’s especially unstable when creativity and emotions come out to play together. A direct quote from Namjoon. Yoongi scoffs at it even as fondness makes him smooth the page against his knees with more gentleness than he might have done otherwise. The despair is demanding he crumple paper and shatter glass, but the artist shoves it down. Remembers the look on Hoseok’s face when he saw the theatre and realized where they were going.

His pencil – a yellowy gold tone – hovers uncertainly over the corner of the drawing. Can he add this? Does he deserve to add it?

Before he can make up his mind, there’s a knock on the entrance downstairs. Hard. It comes again, and then again, no regularity to the sounds. Again, like stuttering breaths or crippled steps. The pounding sets his nerves alight, and against any rational thought, Yoongi freezes, his fingers curling into fists. It’s probably some drunk messing up where they are; there are enough of those on Skymont, even if it is kinda early. Or maybe it’s a customer who forgot something, even though he’s meticulous about cleaning the studio and hadn’t found anything recently. It’s probably nothing. Maybe he doesn’t even need to answer.

It isn’t any kind of rational thought that has Yoongi casting his eyes down, half-flinching at a new round of knocking. It isn’t even intuition, the kind you laugh at during the day and heed while walking down dark streets. Something more forceful, inexorable, makes him drag his gaze back to the tattoo he had been considering only a few hours ago. A tattoo that is, before his eyes, slowly but surely dissolving through a slew of sickly colours, like diseased flesh across his skin. Yet, even as Yoongi watches in numb, detached interest, the form begins to solidify in an explosion of brighter, harsher tones.

As it does, he hears someone call in a voice stripped to its ragged core, “Yoongi!”

The sun loses its colours, finds them again, shot through with waves of distortion that look like a mirage. Repeat. And repeat.

The entire process takes about five minutes, and the knocking doesn’t stop, and still Yoongi can’t make himself move. He watches the tattoo, waiting for it to fade into nothing, or at least go dead and black. It doesn’t, the jumbled swirls of colour continuing, but the person at the door calls again, “Yoongi! Yoongi – open the door.”

Yoongi’s complained about his thin walls before. Hoseok knows that he can hear. It wouldn’t even matter if he hadn’t. The tattooist – feels his soulmate. All the time, yes, but more so now, the awareness closer to a deafening noise than any kind of conscious recognition. And the wavering lines of the tattoo mean… just exactly what he’s suddenly terrified that they mean. The numbness is washed away in a flood of ice through his stomach, and Yoongi realizes that he’s trembling.

Almost too hard to make it down the stairs, hand on the wall for balance.

Stumbling off the last step, the artist makes his way down the hallway, through his tattooing parlour. The scents and sights of his chairs and equipment aren’t reassuring; he’s alienated from them, as though he’s become a ghost, just drifting through an existence that’s no longer his. Each knock jars him further from reality. He can’t seem to formulate any thoughts. No words or excuses or apologies to set his slanted world back on its straight axis.

The dread is a far stronger impression than anything else, coppery on his tongue, and by the time Yoongi gets to the front of the store, he can even feel it coating his fingertips. Lifting a too-heavy arm, he pauses at the lock, watches the way his hand shakes in front of it, and abruptly feels contempt. He’s so afraid. Does Hoseok deserve such a cowardly person?

“…Yoongi?” Quieter now, as though he knows how much closer Yoongi is, Hoseok’s voice wedges into the icy fear, sends little cracks shuddering through it.

His other hand comes up to press against his neck, almost hard enough to cut off air and dread altogether, and in the same motion, Yoongi throws the bolt. He can’t make himself open the door. He doesn’t need to. The other person must hear him fumbling with the lock – or maybe they just know – and a second later the door is jerked open.

The bell rings. Yoongi flinches. Hoseok doesn’t.

His crumpled mouth hurts more than even the red, frantic eyes, though those are hard enough to meet. It’s just, Yoongi hasn’t ever wanted to be the reason Hoseok frowns like that, like he’s going to crumple at any second. Hoseok is the most beautiful person on the planet when he smiles, and right now his mouth looks like it will never remember how to smile again. Yoongi caused that misery one too many times already, and he’s literally sacrificed everything to avoid doing it again.

Looking at Hoseok’s foundering expression becomes too painful and he wrenches his eyes down only to see his hands, running feverish tracks along the seams of his jeans. Faced with the silent, screaming pain of those fingers, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say.

#yoonseok #sope #sope fanfiction #yoonseok fanfiction #networkbangtan #my fanfic #yoongi #hoseok

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virtuallytakenby · 5 years

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Hmm, odd numbers babe!!

Thanks for asking hun :D

1: Full name

Hmm, I’m not ready to answer that just yet. You can call me Pari though :)

3: 3 Fears

Dying before I do anything meaningful in life/dying too young, insects and losing loved ones.

5: 4 turns on

Eye contact, good personality, voice (like Raleigh Carrera’s, haha), neck kisses.

7: My best friend

I have 3 best friends who know different things about me lol. I’m too scared to trust one person entirely. Plus these three don’t talk to each other since they’re not close or even in the same country.

9: My best first date

I’ve never had a date despite being in a relationship for 2 years. We were both in boarding school.

11: What do I miss

I miss living with my roomies in boarding school. It was a strict school but we had fun breaking rules and not getting caught. Like sneaking in junk food from outside, etc.

13: Favourite color

Blue and Green

15: Favourite quote

“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” — Lilo & Stitch

17: Favourite food

Veg Enchiladas from this restaurant near my apartment.

19: What am I listening to right now

Flames by Zayn and R3HAB

21: Shoe size

23: Hair color

A mix of dark and light brown (natural)

25: Ever done a prank call?

YES

27: Meaning behind my URL

It means exactly what it says. Virtually taken by [so many fictional characters] ;)

29: Favourite song

Icarus Falls album by Zayn. I can’t choose one!

31: How I feel right now

Sleepy.

33: My current relationship status

Single (been single for almost 3 years)

35: Favourite holiday

Songkran Holiday in Thailand. It’s like a water festival.

37: Tattoos and piercing I want

I want a tattoo of Stitch with the Ohana quote. A few more probably but not sure what (I have no tattoos at the moment). I already have 6 ear piercings (4 in the right ear and 2 in the left) so I want an industrial piercing in my left one day.

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

I used to hate him. I think he probably did too cause I broke up with him. But he apologized to me a couple months back after asking what went wrong. I forgave him, but I still don’t like him. The hatred is gone though. I’m pretty sure he doesn't hate me.

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

Nope.

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

30 to 40 mins tops (includes shower and shampooing, getting dressed, light make up, packing my bag for uni).

45: Where am I right now?

In my room.

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

I like it loud when I want to drown everyone out. Which is most of the time.

49: Am I excited for anything?

I don’t know. It’s more like excited/nervous about my future.

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

Too often.

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

I’d probably turn away or something. Not because it’d hurt me, but because I don’t want to be staring at them.

55: What is something I disliked about today?

Crappy singing (by my sister)

57: What do I think about most?

My senior thesis for college. My senior year is still 9 months away but I’m already thinking that I’ll direct a short film for my thesis.

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

I don’t think so? I’m afraid of swimming in a water body with fishes (I’d prefer the swimming pool). So I’m not exactly scared of fishes per se, it’s more like scared of swimming with the fishes.

61: What was the last lie I told?

That I had a subway sandwich when I actually had McDonald’s fries with cheese dip.

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

I don’t believe in ghosts. Maybe aliens but gosh I need a solid sign that they exist.

65: Do I believe in luck?

Sometimes.

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

Supernova by Marissa Meyers.

69: Do I have any nicknames?

I do. A lot of people can’t pronounce my real name so I have many variations of my name.

71: Do I spend money or save it?

I save it usually. But I do spend on food.

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

Yep.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Watching YOU season 2

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

I honestly have no idea.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

I’ll probably be burned and my ashes scattered.

81: My top 5 blogs on Tumblr

I’m new so I don’t know a lot of people. But here are the ones I scroll through @dailydoseofchoices @oneemofungirl @kayden-vescovi @meindraws

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

Nope.

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid, to tell the truth on?

Hmm, I don’t know. I’d be afraid of my family finding out that I even had a boyfriend.

87: Had sex?

Nope. Glad I didn’t with my ex (not that we could in boarding school anyway. It was hard enough to make out). He’s asked me towards the end of our two-year relationship and I said no.

89: Gotten pregnant?

Nope, still a virgin. And I doubt Jane the virgin scenario would happen to me.

91: Kissed a boy?

Yep.

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

Nope.

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Yes, once. I freaked out.

97: Had sex in public?

Still a virgin.

99: Smoked weed?

Nah. I stay far faaaaar away from it.

101: Smoked cigarettes?

Never. Nor do I want to try.

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

Yes, I’m vegetarian. It’s a choice. My dad eats non-veg, but I never acquired a taste for it. I do eat eggs though.

105: Been underweight?

No.

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

Yes!

109: Been outside my home country?

Yes. I’ve been to Singapore, Hong Kong, and a few places in the U.S. And I live in Thailand.

111: Been to a professional sports game?

I went to a tennis match in the 8th or 9th grade.

113: Cut myself?

Accidentally? Many time. I’m clumsy AF. Purposely? Once.

115: Been on an airplane?

Many times!

117: What concerts have I been to?

Sadly, none.

119: Learned another language?

I can speak 3 languages fluently, including English (which is my 3rd language) and I know basic Thai. I used to be fluent in Thai as a kid but I forgot most of it in boarding school.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

Still a vIrGin.

123: Dyed my hair?

I’ve highlighted it gold before. Just a few stripes.

125: Rode in an ambulance?

Nope.

127: Met someone famous?

Once, yes. I don’t remember who. I was an 8-year-old kid or something.

129: Peed outside?

As a kid, yep.

131: Helped with charity?

I’ve been to old age homes to give away some supplies and money.

133: Broken a mirror?

Cracked it a little. Not on purpose.

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

2 to 3? I’m not sure of the names yet.

137: Do I like my handwriting?

Nah, it’s messy AF. It also keeps changing LOL.

139: Favourite Tv Show?

The 100, Orphan Black, Full house, Fuller House, Arrowverse shows, etc. SO MANY.

141: Play any musical instrument?

I can play a little bit of the following (I learned in school but never kept up with it): recorder, keyboard, violin, xylophone, harmonium, sitar.

143: Favourite pizza topping?

CHEEEEEEESE.

145: Am I afraid of heights?

Nope.

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

A lot of times.

149: What my greatest achievements are

It’s yet to come.

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

pay off loans, pay for tuition, save whatever’s left for emergencies.

153: My closest Tumblr friend

@dailydoseofchoices

155: Any question you’d like?

I don’t know haha.

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marylyn7 · 6 years

Text

in this thesis i will explain why skam austin is actually really good and highly underrated:

1) Social Media: The content has been amazing. It’s fun, up to date, and fills the gap in between clips perfectly. Everyone has different aesthetics on their Instagram, ranging from perfect cohesive feed (Megan/Marlon) to posting whatever (Grace)

2) Relatable: The show has made suchhh little changes here and there that have made it more relatable to the American audience. Grace twerking, P Jo asking about SickoMode or MoBamba, “Juniors can’t park in the Senior parking lot,” etc.

3)The characters/humor of the show: I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s the funniest remake (even the background actors). Some 16-year-olds are not all worried about ‘aesthetic’ and ‘chill, cool,’ some 16-year-olds are annoying as Kelsey, as quirky as Jo, as indecisive as Megan, as brash as Tyler, as know-it-all as Marlon, as cheesy smooth like P Jo, and are hard to read like Grace. There is something so widely distinct about all of them, and none of them are trying to be an aesthetic, which is my favorite part. I don’t look at any of them and idolize the way they look, dress, or carry themselves...which is the reason why I fell in love with Skam in the first place. They feel like people I knew in HS and that’s what essentially makes Skam, SKAM, imo. They are real people that you could be friends with, not real people who I want to be friends with. Not to mention....THIS SHOW IS SO DIVERSE AND IT IS WONDERFUL.

4) The actors and their relationships: For some reason, a lot of the actors on Skam Austin are constantly criticized, when in actuality, they are doing a great job. Part of me thinks it’s pretty people privilege and because Skam Austin has cast people that actually look like everyday 16-year-olds, who don’t have tons of money to spend on nice clothes/makeup/etc. that a lot of people see that as the actors ‘coming short,’ when in reality, everyone likes to hype up pretty people. Each actor has done a great job in either bringing a sense of humor, authenticity, or something fresh. The friendships of Jo/Zoya and P Jo/Daniel are some of the best in allll of the Skam remakes. The girl squad is slowly finding it’s way and I’m excited to see their dynamic this season.

5) Grace: I see a lot of criticism for Grace and to each person their opinion. However, Grace is being compared to European remakes, in which the teenage dependency on parents is a bit different than the one with American parents. Obviously not having your parents in your life is difficult for any child, country irrelevant, but parents are usually very involved in their child’s schooling process, especially during high school. Parent’s know how hard it is to get into college, and they also know how hard it is to find a job after college. Alot of American young adults (including myself especially in California) don’t move at 18, we live with our parents until we have the financial stability to live on our own. I guess what I’m trying to say is, we still don’t know Grace’s backstory....she is one of the more reserved but lowkey internally cold/angry Nooras, so I wish everyone would give her a chance. ALSO, she has delivered one of the best confrontations with the ‘William’ character -- I’ve asked people who don’t even watch the show (just showed them a clip of all the remakes and that scene) and they agree hers is one of the best.

Finally, I see constant comparisons to the other European remakes....but you can’t necessarily do that. A lot of the European remakes (imo) have one thing in common and that is the TYPE of aesthetic, the concentration is always on surroundings...because they are beautiful countries filled with rich history, architecture, etc. America isn’t like that....a lot of America is what it looks like, LAND. We don’t have the European architecture, the cobblestone streets, the greenery...especially in a place like Austin. Yes, Austin is beautiful but in a different way than Italy, France, Norway, etc. is. Skam Austin has to approach the ‘aesthetic’ feel that OG Skam gave in a completely different manner, it cannot rely on the environment of the place because it’s being filmed in the suburbia of a large ass state, so it’s actually MORE difficult to create this ‘aesthetic’...which is also why I think people don’t think it feels like ‘Skam’....because a lot of Skam WAS the beauty of the background that these actions were taking place in.

Anywho, I hope everyone gives Skam Austin a shot. Because it truly is showcasing authentic American culture, has great SM content, the chemistry between the characters is authentic, it is VERY diverse, and it’s highly relatable.

#skam austin #skam remakes #this is long lmao but im sick of reading hate in the tag #i said what I SAID

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fratboykate · 5 years

Note

No one in my family has ever done anything but boring normal jobs and I'm just in city college right now trying to get my gened requirements out of the way before I can transfer to a bigger school but I'm probably going to do something boring like business management or I don't know. Boring. I know what classes in a normal school look like but I can imagine what classes in a artsy film school are. What do you guys take?

I can't remember all of them but these are some of the classes I took:

Everyone in VMA/film has to take these four classes in freshman year so they were by far the biggest rooms I ever had because it was the first year cattle call. This was "come one, come all" vs. the normal class sizes which was pretty much 8-15 students:

-History Of Media Arts I

-History Of Media Arts II

-Dimensions Of Creativity

-Foundations in Visual Media Arts Production

I also had to take two practical classes where we got to write, direct, and edit our own projects BUT we pretend it's 1940 and have to shoot on film, develop film, and then edit on Steenbecks like fucking animals lol. Those were "Introduction To Film Production" (We called it Film I. The camera we use for these are black and white 8MM Bolex) and "Intermediate Film Production" (Film II. We shoot on 16MM and graduate to color film like big boys and girls lol)

We were also all required to take "Media Criticism & Theory". It's the first 200 level course so you literally can't keep moving on with your major unless you pass that class and depending on which teacher you get lucky or unlucky enough to get it can be either a great class or a fucking AWFUL class. I took it while I was doing my semester abroad in Europe so we only had One class andOne teacher. Zero choice in the matter, no options. If you went to Kasteel for the semester it's just who you were taking the class with. VMA 200 was ///BY FAR/// the most painful class I ever took while at school but...I guess I can say it's the reason I'm so detailed in my criticism of media because by god if how to properly analyze and break down a piece of media was not metaphorically beaten into me by a mallet wielding Belgian man lol. I've never been more proud of getting an A in a class in my life.

We also all had to take "Critical Listening" and one of the three screenwriting foundation courses (Writing The Short Subject, Writing The Feature Film, Writing For Television).

Then after that people pretty much break off into their concentrations for junior and senior year where you focus on career specific classes. Classes I took for my Directing Narrative Fiction major:

-Directing Actors For The Screen

-Directing Image & Sound

-Directing The Feature Film

-Ways Of Seeing

-My directing thesis classes

I also took some level 400 seminar electives that were really dope. I know there were more but I can only remember these two because either the teacher was wild or the class itself was super cool:

-"Film & Television In The Age Of Anxiety". I'm way oversimplifying it, but at its core it was all about how media pretty much did a 180 degree turn after 9/11.

-"Media Of Consumption: From Totally Cool to Totally Wired." was looking at how media had evolved into being nothing more than a tool to sell you something. What the "something" is varies but it's ultimately one thing or another.

And I had classes for my two minors to mix in with all my major requirements too so it was a handful.

---

PS: I totally forgot three big concentrations in my last ask. It's not just directing, writing, editing, cinematography, and producing. You can also major in animation, studio TV producing, documentary, experimental, and sound design/post sound.

#my rants #kg answers #anonymous

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muminous · 6 years

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would anyone like to uhh.... help increase my chances of graduating?

my high school has a crazy senior thesis thing and we're supposed to be done in a month but I'm starting over again because my teacher literally wanted me to do something as big as solving hunger in my city and I wouldn't have been able to do anything close to that within one month.

requirements: there has to be a "big picture" topic, and within that there has to be a conflict. we then need to have a methodology for research that best fits this topic. we can't just stop there we either need to have a solution to the problem or expand research and share the new information with the class and panel. we also need to have a PROJECT not just research and depending on the topic it can be something artsy like a short film or you can make music or something else idk what categories you would put them in (for example when my topic was food banks and my research goal was to "increase the effectiveness" of one, my project was to make and implement an action plan for a food bank) and I think that's about it I don't even know at this point shskjsjs

I told my teacher i want to change my topic (because literally how the hell was a 17 year old girl supposed to implement an action plan that would decrease the level of hunger in her community within one month) and she's okay with because she honestly doesn't want me to pass at all lol. I want it to be on something I'm more passionate and knowledgeable about so I can write it easier, so something like women's issues, but if anyone has a cool suggestion and some reliable sources for me to get started on the research with then I'm down. I'll also need method and project suggestions of course.

TL;DR: I really need to graduate so if anyone can recommend a topic, conflict within that topic, a method of research, and a project that corresponds with that topic so I can do this damn senior thesis that would be great

#advice #help pls #idk how to tag this #senior thesis #school

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frederator-studios · 6 years

Text

Justin Chan: The Frederator Interview

vimeo

Justin Chan is a Toronto based artist and animator who keeps plenty busy: in college, he designed characters for Nickelodeon and Mattel, and as a post-grad, he still takes freelance animation jobs while working full time as a concept artist on major video game titles. Somehow he still finds time to work on his own IPs, including “Veggiemancer,” created as his senior year thesis at Sheridan College and a proof of concept. It’s a lovely minute of animation, and I - along with the many fans who give TLC to the project as he develops it over Twitch livestreams - can’t wait to watch the idea grow.

When did you decide you wanted to work in art or animation?

I’ve been drawing since I was young. I grew up really into cartoons and video games. So art was a hobby for a really long time. Then in my later years of high school I decided I wanted to go to college for it and do it professionally.

Where did you go to school?

I went to Sheridan College for their Animation program. “Veggiemancer” was actually my thesis project that I made in the final year. We spent 2 semesters working on them: the first was all the planning and storyboarding, and the second was executing the idea. Rough animation, clean-up, compositing.

What inspired “Veggiemancer”?

I was looking for a simple story idea that I could build a portfolio around. It’s definitely Ghibli-influenced. I wanted to build a world with characters that have magical powers, and that’s what led to these funky vegetable creatures. So I built the idea out of those characters. I had more story planned for the film - the final version is only a minute long - but I had to cut things to finish it in time.

Makes sense - it look beautiful! Are you still developing the idea?

I am: I try to sit down and work on it at least once a month. Add new pieces, redesign characters. I play around with different settings or ages for the characters. And some totally out there ideas: like one where she pilots a mecha robot. So I’m experimenting with a bunch of different ideas right now.

Are there more details about the world and characters in “Veggiemancer”?

The girl is Paprika, and her little radish companion I haven’t finalized a name for yet. I call him Radish Boy for now. I’m still figuring out the world - it changes constantly. But for the short, I imagined there are many kinds of Veggiemancers. Paprika specializes in radish-type vegetables, but there are mancers that favor other kinds of vegetables and fruit, like carrots or tomatoes. There’s magic and bewitchment: Gordon, Paprika’s older brother, she accidentally turned into a radish type, and isn’t yet advanced enough to change him back.

Do you plan to pitch it as a TV series eventually?

Maybe one day! But I think a more realistic goal would be to make it into a short comic first. Or potentially a pilot, if the right opportunity came up.

Are you working on other ideas outside of work?

Definitely. “Veggiemancer” is one of my larger projects, but I have a bunch of different characters I’m starting to build stories around. I also do Game Jams: the one in Toronto gets about 400 participants annually. I work with a game design friend of mine; he codes and I make the art, and together we plan an original concept in 3 days. It’s a lot of fun, and often people will keep working on their ideas after the festival ends. Some have even become indie games.

That's awesome. Did your path as an artist always skew toward games?

I was fortunate enough to do freelance work during school, and back then my work was more aligned with TV animation. While at Sheridan I worked as a flash animator, and eventually began doing character design for a few clients: Nickelodeon, Nick Jr., Mattel. But along the way my interests started leaning toward games more. So after I finished “Veggiemancer,” I was hired at Ubisoft Toronto to do concept art for games.

How did you enjoy that?

It was a great learning experience. My style is definitely more stylized and cartoony than most of the projects done at Ubisoft. So I learned a lot about using more realistic and grounded lighting and colors, and taking advantage of texture more. The year I was there helped my art develop a lot. The game I worked on was recently announced: Starlink: Battle for Atlas. It’s a toys-to-life game kind of like Skylanders, but the setting is in space.

What’d you do after Ubisoft?

I work at a visual development company, Crush Visual, still doing concept art for games. I also still do freelance work for TV, and I teach on the side too.

How do you like teaching?

I’m still pretty new to it! I’ll start my 3rd semester in June. But so far it’s been really rewarding. The students are all really talented, and it’s nice to kind of give back to the art community in Toronto. It’s fun to watch them progress through the course - it sounds cheesy, but I learn a lot from them too.

What is your biggest career aspiration or goal?

I’d like to have my own game one day. To do the art direction on a game - or to have my own show. I’d like to be able to develop my own IPs; whatever form that might take. Maybe it’s a comic. Just to be able to develop my own ideas and build worlds around my characters.

What sort of things do you do outside of work, to develop your IPs?

Lately I’ve been doing more art live-streams on Twitch. I work on “Veggiemancer” on some of them. People tune in and I’ll ask them questions, and they’ll make suggestions for what I’m working on. It’s a really fun back-and-forth, and it’s nice to have a bunch of people there to help me out.

That’s so cool to have that kind of community.

Yeah, I think stuff like that is gonna be the future of online cartoons and comics. People building a community on platforms like Twitch. And with Patreon and Kickstarter, it’s so cool that a community can directly support a creator to work on their own projects. It’s also great to make drawing interactive; I’ll have a mic on and a webcam on, so people can kind of put a face to the art. It makes it more personal, and I think more relatable.

What are your favorite cartoons?

If I had to pick one as an all-time favorite, I’d have to say Avatar: The Last Airbender. I love that it has this huge story arc and that the characters develop as the seasons progress. Even just how they change in appearance—it spends time on every character, giving them all their own subplots and growth. And it has fantastic humor as well. To me, it’s just the perfect show.

Have to agree on that! What are your other hobbies, outside of art?

Aquascaping is one of my big hobbies: arranging live plants in a fish tank. It’s creating a totally natural environment for the fish - so no plastic decorations. Only aquatic plants and materials like driftwood. It’s a really nice way to bring nature into the home, and it’s definitely a side passion of mine. Even while I’m working and drawing, I’ll constantly be researching it and trying to learn more.

Follow @justinchan on Tumblr and Instagram (@justinchans)

Thank you for the interview Justin! I’m excited to keep track of your many awesome projects.

- Cooper

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serenamantra · 6 years

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The most tiring days of my life had finally came; paperworks, internships, exams, requirements, time management, college board work and the list goes on. And you really know what hyped everyone else? Cause above all the things that I'm doing as a graduating student, I can still mothafucking drink every night! Hahahahahaha

I started having my internship at the Senior Highschool Guidance Office. As a psychology major student we have to work for our 200 hours in the educational setting and industrial setting for the 1st semester. And you know what makes it worst? Sabay sa practicum/internship ang thesis 2 namin. Yaaaa. First stop, I screwed my internship in the senior highschool guidance office, I'm really not into group works and group projects, because sometimes may mga pabibo na gusto ng gawin lahat and then you'll end doing nothing and then ikaw yung magrereport and such. Ganern mga galawan nila. If I can work with it, I just want a part that I'm going to do and I don't want anyone else disturbing my work. Bem helped to overcome this bad trait I have and made me have patience for everyone. 5 psych people kasi kaming nagwowork sa senior highschool guidance office and then there's bitch charot na graduating na siya last semester and the only thing she's working on is her internship, it sounds really unfair kasi she has a lot of free time to have her duty and minimal lang nagagawa namin kasi nga siya na gumagawa ng lahat tapos sakanya pa lahat ng oras. So, nagsumbong ako sa professor namin sa practicum and right after she finished her internship I let her get out of my freaking way. (Too much cussing, I'm sorry) And naiwan kami ni Bem so we get to really be close with the guidance counselors because we get to share our downtimes and plans we have for future. It turned pretty well naman in the end.

(Sorry for the low quality of the photo. I didn’t get the chance to have original photo)

Next stop, industrial setting! For the thing that happened to my educational internship, I worked hard and pursue doing my best for this field of work. I really had fun and I really get to experience the things that is possible for me to do when I work as a human resources personnel. In the morning I have school, our thesis gathering and work on my intern for assisting walk-in applicants and them worked up until 7 in the evening because I still have to file some datas and then lakwatsa after, charot. In lasted until the last days of October and we still have thesis to work on so talagang nakakapagod maging graduating student. Pero in the end, I had fun and loved the work even if its stressing cause sometimes I did all the work but I loved it. We always like some spice to every experience right?

Internship's done! And we fought for our friendship and for our thesis, literally. I really don't want to share what I meant about the "we fought for our friendship" because its so much drama and what happened is just for us because it made our friendship stronger. We are so glad that we passed our thesis and it got accepted. I am so happy that we are conquering graduating life step by step.

Second Semester! In this part, being one of the college board took all my energy. Balik na tayo sa normal and balik din tayo sa school works and what I meant sa school works is meron na ulit kaming mga subjects that we have to pass para makagraduate. It took all my energy kasi aside from all the sleepless nights kami kami lang din yung magwowork hard para makagraduate lahat. We had different subjects na di naman connected for psychology pero we have to take it to march on march because of the school's fucked up educational system.

We went to the climb Mt. Isarog and we fixed the school's botanical garden. My parents were asking nga if I shifted to another course because why the hell am I gardening kung ang pinagaaralan ko dapat eh yung human behavior and theories and all. But I'm still happy about it. Nature makes everyone at peace and everyone get to know how people are so cruel sa mundong ibabaw and even underground. Our environmental science professor told us that we really have to face the ever changing cycle of the world like nakaplanong mawala talaga ang mga dinosaurs sa mundo and every other animal because they are bond to extinctions, in short wala talagang forever. And there is one thing din na tumatak sakin from him; Its that we the people who are born in this world have the survival instinct, kung di mo kayang mabuhay sa mundong ibabaw then its better na maging pataba ka nalang ng mundo.

Photos I took using Sam’s camera. I didn’t get to know the camera but here’s a glimpse of the photos.

And yes of course, I had a commitment with my best friend, Celine and her thesismates. She's an AB Comm student and despite of having thesis papers, they should have a short film and they got me to be their actor! I didn't know that they have got to see in me that I can be an actor (which is btw really funny). It took all of my time and energy because we get to shoot every night, without break times and we are really not good actors so we can go up to take 20 or more. Many things happened through that time pero I am so happy that I grew more friends and see how big the world is and I'm sad also because they didn't pass their thesis but syempre ginawan ng paraan para lahat ng pagod mapunta sa pag graduate. And then everyone is happy! Kasi for us, you get to go the lowest of lowest to the highest of highest together.

My sched that time was so frightening, I didn't get to do much because after shooting, kasi if we can't finish it up umaabot kami ng 2 in the morning kakahabol ng oras and ng night time. Tapos we can rest tapos pasok na kinabukasan. Imagine nag report ako sa isang subject nun 8 in the morning tapos wala akong tulog. Nagattend ako ng BRAPS nun na wala din tulog. Kaya sobrang nakakaloka pero worth it. Here’s our photos together, the new found friends:

This guy, his name is Jay Ilao and he’s my co-actor. Sorry I can’t find a decent picture of us. We are really not that close to take a lot of photos HAHAHAHA

But the good thing is, nakagraduate ako! I'm so happy na there's always ups and downs tapos you can get over it by yourself and with others. Sometimes you'll get to say na sukong suko kana sa binibigay sayo ng buhay but for me, you just have to look everything in a positive way and then makakayanan mo na ulit bumangon.

(Next post: Graduation day! Obligatory post for my parents, friends and loved ones for being with me through out my college life!)

Late post.. Nyehehe

#collegelife #photos

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davidjjohnston3 · 3 years

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I ask again that you not share the Tumblr with MVJ as he uses all knowledge of me against me or to imitate / try to be me rather than MVJ. I ask the same w/r/t MJ / Michael, as he resents me for various reasons to do with manipulation-leadership (such as telling him in '09 that I felt that I was going to be a doctor someday in order to hearten / give him morale when he was anguished over job-searching in the Great Recession). I do things like this because of a film called "Late Spring" a masterpiece by the Japanese director who inspired the Taiwanese auteur about whom I wrote my RU senior thesis and met Rebecca Hu who inspired me to work hard, get that Singapore job, meet Kate again in '07 in NYC, promise her in '08 I would struggle / fight / work for 3 years to become someone deserving of her (hand in marriage if not just friendship), which is also part of why I made that '08-09 deal with Dad that culminated in me going to MTTP in Madison, meeting Chi Hye, falling in love with this gold light in her eyes, believing in angels and mountains and "They shall mount up as eagles and not stub their toe" (Isaiah), meeting Josephine Park at 7-Step and everyone else, getting promoted to Head Developer in 6 months, then quitting b/c of a falling out I had on that night I called you after 6 months' radio silence. IDK if you want to hear this but I wanted to marry Josephine / "LitGirl." I thanked her for helping me. IDK if you care about this she flirted with me partly by showing armpit-stubble in the summer of 2010 and I understood this because I understand "Korean American literature." She might be the most beautiful perfect ideal "jeongdakhan" (kind of 'suitable,,' or, 'spec') woman I ever met. She went to Seoul National U. which is Korea's no.1 university and worked for an elite newspaper before taking some time off to write - she loves Emily Dickinson and, I believe, Park Wanseo, who wrote my favorite Korean short story "That Girl's House" about a promised couple in Japanese-occupied Korea who are separated by the girl's father's paranoia about Gop Dan's becoming a comfort woman and sold to be a farmer's bride in what becomes North Korea rather than marrying the "village prince" or aspiring scholar, who wants her to come away with him to Seoul... Josephine or "Jeongeun" (which kind of means perhaps "emotion-grace" or arguably "central grace" - Josephine means "love will increase" BTW and is the name of Jo from Little Women; the name she chose for herself) looks a bit like Lee Yowon the aspiring girl who gets plastic surgery in "Take Care of My Cat" and a bit like Seo Juhyun / Catherine Seo / Seohyun the youngest member of Girls Generation who was known for her probity, "Holy Seohyun" who was no. 2 in her HS before becoming the "maknae" or "final inner" / youngest and most beloved member of the nation's best-ever girl-group. FWIW, I used to write to Seohyun on Twitter as well but she never replied. On around the time of the sinking of the MV Sewol she wrote "we cried till our eyes dried" or so and used the word "huisaeng" to describe the victims which actually can mean "sacrifice." I wrote to Seohyun using a quote from Dante Alighieri about beauty and pure thoughts or pure minds since I read "New Life / Vita Nuova" and "Heaven / Paradiso" in KR. "Catherine" incidentally means "purity" as well. 2. On that night I first called you in 2011 I was out at a place with JEP and when I got back from our long phonecall she proceeded to get really drunk with foreigners I disliked from a hagwon I dislike throwing back soju and ultimately writing on the ladies' room floor throwing up. Danny Shin asked me to go in to the BR to comfort / talk with her so I did. I told her we should leave even before she got really drunk but she wouldn't obey me. KJ Park arrived and said "ireona" (get up bitch) and she did. I cursed in front of KJ Park since I felt I was being used as her crying-blankie and exploited to help her cope but never extricate from the situation. I later had a slight heart-attack when I found out they were having an affair even as JE flirted with other men and used them I see now as "honey-trap" and to spy on all the employees. I feel like this is the last time I will try to communicate open with you about why I am the way I am why I do what I do. Back in 2008 you told me to use more kindness but where does that go? It's good for little kids. Anyway before my heart-attack on that night - which impelled me to stop participating for a while in good faith with 7-Step's accelerated curriculum program working on Saturdays (which I had done happily before that) - I had been incredibly optimistic and at the same time "wise" in the "soi sage" sense reading Flaubert's last completed novel, which you might like one day, "L'Education Sentimentale" (accurately translated as "Emotional Education" since "Sentiment" sounds Victorian and sentimentality is an Anglo or Anglo-Korean category, saccharine in a way which French love and emotion are not). I also later visited Cheonan her hometown which means "Heaven's Peace." I walked around and years later wanted to write a novel called "Cheonan Sky" which is about the sinking of a ROKN frigate / destroyer / corvette called the ROKS Cheonan in 2010 but a North Korean suicide micro-submarine. The captain of the ROKS Cheonan never retired basically but became a military analyst for I believe either KJAD or 38North out of entailments or legacy-obligations to his men. The theme of "Cheonan Sky" is family killing family (the Korean War / civil war in general within a nation), terrorism, capital punishment by electrocution. The ending is that the hero committed acts of 1st degree murder and terrorism and is dressed by his wife for execution after donating semen / sperm so she can have a child after his death. You might or might not be interested to know but "Cheonan" in Chinese characters is I believe "Tian'an'" like Tiananmen Square. When I asked Josephine to teach me some Korean she said "Miryang" which means "secret sunshine" that is actually the name of a city as well a movie but known for the gang-rape of an elementary school girl. 3. This is kind of why I'm interested in terrorism, assassination, North Korean Studies, and also why I didn't know how to read people's sign about "covering love," concealing or forgiving crimes et cetera; covering sins. I associate JEP for some reason with Russian blues and mother-of-pearl since I looked at a wedding ring which was mother-of-pearl and diamond in 2011. In retrospect I have no idea whether she was interested in me or not or how willing she would have been to partner with me as opposed to KJ or Danny Shin or anyone else. I won't say anything more because I don't oppose women being that way 100% although the Book of Proverbs does say not to prostitute your daughter and a British Victorian Evangelical PM used to walk the streets of London pleading with hookers to get honest if low-paying jobs (WE Gladstone who also said politics succeeds ultimately through "not love of power but power of love" a saying I associate these days with Mike Pompeo) I have come close to imprisonment and/or death lately from trying to be open w/ people in America so this is literally I ardently wish my last freebie w/r/t "teaching" people but the existence of people like Josephine also seems to bind me to SK or KR. There is simply no way I can not go back someday. When that ferry sank I saw an article about a foreigner graveyard in Incheon and felt what Shakespeare felt near the end of his life which was a desire beyond or parallel to after life to donate his bones to a certain plot of land. I foolishly or heedlessly confessed this reality to Mi who became depressed and my words started to go over his head. IDK if you want to know this but I worked for a long time on a novel about the MV Sewol called "Flowers on Water" or "Flowers 1881" which is about the sovereignty of God in the deaths or waste of children as well as "It Is Well with My Soul," Chancellor / Pastor John Piper, the drowning of paedophiles in prison or others who abuse or exploit young people, and my own responsibility for failing as an HS teacher. IDK if you remember but the guy who owned the MV Sewol which sank due to unlawful loading of the hull with equipment was found decapitated with a backpack full of money in a field of maize, I believe. There are those who believe including me that KR is not really a democracy but run by the KCIA or and/or through an organization called "One Company" or so that includes numerous military dictators, officers, many of whom used to be teachers though some were also associated with the terrorist-student radical organization (the ShiShi) that produced the Meiji Restoration and the Empire of Japan -> WW2 Pacific since the Japanese were determined not to let American "gunboat diplomacy" lead to cultural genocide or everlasting hegemony of the West over either JP or the total Far East. My last thing to you is just that there are those who believe the imperial family of JP who were restored to supremacy in gov't by the ShiShi after centuries of formalistic ritualitsic formalistic ceremonial "Chinese" rule are partly Korean in blood and Koreans themselves believe in "Minjung Theology" saying Koreans have a holy destiny worldwide which is something I believe as well. You can be 10,000% honest with me about your intentions from now on BTW. IDK if I can get back to KR now, a year from now, or in a coffin. It depends on money I guess. As I reflected in my previous e-mail after my born again prayer in 2004 when I wished for unity (in the field across the street from Marshall School) I eventually got that unity around 2012 when Dad said he would work sacrificially to fix me up following my suicide-attempt and in 2013 when I told Jaeyoung that I wanted to be a principal I precipitated or incubated a process leading up to the Lead Teacher position I was offered a few months back as well as Concordia's interest in my application for their Educational Leadership doctorate. If you want to read one more book by a Korean I urge "The Fourth Dimension" by Rev. Dr. David YongGi Cho, the pastor of a church called Yoido or Yeouido Full Gospel which claims some 500,000 members though Dr. Cho has been indicted for embezzlement and there are those who would doubt his belief in miracle faith-healing or in God's defending people from things like head-first suicide-attempts. As my student once said to me, "Thank you for everything" DJJ PS again if you like music I rec. "Marvel Not That Christ in Glory" - "Christ in p/POWER Resurrection / calling many sons to glory" - as well as a pop-song called "Please Remember Me" by a girl-group known as Year 7 Class 1 or 7-1. It is a slow ballad but the central refrain is "yaksokhae uri... kkok mannayo..." (Let us promise to meet again rapidly / immediately)...

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