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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

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A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could - you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him. “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

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neo-shitty · 3 years

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toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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codedredalert · 3 years

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this might be odd but i really admire your work for law in that op zine and was wondering how you'd manage to come across zines to apply for because it's hard to filter through results on twt and hard to find exactly who is doing what

hey anon, thank you so much! i'm really happy with how that law fic turned out, glad you like it!

not odd at all, i agree it's hard to filter zines! let's see if i can help. this got a bit long bc i misread the question and talked about finding zines to apply for as well as generally what i keep in mind when choosing what zines i apply to so im putting it under a cut

best generally / for fandoms you're already deep in/ fandoms you're less invested in and just happen to think are neat if they pop up. for the op tarot zine, and most zines i applied to/ got into, usually i heard about via word of mouth. so that's reblogs of the promo posts or casual mentions from people I follow, or discord servers, or just chats with friends in that fandom. i like this method because it's the lowest effort and highest likelihood of matching my interests and having the apps still open, and they tend to be a little more reliable bc you already have one layer of someone checking them out/ vouching for them. (but bear in mind i'm also someone who mostly only reads recommended fics from friends whose taste i'm familiar with)

second best/ new fandoms/ fandoms you're not established in. here we have to actually search (boooooo) (i'm lazy lol). you can still use the first method a little bit by searching on the page/blog of a creator you like in that fandom, because that helps filter a bit for interests/ style/ taste/ reliability. i also searched [fandom name] zine or variations. so like "#ygozine" or"yugioh zine" when I was looking for yugioh zines to join. then i consider the application open ones to see if i like the theme, and whether the other details work for me (eg amount of work expected, schedule, rules, faqs, charity/profit, mods, physical/digital only etc).

zine promo / app amalgamation sites. it's pretty easy to find them by looking at existing zines promo posts and seeing the amalgamation blogs/accounts they tag. i don't really use them that much so i can't really recommend specific ones, and the ones i know don't sort easily by fandom or deadline stage, so it's too much work for me personally. i might browse them a little to try my luck but it's the highest effort for the lowest reward. still worth a shot if you can define your search terms well or are willing to trawl. I'd try by just searching the fandom confined to the blog/page. (on tumblr you can do this by adding "/search/[fandom name or shortname]" to the end of the URL.)

very established in a fandom/ willing to ask randomly. you might get invited or someone might drop you an ask saying hey check this zine out they're looking for writers/ other types of creators. you can also just do a general post asking for help like "does anyone know of any zines for [fandom] that are open to apps?" personally and from what i gather from friends, just because they're recommendations doesn't mean that they will necessarily match what you look for in projects but they're worth checking out bc the person recommending usually has some idea of your likes/style/fit. this method has a lot of constraints obviously.

when applying... it may be worthwhile to consider why you're interested in joining, what they are looking for, how many slots they have for what kind of creators, how popular the zine is, what you "specialise" in for the fandom, what your best skills are, what the mods might be looking for (most if not all zines require you to submit sample work). tailor your application. of course, not all zines take writers so your options here might be a little limited (though i'm happy to say i feel like including writing is becoming more common). at the same time, a lot of people underestimate themselves, so definitely apply if you want to even if you feel you might not get in. i think this is probably not what you're asking about though so i wont belabour the point

be careful. i have had the good fortune to have only been in "okay" to "amazing 10/10 extremely trustworthy" zines so far (fingers crossed), but i do have a couple of friends who were burned by dishonest or unreliable zine management before, so do take care! you can save yourself a lot of heartache at the stage when you check out the zine you are applying to. some general indicators for me are whether mod skills cover necessary categories (zines are essentially a business venture and i feel like a lot of people underestimate or do not give enough respect to that); mod experience, age, personal reputations; how questions, rules, schedule, expectations, compensation/charity are addressed. Also these are after joining, but mod treatment of contributors via email or in the discord server and how assignments are handled are early enough that you can form your own assessment and drop if necessary.

take care of yourself also i feel like in these trying times i want to add a note on mental health. i see this too often in my friends, but if your personal circumstances change and you feel like you can't handle the zine obligations anymore, just drop. early is better than late for both you and the organiser, and respectful communication of "sorry i can't be part of the zine anymore for personal reasons" is totally fine. you don't have to disclose anything you don't want to in order to leave and no one can force you to. it's also okay if you don't get into a zine. it doesn't say anything about your worth as a person, even though we as creators can feel rejection of our work very deeply. take time to recover, block/mute/unfollow whatever keywords or accounts you have to for even the tiniest of arbitrary reasons (i absolutely do and highly recommend it), take time to nurture your skills, take time to make things that bring joy, take time to appreciate yourself and the people who like your work. maybe i'm just old/lucky but fandom has been an incredibly accepting and enjoyable place and rejection from a zine (though it can hurt like a bitch sometimes) is not rejection from the community.

i hope this was helpful!

#red replies #red talks #long post #zines

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songfell-ut · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2, bc this is happening

Yo. I’m charging ahead on this project because I’m a terrible mother and my kid is getting a lot of (educational) screen time during the day while my husband works from home and I get this written. It remains based on this comic by @lostmypotatoes. It’s so long that I split off the end and it’s mutating into Chapter 3. Lots of talking, with Stuff to come of it very soon, no worries.

Now featuring a cut! Thanks (what’s an easy nickname for you? “Lost”? “‘Tatoes?”) for the tip on how to very easily do that.

Lastly, I have login shenanigans to deal with, and have been chatting with Lost (?) using @ikustioa on my phone, so I suppose that’s my blogging/personal handle now. Anyway, here we go:

Three nights later, Sans woke with a jerk. Someone in the next room was sobbing. It wasn't a memory or nightmare, he realized a moment later, and it wasn't the priestess; it was a small child, crying so hard that it could barely breathe. Steeling himself, the boss monster slid out of bed and listened intently.

He heard a woman whisper something, and the child's sobs quieted as a familiar sound came through the door. It was the same humming that had de-powered his blaster the other day, though not the same tune. The skeleton took a moment to be sure that the glow in his eyes was out, then cracked the bedroom door open.

Frisk was kneeling, bare-headed, with her arms around a little boy of perhaps eight or nine years. In the light of one lamp on the worktable, Sans saw a dark patch of blood in the child's hair. Frisk glanced at the skeleton, giving him a wan smile, still humming. Sans closed the door enough that the child wouldn't see him.

The priestess waited till the boy had calmed down to the occasional sniffle, then leaned back and reached for something on the table. "I've got a treat for you," she said cheerfully. "Do you like peppermint?"

The child thought it over, and nodded.

"Wonderful, because that's exactly what this is. You'll feel better in no time." She held out a glass bottle. "You can have three big swallows, but only three, all right?"

Well played, Sans thought, framing it as something he got to have, not something he had to take. Sure enough, the little boy gulped it right down, smacking his lips as the young woman retrieved the bottle. "Good. Can you do something very important for me?" she asked. Nod, nod. "Can you lie down and count to one hundred? That'll make the magic work better. Let's go to my office."

The child went with her quite willingly. After a few minutes, the High Priestess re-emerged into Sans' field of vision. Her pleasant expression was gone, replaced with one that actually made him feel a little sorry for whoever had pissed her off. Then he remembered the blood on the kid's head. "Anybody you want me ta kill?" he asked through the door.

"Don't tempt me." Frisk jerked a sheet of paper from a stack on the desk, grabbed a pen, and began writing rapidly.

Sans checked the time. "God damn, what's that kid doing awake at two in the morning?"

"Being beaten." The pen scratched viciously across the page.

He decided to shut up. Frisk soon finished the message, blew the ink dry and folded the paper in thirds, then sealed it and marched to the outer door, where she woke up the guard on duty. Sans heard her reaming the guy about doing his job properly, serving a writ, and not letting a guy out of the castle. She came back in, only to return to the office.

This seemed to be typical for her, as far as Sans could tell, though it usually wasn't this dramatic or this late at night. If she wasn't off at church or giving him lessons, she was talking to someone who needed help and apparently couldn't get it elsewhere. He had yet to see her do something for fun, or sleep more than five hours at a time.

Meanwhile, his daily routine had been surprisingly low-key. The first day, after being flagrantly mind-controlled into agreeing to stay, he'd eaten some more, then slept for another dreamless twenty-four hours. The next morning, she'd let him have another pile of food, then started his apprenticeship by showing him the most common ingredients for potions and how to identify them by sight, as he couldn't smell and didn't have much sense of touch. Yesterday had been a review, emphasizing that a mistake could literally kill someone, and she'd given him a book of basic recipes, asking him to make a list of any ingredients he found that she hadn't already introduced.

It was kind of annoying to have homework, and he was starting to get cabin fever, but otherwise, the whole experience hadn't been too terrible. He was relieved and disappointed that she kept the veil on almost all the time, which reduced the distraction somewhat, though she persisted in having a fantastic shape, and he was really starting to enjoy the sound of her voice. When he could focus enough to ask questions, she was patient and encouraging, and let him use all the paper he wanted to write down the answers. She was obviously pleased that he cared enough to take notes, though not in a smug or irritating way; it just made her happy, and that made him...not unhappy.

It was also still novel to talk to a human who wasn't afraid of him. He hadn't seen many humans up here besides the little boy, and figured they were forbidden to come into her rooms unless they desperately needed help, or could sneak past a sleeping guard. That was fine with Sans, though he'd overheard one cleaning lady being so persistent that he really wanted to come out of the bedroom and tell her to piss off. Unsurprisingly, Frisk had asked him to not do that.

There were only a few real mysteries so far. One was a pile of letters she'd brought in on the second day and tossed into a basket of also-unopened envelopes standing by the roaring fireplace in her workshop. He'd caught her looking at the basket a couple of times, as if debating whether to burn them all, but she never did it, or opened any in front of him.

The biggest question was how she knew he could teleport, and the nature of his blue magic, even if was getting more red than blue these days. He had unthinkingly used the latter to grab a couple things yesterday, and his magic had almost immediately died out. He didn't know exactly how she was doing it, but her barriers weren't just blocking him in: they kept his power so muted that he couldn't have summoned a single bone. It seemed that he'd be allowed to use some magic to make the actual potions, and that was it.

Well, there was time to worry about that later. The injured kid had made him think of Kris again, which made him think of the book passage Frisk had quoted at him. He'd have to ask if she...wait, no, he didn't have to ask. She'd given him carte blanche to read anything he found in her bedroom or workshop. Sans tapped the nearest witchlight on, noting that it was much weaker than the ones Underground, and started perusing the shelves.

Fifteen minutes later, Frisk knocked on the door, waiting for him to grunt acknowledgement before she came in. "I'm sorry for waking you," she said, dropping into her chair with a deep sigh. "There's going to be hell to pay in the morning."

She did look like hell, with bags under her eyes and a smear of blood on her cheek. Sans put the book down and tapped his own face, and she got the hint, rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand. "Ugh. That poor child." She sighed again, curling up and resting her head on the arm of the chair. "I'll wash up in a minute."

"Didn't you just get back from a thing?" he asked, wondering if she was always this cavalier about bodily fluids.

"Yes. His Holiness decided we needed more midnight services, and I have to be there every other night." She rubbed her eyes. "Flynn must have followed me back here. People aren't supposed to know where I live, but word is spreading. At this rate, I'll have to move again."

Sans drummed his fingertips on the bedpost. She'd found an oversized stool to use in the workshop, but there were no armchairs big enough for him, so he spent most of his leisure time on the bed. "Bein' High Priestess sucks. How long ya been at it?"

"Three years. The last Thea was assassinated, and they had to find a replacement as fast as possible. Out of all the minor priestesses available, I was the only one who passed all the tests. It's been...instructive."

"Hm." That didn't surprise him. A human strong enough to block a boss monster's focused attack had to be pretty rare. "How old are ya, anyway?" he asked, suddenly curious.

Her eyes shut. "Twenty-two. I was educated in a convent, ordained at sixeen, High Priestess at nineteen." A mighty yawn was partly hidden in her arm. "Lucky me."

Sans didn't know much about humans, but he was pretty sure that was young as hell for so much responsibility. The problem was that she was good enough to handle it, which meant they'd pile on more and more until she went nuts. "Nah, it sucks ta be you. Any way you can get out of it?"

"Well," she mumbled, eyes still closed, "I can die, or marry, or go back to the convent and become the Mother Superior, which would also be until I die." Frisk yawned again. "The Feast of All Saints is next week. That's when the last High Priestess was murdered."

Something prickled up Sans' spine. "You spend all yer time doin' church stuff, kissing babies and healin' puppies or whatever. Why the hell would anyone wanna kill you?"

"I meant it when I said I have influence in the Church and at court. I don't hate monsters, which is inconvenient for several people, and I'm not quiet about it, which is extremely inconvenient for many more of them. Besides, my natural father is very wealthy, and his other childr—"

"'Natural' father?" he queried. "What, do some humans have unnatural kids?"

Her eyes opened. She looked lovely in the soft light, but troubled and sad, so much that he wished he hadn't asked. "I'm illegitimate. My father never married my mother, and our life was...bad. Very hard, for a very long time." The priestess rubbed her fingertips together, as if seeing more dried blood. "He was a very busy man, but he only has one legitimate heir. After his second wife died, he started tracking down his children born out of wedlock, and it's an open secret that he'll leave each of us a large amount after he passes."

"And whoever's left gets a bigger piece of the pie?" Sans guessed.

"Exactly. As far as I know, there were fourteen or fifteen of us, but magic runs in his side of the family, and most of his children became sorcerers. Almost all of my half-brothers have been killed fighting monsters. Two of my half-sisters blew up in an experiment that went wrong. There are only six of us left, including the—his heir."

Sans' eyes narrowed. "What is it with humans an' explodin' stuff by accident?"

He couldn't read the look on her face. "If we knew the answer to that, history would have taken a much better course."

Of course, that made him think of Kris again. It seemed pretty inevitable, so he might as well ask... "I don't s'pose," he mumbled, "there's a record of the humans who went t'the Underground on that last trip? Maybe what happened to 'em after they got back?"

Frisk raised her head a little. "That depends. We know exactly which nobles, sorcerers, and other dignitaries attended. Do you mean one of them?"

"Nah, this was a servant, I think. Prob'ly. I dunno." The skeleton felt his eyes lighting up again. "He was only 4 or 5. S'comin' up on thirteen years ago, so he'd'a grown up by now."

The priestess frowned. "No one that young was in attendance, so far as I know, and I've read every account that I could find. May I ask why you want to know?"

"Nah." Sans flexed his hand around the bedpost. "Forget it."

Frisk sighed, carving a design into the plush chair with her thumbnail. "Well, I'm afraid the answer is no. There's no record of the servants who came along, except the ones who were killed, and that didn't include any children. You'd have to check with each of the—" She sat up. "Wait. I know someone who was there—my mother. Do you want me to ask her?"

"Hell yes, I do!" Sans' hand tightened, splintering the bedpost. He guiltily released it. "Did she talk much about it? What all did she tell ya? Can I ask 'er a coupla things?"

The priestess laughed, quieting him with a wave of her hand. "Sans, please! She's been very sick recently, and I don't want to excite her too much. I will ask her anything you need to know, thank you. And yes, she talked about it to anyone who'd listen. She's the one who told me all about monsters, and what you're actually like."

Sans sat forward, but she forestalled more questions with another gesture. "First, her name is Rosa. Did you ever meet her?"

It did sound familiar. "I think so. Little, blonde, wore her hair up?"

"That's her. She would've been in charge of any children they brought along, but she never mentioned any of them to me." Frisk tapped her finger on the chair arm. "She did say there were things she wasn't allowed to talk about. She worked for the Duke as a nurse, and she would never disobey him."

He wondered for a moment if that meant the guy was Frisk's father, but was too excited to dwell on it. "What'd she say about us?" he asked curiously.

Frisk hesitated. "Well...she didn't talk very much with individual monsters, but she said the Queen was very kind and made sure to tell each of the humans how glad she was to have them visit. The King was also very courteous. He tried his best not to frighten anyone, and he thought it was rude that the servants weren't allowed to eat with the nobles."

Sans' foot started tapping. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he reluctantly stopped. "Who else?" he demanded.

The next moment, they both heard the office door open into the workshop. "Miss?" came a plaintive voice.

Frisk was at the bedroom door in an instant. "What is it, Flynn?" She closed the door most of the way.

Damn it all to hell. Sans grumpily listened to the child explain that he'd scratched his head and sorry, there was blood on the couch now. Frisk explained that wounds got itchy as they healed, and to please not scratch it, and that it would be much better to wipe his hands on the towel she'd put down than on the furniture. Then he had to be cleaned up again and a bigger bandage applied, and someone was sent for to take the boy somewhere he could sleep safely.

A thought stabbed at him as he listened to the proceedings: that was how she knew he could teleport and zip things around without touching them. King Asgore had insisted the monsters show off their powers in various amusing ways so that the humans would be less afraid of their magic. Sans thought it was a bad idea at the time, and look what came of it!

Frisk eventually came back to the bedroom, drying her hands on her skirt. "Let's cut t'the chase," Sans said quietly as she sat down. "Did she tell ya about any skeletons?"

"Yes." Frisk folded her hands and looked straight at him. "Two brothers, Sans and Papyrus."

Sans laced his fingers together to avoid accidentally destroying anything else. "And...?"

"She liked them very much," Frisk said calmly, "especially Papyrus. Sans was friendly, but she said he watched their every move, and it made them nervous." The priestess smoothed her skirt over her knees. "Papyrus was a joy to be around. He was very full of himself, but there wasn't a mean bone in his body, and he considered it his duty to welcome the humans as much as possible. My mother talked about him more than any other monster." She coughed. "Apparently, his spaghetti was terrible."

"...Sounds about right."

Frisk looked at him sharply. "I wanted to ask you about that, but...are you all right?"

Sans couldn't answer. He'd avoided thinking too much about home, especially the fact that he'd already been gone for a week when he got caught. It'd been easy to tell himself that he could always bust out of here if he needed to, or that the lady would let him send a message or even go have a quick visit before coming back here, but...

"Are you Papyrus' brother?" Frisk asked.

"Yeah," he ground out.

The priestess shook her head. "I don't understand. R—Mother said that Sans was shorter than any of the humans who came to the Underground, and the only boss monsters mentioned in the official histories are Asgore and Toriel. Can you tell me what happened? I wasn't sure if you were the same skeleton, you seem so diff—"

"A lot of shit happened, that's what." Sans lurched to his feet, and she had to tip her head back to look up at him. His sockets were glowing again. "Ya know what? I'm tired, an' you look like crap. Time for night-night." He jerked the door open, rattling the hinges. "Good luck cleanin' up. Blood's a bitch to get out. Trust me, I know."

She rose quietly, folding her hands in the style he recognized from the very first time he'd seen her. "All right, then. Good night, Sans," she said, and walked past him, out of the room.

He didn't slam the doors shut behind her, but it was pretty close.

Once she had control of herself again, Frisk wiped her eyes and resumed scrubbing the couch. She kept glancing underneath it, and as she threw yet another towel into the laundry basket, she decided, To hell with it, and pulled the couch aside. A nearly invisible seam in the floor showed where a board could be pried up to access her hidden safe. There was no lid, no lock, and no key, just a solid golden film that vanished when she pressed her thumb into its center.

The High Priestess surveyed the contents: several tight-folded papers, a bag of high-value dinar, a sack of silver ingots, a few pieces of jewelry, and a small box. She selected the box and removed its rosewood lid to reveal a tiny glass orb, something swirling around on its surface like smoke. She stared at it for so long that her knees began aching, but she didn't notice. Her vision blurred again, and she jammed the lid back on the little box, shoving everything back into the safe, re-sealing it, thumping the floorboard into place and pushing the couch back. Not today, she told herself fiercely. She didn't care what Sans said or how he acted. It couldn't be worth it. Nothing could!

The next day, after a late breakfast, Frisk quizzed him on the differences between various herbs and powdered animal bits and their uses; they looked over the list he'd made of new ingredients, going through the recipes and identifying how each item worked in each potion. That was the first time she demonstrated how to mix and infuse something, and the first time she warned him, "You have to be careful how you feel when you make potions. Intent is always important when you're using magic—you fully intend to cause damage, and I fully intend to protect, which is why we're good at what we do, yes?"

He shrugged philosophically, and she half-smiled. "Well," she continued, "it's similar when you're making something for someone else to take. If you're in a foul mood and you want to cause harm, or you simply don't want the person to get better, you might as well be concocting poison, or giving them water. Of course, your feelings don't matter if you're just throwing herbs into a pot, but these work as well as they do because you're putting a tiny bit of yourself into it. You have to make sure that it's a good bit."

"Pretty sure all my bits are bad by now," Sans remarked. "How's about I make some poison instead?"

Frisk shook her head, leaning over the table. "No one is all bad, Sans. Here." She took the glass stirrer out of the miniature cauldron bubbling away in the middle of their workspace. "I'll infuse it now. Watch."

He did observe closely as she bent forward, though probably not the way she'd intended; he just made sure he was looking at the potion when she glanced up at him. "Try thinking of someone you care for, and imagine it's for them." She opened her hand over the cauldron and, to his surprise, let out a low whistle, piercingly sweet.

A mote of light drifted from her palm and settled into the mixture. It seemed to sparkle for a moment, then resumed being a potion. When he concentrated, though, he could feel a little tingle of magic in it. "I won't ask you to try it till you have better control of your emotions," she said. "Right now, you're so angry that I don't know what would happen."

A different note had crept into her voice. Sans shifted his bony weight on the stool. "S'not like I can help it."

"Perhaps," she said. "You probably don't even notice it anymore. It's become a part of you, through whatever stuff has happened since the humans left the Underground. And before you ask, my mother is ill again. We can't speak with her until she's better."

There it was; he'd wondered if she was going to pretend he'd never snapped at her. "Well, you can only ask me so many personal questions before I get touchy, lady. Frisk." He tapped the worktable a couple of times. "Look, I know ya have a lot on yer plate, an' havin' to deal with me isn't much help. I just want t'know...is there any way to tell the others I'm not dead or somethin'? My brother's gotta be out of his mind by now, and I don' want someone comin' after me and gettin' caught."

Frisk shook her head, and his SOUL sank to the floor. "I'm sorry, Sans, but that's out of the question," she said, soft but firm. "Our King has forbidden any humans from coming within a day's walk of the entrance to the Underground, and let's be very honest—what would happen if a human came up to you out of nowhere and said they had an important message to give the monsters?"

Sans' jaw clenched so hard that the priestess put her hand out, not quite touching his arm. "Sans, please. If there was any way to—"

"Forget it, okay? Just...never mind." The skeleton glared at the windows facing out from the workroom. Like everything else in this damn place, they were too small for him to fit more than his head through. He'd gone through this in his own mind a dozen times: even if he could break through the wood and stone, he could sense the barrier set behind the wall to block his shortcuts. The one along the outside wall was heavier than the ones in the bedroom, which were permeable, purely there to track his movements. It was debatable whether this one could be physically broken with...something, but the moment he tried, she would know he was trying and stop him with a stronger barrier.

Hmm. What if...what if he waited till she wasn't here and couldn't get back in time to stop him? If he broke through when she was distracted, and far enough away – say, doing her church stuff in the middle of the night – then there wouldn't be much she could do. He could escape and decide later whether he wanted to come back or—

Wait. Come back? What the hell was he thinking? Why would he choose to be locked up by any human? No matter how pretty, and gutsy, and sweet and nice-voiced and...

Crap.

Anyway. He wouldn't come back. He'd have to be sure to grab his notes and a few books for Alphys; Frisk could always get more copies. He already had plenty to report to King Asgore, though he felt a little uneasy about letting ol' Gorey know that the most powerful barrier-making human was a determined sorceress whose SOUL could probably make you invincible. Actually, he felt a lot uneasy. Maybe he'd keep that to himself for now.

Too bad he couldn't bring her with him...

"...ans. Sans?" Frisk was touching his radius. She'd lifted her veil, large brown eyes turned up to his. "Are you all right?"

Sans studied her for a long moment, reflecting that Papyrus had always wanted a pet. The idea was more appealing than he'd have liked to admit; he had to dismiss it with a shake of his head, and shake it again to get it loose. "'m fine, kid. Remind me what this stuff was for?" After all, he thought darkly, he'd always told Pap no. Pets were too much trouble, especially if you got attached to them. Besides, what would they feed her?

A knock on the outer door startled them both. Before Frisk could respond, the door opened, and in strode a tall, thin man in dark robes, holding a box under his arm. "High Priestess. Honored guest," the man said in a cool, whispery voice, giving them a short bow.

"Dr. Serif? This is a surprise," the High Priestess responded, replacing the veil as she stood up. "I wasn't expecting you so early. Sans, this is Dr. Serif, the royal sorcerer. Doctor, please meet Sans the skeleton."

The man regarded Sans with mild curiosity. "I am very pleased to see you again, Sans the skeleton. Has Her Eminence been treating you well?"

"Uh...yeah," said Sans, nonplussed. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The royal sorcerer bowed again. He was unnervingly pale, the effect enhanced by dark eyes and long black hair framing his face. "I helped transport you from your cell to this room."

"It took magic," Frisk said helpfully.

He'd figured as much; magic was the only way humans could do any damn thing. The boss monster looked at the box under the doctor's arm, which had a strange feel to it. He couldn't tell what it was, but he knew he didn't like it.

"This is for you, as we discussed, Your Eminence," the man said smoothly. "I will leave it in your office."

Frisk looked so uncomfortable that Sans glanced at the sorcerer, but nothing was visibly wrong. The man ignored them both, striding past the table and opening the door to her office. They heard rustling, and the doors closing as he stepped back into the workroom. "That will be all. Good day, my lady, Sans." With another bow, the doctor turned and left.

"Weirdo," said the ten-foot skeleton. He found he didn't want to look away from the door lest the guy come back and catch him unawares. He hadn't been threatening, but something about him was very off.

"He's...unique." Frisk sat down again. "Now, this infusion is almost ready. We'll leave it at room temperature for another ten minutes or so before we stir it again. In the meantime, you can add two drops of peppermint oil, mint, orange or lemon extract..."

The rest of the day passed without major incident. Frisk had to stop in the middle of concocting a burn salve and leave Sans to finish it, though she cautioned him not to infuse it yet. She rather envied him; she had to walk to the other side of the castle to go over her parish's monthly accounts, balancing foot-long columns of tiny numbers to check that tithes and alms had come in and gone out properly. They never quite did, though it had gotten better in the past year, as she had made it increasingly clear that she was not interested in stealing from the poor or turning a blind eye to it, even for a few hundred extra dinar in her own column.

The attempts at bribery were particularly insulting because she didn't need it. The realm's High Priestess was entitled to half a percent of the Church's total monthly income, and through the magic of frugality and compound interest, her personal fortune had grown to the point where she didn't want to use any of it. Life was so strange; as a small child, she had only eaten once every couple of days, and now she could decide not to buy her own estate and maintain a huge staff for it.

She was starting to wonder, though, about a rumor she'd heard regarding several hundred acres of land that would supposedly be up for sale in the next few months. They were principally wheat and barley fields, no more than two days' walk from the Underground's main entrance. That was food for thought, indeed.

Frisk eventually finished and stopped by the kitchens on her way back to her room. Sans was still wary of what he ate, and she took care to have more than one damned fork now when she tasted his food for him. She wasn't worried for herself: if she didn't have time to eat in the kitchen, she routinely paid several of the staff a bit extra to make sure that everything they brought her had come straight from the pot or the pan, with no chance for someone to add any surprises.

That had felt hypocritical at first, but she'd soon realized that she couldn't rely on people's consciences or sense of duty to keep her safe. Many, like the guard captain, were loyal for loyalty's sake, but many more of them needed external motivation, and she was helping the cooks and servers support their families. And she wasn't literally stealing from orphans to do it!

An overstuffed basket sat outside her chambers, and the guard hastened to open the door and push it inside for her. Frisk carried the tray to the table, setting it by Sans' elbow as he compared nearly identical recipes in two separate books. Then she dragged the laundry basket over, pulling a sail-like garment out end over end. "Here you are," she said around an armful of fabric.

The skeleton looked up, scowling at the interruption. "Wha?"

"This is for you." Frisk tried to hold up an enormous shirt, then an enormous set of trousers. "I had them measure your clothes when we washed them for you. They made you another set."

Sans slowly got up and took the shirt from her, holding it against himself. It was sturdy linen, almost as thick as the canvas shirt he wore now and much softer. The skeleton turned it this way and that, poking the material. "What's this for?"

Pause. "It's a shirt," said Frisk. "It goes on the top half of your body. Humans need it for protection against the elements, and modesty, but for you, it's principally so that you have a shirt on."

He acknowledged her smartassery with a respectful nod. "I mean, wasn't this a pain to make? I hope nobody expects me t'pay fer this. Not my fault if what I got on ain't pretty enough for ya."

"Oh, it was. Getting something that size made up so quickly cost me more than I paid for all the clothes I've had this year combined. But you're not a slave, you're my apprentice. That means you're working for me, and I'm keeping track of your wages. It'll take a while to pay this off—" Frisk stuck her arm through one of the trouser legs, flapping it to shake it out. "—but I think you'll manage it before you leave."

Sans had another odd expression. "Yer payin' me for the stuff I make? I thought apprentices were the ones payin' to learn."

"I consider the knowledge you'll bring back to the Underground to be your apprenticeship fee, and as this arrangement wasn't your idea in the first place, we're bending the rules," she said patiently. "I see you've made three sets of burn salve, two of which look useable, and you're almost done with a cough elixir. Fair market value for those is about ten dinar total, so minus the infusion I'll do for you, you've earned about seven already."

"Hm." He scratched the side of his head. "What am I payin' you for my food?"

Frisk laughed, shaking out the other leg. "The pleasure of your company." At his blank stare, she shook her head and uncovered the tray. "No one charges their apprentice for room and board, Sans." The priestess put down the trousers, picked up the fork and leaned in for a bite of baked fish.

The skeleton pulled the tray away, making her stab the table instead. "If I owe ya money, you're definitely not gonna poison me," he pointed out, and began shoveling it in.

"You're right," Frisk said gravely, trying and failing to hide her grin. "I'm glad you've had time to mullet over."

Sans pounded the table with his free fist, rattling the glass vials. "Might as well, just for the halibut. Right?"

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "That was weak. Think of a better one and let minnow," she said around it.

"You're right," he said, and waited for her to take a bite before he added, "We really need to scale back."

They had to stop laughing long enough to eat. By the time dinner was over and Frisk had carried the dishes out, both were relaxed enough to be sleepy. "Dunno why I keep wantin' to go t'bed, all I've done is read 'n catnap," mumbled Sans, trudging into the bedroom and flopping onto the mattress. "'m not even usin' my damn magic."

"You're eating human food, so your body is getting more nutrition and working harder to process it," Frisk pointed out, settling into her chair. "Mother said the humans all had to eat more to stop being hungry Underground." She tried not to burp out loud. "Besides, you're probably still recovering from the energy you spent being captured and then trying to kill me. Thrice."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that." The skeleton stretched all the phalanges of his toes, flexing them in turn. "Probably won't do it again," he added truthfully.

"Thank you." Frisk also stretched her legs out, Sans noticing how absurdly tiny her feet were as she got up from her chair with the recipe book. She reached down to dog-ear the page they were on. "Well, I—"

He whisked the book out of her hand and flipped it open to smooth the page out. "Use a bookmark, woman! What are ya, some kinda barbarian?"

"It's an old book! They're all creased anyway," she argued, trying to take it back. He held it over his head, roughly a mile out of reach. "All right, then, fine," she said with a smirk. "I'm going to take a bath. Read through and find five more ingredients to discuss when I get back." She shut the door on quiet skeletal griping, smiling to herself.

The next day passed in a similar fashion, at least outwardly. Frisk took careful note of everything Sans made, ignoring his suggestion to dock him the price of the ingredients when he screwed up; luckily, he was catching on fast, even if she wouldn't let him infuse anything yet. She also wouldn't tell him how much his new clothing had cost, saying only that she'd let him know when he broke even. What really got his attention was her adding, "If you make enough money, we'll send a few bushels of wheat back with you. No one can be upset that you were gone for so long if you come bearing gifts, can they?"

Sans was glad he didn't have facial muscles or anything similar to betray his inner turmoil. He'd had a lot of second thoughts last night about bashing his way out of here, due in small part to the new outfit and the possibility of bringing food to the Underground, but mostly because she was working her brain-magic on him again, being attractive and kind and easy to talk to like the terrible, sadistic person she was...not. She was not remotely terrible or sadistic, and that was the problem. He still didn't understand it, or how it was getting worse so much quicker than he'd anticipated. He just wanted to get away before she entangled him any further.

Then he'd started thinking of Snowdin right before he fell asleep, and for the first time since he'd been captured, he had dreamed of home. He dreamed their house was cold and dark, with no one upstairs and a single light on in the kitchen. A female form was silhouetted in the kitchen doorway, hands on hips, facing something slumped over the side of the couch. "C'mon, Pap. He's probably just out on another hunting trip," she argued.

"...IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?" The thin, nasal voice hurt Sans' SOUL, and not just because he'd desperately wanted to hear it again. This wasn't his boisterous, indomitable, recklessly cheerful brother; this was a small, heartsick Papyrus, one Sans hadn't seen or heard in a long, long time. The last time it happened, at least Sans had been there for him. Now Sans was gone, too.

"Hunting animals, Papyrus! He's hunting animals. Not humans." The woman thumped the wall for emphasis, knocking little bits of plaster from the ceiling. Dammit, Sans had told her to quit doing that. "That's gotta be it. We don't eat humans, and he knows how bad the food situation is, right? So..."

"I DON'T CARE WHAT HE'S DOING. ...WELL. NOT MUCH." The skeleton heaved a sigh, raising his face from the couch cushion. "...UNDYNE, I...I CAN'T REACH HIM. IF HE'S ALL RIGHT, WHERE IS HE?"

And then something had seeped out of the darkness and gently enclosed Sans' mind, blotting out the dream like a sponge on spilled water. He had woken up knowing that it wasn't a dream, and was instantly enraged—he'd been so grateful that the nightmares had stopped, and too damn stupid to figure out that she'd set a barrier up against external influences, including dreams shared with Pap. He'd ponder the full ramifications of it blocking nightmares another day; the memory of his brother's expression had decided him. Agreement or no agreement, he was getting out of here tonight.

Of course, he couldn't pack up the stuff he needed before their lesson was done, or right afterward. He wasn't worried about giving himself away: as an accomplished bullshitter, he knew he was behaving perfectly normally. The moment dinner was cleared away, he called dibs on the bathroom, which had a nice, huge tub that he wanted to use one more time. When he was done and she'd gone in and locked the door – and after the usual stab of curiosity as to what she looked like outside of clothes – Sans quietly put everything he wanted into a satchel he'd found under the worktable, and stowed it behind the door in the bedroom, where he had to wait until she was done getting dressed.

The one odd thing was that after she emerged from her dressing room in her full priestess-y regalia, she went into her office and spent a few minutes doing nothing that he could hear, after which she was wearing a different brooch. She'd had a white one on the first day they met, but this one shone with a greyish light under her veil.

"Goin' so soon?" he asked carelessly. It was ten o'clock.

She smiled. "If my duties only included saying words and a few songs, I would sleep much easier. There's always someone to speak to before and after services."

"Gotcha. Well, have fun. 'm gonna read somethin' with a damn bookmark 'fore I go to bed—I forgot t'ask, mind if I try ta make a few things while you're not here?"

"Go right ahead. You'll pay for it if you burn down my workroom, so I'm trusting you to behave." Was he imagining a weird little inflection there? No, she looked totally wonderful. ...Normal. She looked totally normal. "Good night, Sans," she said, adjusting her veil.

"G'night, Frisk." He stretched out on the bed as she shut the door.

That was it, then. He might not ever see her again. It...wasn't a good feeling. In fact, it felt pretty bad. Time to quit feeling it, think of Pap, and focus on his plan of action.

The plan: well, for starters, it would be dumb to try breaking out immediately. He wished he knew exactly where the chapel was. He'd heard occasional church-type singing off in the distance, but that didn't give him an idea of how far away she'd be during the service, or for exactly how long. Instead, he watched the clock and fidgeted, as nervous as the first time he'd faced down a group of human sorcerers.

Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe he should just ask her to take down the barrier keeping him from dreaming with Papyrus, just for one night. She was too kind to refuse, and intelligent enough...

...to ask him for more information in exchange. Frisk knew he used to be a normal monster, and might think to ask if he'd always been able to speak across dreams; it wouldn't be too far a stretch for her to keep questioning how he became a boss monster. She'd also realize that if she let him communicate with other monsters, he could tell them several things that she would prefer they not know, including her identity and full capabilities. It was one thing for her to take a calculated risk and let him go back to the Underground with that information, or – much more likely – to make him forget it before he left; some humans had the ability to excise bits of memory like that. It'd be another thing entirely to permit a conversation that no one else could even hear. She was nice, not stupid.

So Sans waited until eleven forty-five, and then he sat in the workroom with the satchel looped around his wrist for another ten minutes, nerves humming. Then he got up, went to the double doors leading out of her rooms, and silently picked up a seven-foot decorative statue standing at the room's threshold, wedging it inward across the doorframe. He went back to the workroom, judged the weakest place in the outside wall, reared back, and slammed his fist directly between two of the windows.

Frisk had started to relax as the organist began playing and incense floated in the chapel air. She was opening her mouth for the first hymn when a warning note sounded in the back of her mind: the barrier to her workroom's outside windows was tingling, and then it suddenly burned away, the warning note sliding all the way up to a full-blown klaxon.

She gritted her teeth so hard that it hurt, controlling her expression with a supreme effort as the voice in her head screamed, Sans, you two-faced sack of fertilizer!

The only good thing about the situation was that she wasn't leading this service. Therefore, it was odd, but not completely conspicuous, when she stepped to the back of the choir, touched her new brooch, and vanished.

#frans this fic brought to you by ABC Mouse

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gxldencity · 4 years

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would you be willing to share more of your thoughts on fandom/AO3, specifically re racism and staffing issues? if you'd rather not do so publicly I can message you off anon. but I'm really interested in what you have to say on the subject

Hmmm...🤔 tbf, a lot of this ties into how fandom as a whole is notoriously racist, and severely caters to the needs of white people first, BIPOC second (so in some ways like society). ao3 isn't the first or the only one who has these issues—and really we shouldn't stop at ao3—but it'd be great if a site that's supposed to for fans could do so much more at protecting its most marginalized communities.

I think in general what people want is to be able to use the site without enabling their fight or flight instincts. Filtering helps but it doesn't stop racist trolls from spamming their fics with hate because they dare pair a white fave with a Black character/OC or for daring to interpret a white fave as anything but white. Besides, a lot of racist fic usually isn't tagged with racism because who would do that knowingly? Unless you are aware that the stuff you're writing contains it, and want to warn people of the subject.

Ideally, it would be great if we could report these fics but I understand that's not how ao3 works. If that's not how they work, then the least they could do is provide more tools for us when using the site. Blocking/muting is a feature they've been working on for years, which was suggested by plenty of BIPOC during meetings with the board of directors. I think they're slowly rolling out the feature in the next month/next few months, and they've already added tools to support that (ie: comment freezes), which is honestly welcomed and much needed.

Really, they could be doing so much more beyond what the tools the site uses. The leadership and staff are so painfully white that it's kinda hard to engage with them on problems. BlPOC who have donated, are members and have participated in elections often felt ignored and frustrated at the lack of acknowledgement to their needs so they end up just stopping their donations and leaving. Like...they thought they could change things by donating, becoming members and speaking out—I mean that's what everybody tells them to do right?—but no one's there to understand their problems.

There are lots of things the OTW could do, but I think they should just take that initiative to hire BIPOC, instead of waiting around for someone to step up. That's not going to work with how notoriously racist fandoms are, pushing away fans of colour from participating.

Anyway, here are some threads to discussions that happened last summer, which was the last time (and not the first nor would it be the last) these discussions happened en masse.

Samira Nadkarni's detailed look on fandom racism throughout the years which contains several threads from Dr. Rukmini Pande.

This post on what white fans can do to help BIPOC.

Another perspective on keeping racist fics on the archive.

There are a few more threads surely, and a few more are constantly popping up.

There's always this dissonance I find whenever discussion about ao3 come up, like this attitude that we should be grateful for a service for providing for us, that we should learn our roots and see why ao3 is so important. But okay, why should I be entirely grateful for a site that barely did anything when my friends were getting racist harrasment in the comments? Why should I be completely happy with the way ao3 is when I and so many people I know have left fandom and/or stopped reading fics bc perusing through their fave's tag has just been exhausting due to the racist content?

Why is it when we talk about fandom roots, no one ever mentions that RaceFail happened around ao3's early years? I mean unless a BIPOC talks about it first which really doesn't help since it's on us again.

If we truly want to claim that fandom and ao3 are safe spaces for everyone, or ao3 and the OTW uplifts fans, then we have to mean everyone. Like fans of colour are just here to hang out and have fun, and don't want to be reminded that the world is awful like everyone else.

#elaine talks #sorry if i sound loopy #i saw this when i woke up and just went from there #also a lot of white fans are overzealot when it comes raising hell on certain works #even though no foc has said anything about it/is a part of it so like......read the room a little #and just let us live?#and talk to more poc bc im like one voice here #then you'll see how in a lot of fan spaces fandom works differently for poc #it's sad but i made a lot of friends from just...fighting against fandom racism #and uplifting foc myself bc no one else would #like that's how a lot of these communities are formed

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feuilletoniste · 4 years

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Are you genuinely stupid? Being a pedophile online is dangerous bc fiction does affect reality and yall are constantly grooming children too. I dont want to hear that pedophilia is the same as being lgbt either bc it isnt being lgbt isnt inherently being attracted to people who have no ability to consent. You are really gross and if you really are a pedophile please seek out help...

This is like an example bingo card, lol.

Quick question for you, Anon -- if places like the AO3 are such bastions of CSEM, why has no one, and I do mean no one, ever done anything about it? Surely the FBI would want to take down such an incriminating site, right? If this content is soo harmful, why has nothing been done -- and, in fact, why would organizations dedicated to prosecuting actual predators continuously say that they don’t want to be sent examples or art or fiction? Riddle me that, okay? I’ll accept your answers on my desk next Monday.

“Being a pedophile online is dangerous”: It’s no more dangerous than being anyone else online, Anon. “Being a pedophile” does not predicate being a child molester, or someone who actively seeks out minors to groom and abuse; it simply means that you have an attraction. You might be conflating that word with someone who has pedophilic disorder, which is marked by uncontrollable impulses lasting longer than six months -- I’m not a medical professional, but this is easily accessible information if you bother to read it properly. Just because someone is attracted to a certain demographic does not mean they will ipso facto be a creep about it. Got it?

“bc fiction does affect reality”: Actually, I’m doubling down on my spitballing from a couple of days ago. Fiction is inherently neutral. It has the ability to influence people, who can then influence reality, but words on a page are not going to physically leap up and smack you, or rape you, or kill you, because that’s not possible. You’re removing the middleman here. Don’t do that, please. The cause of abuse is abusers, not whatever influenced them to abuse someone. That’s a typical justification tactic. We can certainly look into what influences might have contributed to the abuse -- in fact, I strongly encourage it -- but the influences themselves are not to blame for the actions of a person. Mind control isn’t real, and brainwashing doesn’t work like Hollywood thinks it does.

“and yall are constantly grooming children”: Constantly? Yowch. Don’t we ever take a break to sleep or eat or go to work? (NB, no clue who “yall” are, here.)

“I dont want to hear that pedophilia is the same as being lgbt either”: And that’s fine. If someone is saying that, I encourage you to unfollow and/or block them. Mute certain words, blacklist certain others; the tools of the Internet and social media are at your disposal, Anon.

“bc it isnt being lgbt isnt inherently being attracted to people who have no ability to consent”: I don’t think I ever argued that pedophilia should be included under the LGBT acronym -- in fact, I don’t much care for the LGBT acronym, myself. If I ever did draw a connection, it was probably to say that people draw that connection, quite frequently actually. You do know queer history, right? You do know what religious groups have been saying about us for ages, right?

“You are really gross and if you really are a pedophile please seek out help...”: I personally think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I am in no way shape or form interested in children, yet somehow this misconception abounds. It’s nice that you think I should get help, though. Here’s a bit of personal information for you, Anon -- I’ve been seeing a therapist, taking medications, and managing my of experiences since (probably) before you were born. Do you seriously think I would have gotten this far in life without any of those things? I mean, who do you think I am, a white man, or something? Sorry, neither!

I do always find it hilarious when these messages close with ad hominem. Do you think I’m going to take you more seriously because you called me gross and told me I need help? Honey, get real. I don’t care what you think about me, because I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Don’t waste your time.

#Anonymous #asks

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lansizhuis · 5 years

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What do you think of fans who treat their headcanons as canon and get angry and nasty whenever others correct them? Like, they kept spreading how one person is in love with another character and claim that it is canon when there's no proof that it was? How do you deal with people like that?

Hmmm okay so for disclaimer purposes, personally I like some headcanons especially if it’s made to fit a fan content like a fic, for example (and I inhale fics in record time lol). And I do get the whole “death of the author” thing too but I think that canon is there for a reason and it remains unshaken as the one, true source for meta and the like. It’s more than fine to have your headcanons (lol I have some as well) bc that’s part of fandom life - we create. However, if one passes it as canon then insists on it and as you say “gets angry and nasty” when corrected then I do believe that’s wrong. There is absolutely no need to twist canon to fit your headcanon.

I think this stems from the idea that all our thoughts on a character, a ship, a theme must have canon basis. While doing character study, meta, and the like DOES indeed need that, other fan content doesn’t have to abide by it bc the idea for the fandom is to explore. Have a ship that never interacted? Go right ahead! Love a character that was just mentioned once? Love them! There’s no need to twist canon though just to feel that you’re “right” in shipping or loving your ship or character. Again, exploring is easily done without insisting that your explorations are canon. We don’t have to justify ourselves for liking or disliking something. It’s a preference thing so no need to get super worked up over it that we intend or maybe not even intentionally but that’s what’s happening - destroy canon.

I was just talking with a friend about fandom stuff a few days ago and I recalled how in the past if someone disagreed with a presented character/ship/theme study, I whip out screenshots immediately as proof to respond to them but now it’s become tiring most especially when the other party is rude. I adapted the thinking that it’s not anyone’s responsibility to always correct if other people read/comprehend wrong. It’s our choice to do so (and the people who do are amazing lol) but we don’t also have to (we’re all human here - we may not always be in the right head space and our own mental health is more important than defending fiction).

Also, a very, veeery handy thing is that I mute certain words/accts that I know or have experience already that we disagree on some things. There’s no need for us to interact if we’re just going to be negative around each other so I go the avoidance route. I know I always say this but this really is my fandom life conclusion - as much as I dislike other people’s takes, it doesn’t matter in the long run bc the fandom isn’t me, it’s a collection of people with differing ideas and takes. I just mute/block whatever I don’t like bc I want those people who don’t like my takes and I to feel as comfortable in their own space AS MUCH AS I WANT TO BE ON MINE. It’s nothing personal on my end but I want to surround myself with what makes me happy and trust me, once you understand that no one is your responsibility, that you can’t control others, and the only thing you have control over is yourself, then it becomes easier not just for fandom life but also in real life applications.

#this became long lol sorry #lansizhuistalks #fandom #anon #answers

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shadowtongued · 6 years

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DISCLAIMER; THIS HAS BEEN IN THE MAKING SINCE DEC 2017, I was just too shy to post it. Keep in mind that I'm not in any way, shape, or form trying to put my headcanons or interpretation of lore over anyone else's and this is pretty much just a general long-form run down for my roleplay blog to help people who aren't familiar with RS, so for my non-RS friends it's more of an explanation of how this 'tall ancient magic alien man' is and works. Physiology and some other cultural blurbs with the occasional emphasis on Sliske, because, well, that's what my roleplay blog is for. This is also mostly a passion project since I'm pretty fixated on this, if you read this at all, kudos to you and ily, ty for coming to my Ted Talk about this. Special thanks to people/friends who put up with me ranting abt this obscure fandom and helped me flesh out headcanons, and @theresiidentdevil the artwork that i commissioned that i use way too much bc devil really... really did my version of snek man nice. Other imgs used are scrounged from ja.gex’s concept arts and etc. ONCE AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON, AND JUST MY PERSONAL HYPOTHESIS, feel free to reblog but please don’t like... edit or try to give me heavy crit or come @ me with some lore bit from so-and-sos tweet that I am wrong and am a doodoo head or something. This was just a spot o’ fun and please don’t try to drag my interpretation or expunge this for laughs on the official lore discord. I’ve seen it done before and it’s not cool. individual creative interpretation is beautiful, mob bullying is not.

To kick things off, the Mahjarrat are one of a few ancient tribes that live on the ash, lava, and stone wasteland that makes up the dead planet of Freneskae. They are highly skilled in magic and intellect by nature, as well as living by a firm form of kratocracy; a government by those who are strong enough to seize power through coercive power, social persuasion, or deceptive cunning. Along with this, their survival revolves around two rituals, one of death and sacrifice, the other of life and breeding. That right there should tell you a LOT about them, socially.

HEIGHT.

Height varies from Mahjarrat to Mahjarrat, they are always going to be towering over most species, and most humans, as lore states that they generally are 1.5x the average human height. Sans that one wild ass gene of hyper height that makes gargantuan Mahjarrat like Lucien and Zemoregal, who tower over even Azzanadra's spike pope hat. Sliske himself stands at an 8′4 height, but that's just my headcanon for this blog's sake.

SKULLS / BONES.

The Mahjarrat have thick skulls, if this wasn't pretty obvious with the additions of dual lines of bony ridges running parallel from the brow to back of the skull, and lower. Some, but not all individuals have rather, short horns as their 'first ridge' before normal ridges. They also seem to have a subtle browbone ridge above each eye. Sliske, as well as some of the canon Mahjarrat we know, have these short horns and I like to exaggerate them a bit as sharp and more obvious, because who doesn't love horns? I'd imagine there are also ridges across other parts of their bodies such as the shoulders, elbows, knees, smaller ones on the knuckles, and perhaps down the back and along the hips. Go wild. Anyways, their skulls are thick and heavy, as in if it comes down to having to head-butt someone at the sacrificial ritual as a last resort physical conflict when magic is exhausted, someone is going to be using every exploit they can to survive. Anything counts when your life is on the line.

*above concept art is of their lich-like forms. good for seeing skull shapes.

Most also have rather large jawbones and powerful jaw muscles, and have a decent bite force to clamp down; like above, can and will use the force of their jaws if they have to with a good 1,069 psi (pounds per square inch), a little less than a hyena, meaning they can break bones with enough force. The main reasoning for this is their powerful mandible adductor muscles and the leverage needed to keep their jaw closed in their lich-like forms with the loss of skin and some atrophy, when they begin to run low on energy before every 500 years ( more on this later ), otherwise their toothy jaws would be hanging open and they'd look quite silly. It's quite rare for a Mahjarrat to bite unless as a last resort attack, out of spite when healthy ( almost as if saying 'you are weak and aren't worth the waste of magical energy' ), or for other minute reasons. Males tend to have very pronounced 'spikes' on their chins and larger skull ridges, but it's not completely unheard of a female having a 'spiked' chin and larger ridges. Sexual dimorphism isn’t too well explained or solidified by Jagex, we haven’t really seen much due to the few living Mahjarrat we see.

TEETH / CONSUMPTION.

personal interpretation of sliske’s teeth here.

Speaking of teeth, Mahjarrat have exceedingly sharp teeth for being part of a race that is not carnivorous or needing any sustenance at all. They have more teeth than humans (not really canon, just my personal interpretation, I prefer them being very Alien over ‘grey human reskin’); while almost every tooth has a sharpness to it, be it incisors or tines in the molars. Their front teeth seem to be ridged with smaller points, you probably don't want to get nipped by them, even if it's just playful or affectionate (uh, whatever they deem as affection). It's a real shame that Sliske seems to enjoy this, in the few moments he puts on a faux air of affection to scratch an itch or when deciding to use seduction as a ploy to further his manipulation or intel gathering, among other rare, convoluted feelings towards someone he's 'affectionate' with. Teeth shape and sizes can vary due to the Mahjarrat way of breeding and eugenics to create survivability through offspring on what traits work. Basic Darwinism, tbh. Following my ever favorite serpent motif for Sliske, you can expect his teeth to be pretty ophidian/snake-like. Due to my headcanon to their dark blood color, Mahjarrats may have dark or black gums. Small addition: babs do have sharp defensive baby teeth that fall out into hellish adult ones. Nice.

Mahjarrat do not need to eat or drink, as they are fueled fully by an arcane energy that they receive from rituals, and slowly deplete this over several centuries. Their power can last even longer if an individual is stingy with their power, or unaware of their power like Kharshai, who spent several centuries in a human guise hardly using any energy while unaware he was even a Mahjarrat. Despite not needing sustenance, it's not unheard of for Mahjarrat to attempt eating or drinking for whatever reason, be it pleasure or to emulate others. Hazeel's memories almost adorably describe some Mahjarrat attempting to sit and politely eat with humans to 'bond with them', despite them later having to regurgitate what they had eaten and Hazeel's repulsion at any creature eating at all. Several lore snippets include Zamorak enjoying wine and in Kindred Spirits, Sliske making the comment he may be drunk after downing the contents of a bottle. Whether or not they actually can become inebriated or have any sort of digestive system to even mildly uptake anything is debatable. For headcanon's sake, I like to think Sliske has no issue with pleasure eating and for taste, especially chocolate, fully knowing he'll have to bring it back up later. Most Mahjarrat have tongues that can be dark in color to only slightly brighter due to their dark blood color. Like horns, some end up with a slightly bifurcated tongue tip, some do not and have a single, sharp tip. Sliske is an extreme mutated case and has a very obvious black, snake-like, forked tongue. Just don’t ask him to do the thip thip because he won’t.

(WHERE’D YA GET THOSE) EYES / SENSES.

Usually, A Mahjarrat's eyes correspond to the color of the jewel embedded in their crown, but not always. They have very, keen eyes and their eyesight is exceptional to suit the darkness of Freneskae due to the constant ashfall and cloud cover. They can see short distances, but farther into heavy smoke and ash than most species, and can indeed see in the dark with excellent night vision and have a structure similar to an animal's tapetum lucidem, which is what reflects light and makes that eerie glare you see from animals in the dark. Due to spending a lot of time on Freneskae and being well adapted to that environment, it was quite a jolt for them to get accustomed to sunlight on Gielinor when brought during the Menaphite War, as they were used to heavy 'cloudy' weather due to ash blocking out what light they did get, and being used to the constant lightning strikes and the glow of volcanic rifts and lava pools. But they adapt quite well and while they still prefer muted lights, they have no problem in the sunlight after adjusting a bit. Think of when it’s a sunny summer day and you leave your dark house and how for a few minutes you have to acclimate. Sliske has the most trouble with this, seeing as he still spends quite some time in the darkness of the Shadow Realm which is hazy and muted in light. He's quite prone to straining and headaches/migraines from bright lights on Gielinor ( and Earth since a lot of my writing takes place on Modern Earth ).

Mahjarrat have fairly acute senses and sharp ears, and while most concept art shows them similar to human ears, why not lorge, sharp, and pointy ( as not to be so human )? Plus, imagine a few with larger, pointed ones that flick when irritated. That's cute, but deadly. They can hear fairly well and can hear you talking shit. Not exactly up to par with a bat or a moth, but quite up there with horses or cats. I'd imagine the rest of their senses are pretty keen despite not using taste or smell as much as a human, but most senses are still fairly above a human’s.

I'm not exactly sure how they'd fare in the aspect of touch, but it is known that they are very, very strong and can break bones with their bare hands. They have exceptional strength in their bodies and despite teleporting some ways, I'll bet most of them are decently muscular or lean under those robes due to their solidity and a bad example perhaps, but, uh, have you seen Zamorak's exposed chest? I'm sure 'godhood' didn't change that much, albeit some. Who wouldn't love a decently built Enahkra who will hand your ass to you? A babe. Sliske himself, while being one of the leanest of the Mahjarrat, probably has core strength and broad shoulders under those pauldrons. I'd like to imagine he'd also ( as some other of his kin) would be pretty flexible and train his Praetorians to be similar and absolutely strong in the event of having to resort to physical combat or maneuvering out of capture. Most of them were born on Freneskae, a planet made of plenty of solid rock/crystal cliffs and caves, they made pilgrimages pretty often to the ritual site, so some rock climbing was probably involved as they grew. Plus, image small, child Mahjarrat, not able to teleport or be proficient in magic, just out on a day with less lightning, climbing around, chucking rocks into lava for fun. I'm getting off-topic and we'll talk about babbies some other post.

SKIN / STRIPES / SCARRATIONS.

personal interpretation body/stripe of sliske here. (mildly nsfw)

Skin colorations are usually running the gamut of dark grey, pale grey, and dull color such as a grey-green, grey yellow and more. It's also notable that Mahjarrat are shapeshifters and are known to slowly take on the appearances of the conditions they are in for extended amounts of time; Kharshai becoming more 'viking-esque' like the Fremennik people who took him in when he was unaware he was human, and also Bilrach's warped appearance from spending god knows how long in Daemonheim with larger ridges, scarring, and some more demonic-looking features. Sliske himself has a very deep, dark slate grey skin tone from the amount of time he spends in the dark of the Shadow Realm, beginning to mimic its dusk.

Mahjarrat have thick skin, built initially to withstand the heat and abrasion of their home world’s rocky and dangerous climate and environment, but also notably protective against icy and snow-fraught climates, as they have little to no issue or complaint at heading far North of the Fremennik Providence, near the icy fortress of Ghorrock where their ritual stone lays on Gielinor ( it's also notable that Jhallan asks the adventurer to re-seal him within a fuggin’ block of ice to rest again, proving they do not mind the cold at all ). Their skin can scar if proper regeneration is not taken to heal wounds, as Mahjarrat are known for almost instantaneously healing themselves of most wounds on the battlefield to their own volition, but this is quite rarely seen on them, sans Bilrach. For all we know, they could be quite scarred from lack of regeneration fueled by magical energy or quite severe wounds under those robes that cover most of their body, I personally headcanon that some may have some scarring on their hands and forearms due to the might of some of the spells they use. I also personally headcanon Sliske having a pretty nasty burn across his shoulder and ribs trailing to the hip on the left side from Tumeken's explosive self-sacrifice detonation that wiped out the entirety of his army and at least 3/4ths of the Mahjarrat present, sans the ones spared by Azzanadra's quick shielding. I would think that some of them also may have suffered from similar scars due to Kharshai admitting they were tired and wounded after the event.

Striping and markings can litter their forms in sparse or rather heavy. Most Mahjarrat have at least some facial striping that can be a monochrome pale grey or darker, or a bright color such as Wahisietel's bright red trailing across his ridges to his chin spikes, Enakhra's vivid pink colorations, and Khazard's orange striping. While stripes may look similar from individual to individual you are hard-pressed to find two Mahjarrat with identical markings, and we have never heard of any twins being born from their tribe in canon ( Not saying it's not possible! But that would be a lot of strain seeing as once child is hard enough for a pair to conceive ). It's unknown if the stripes are across the rest of their bodies, but I say to hell with it. Why the hell not? Let the stripes go as angular or curvy as they please across their skin. Why limit the imagination. They are aliens. For the sake of me writing Sliske; he's a very pale silvery, parallel stripy thing under those robes with handsome slate skin. Go figure, that's jus' me though. ( Whatddya mean I made a personal ref of that?? s w e a t s?? slight warning for some not safies. )

CLAWS / FEET.

personal interpretation of sliske’s rock climbin’ sharp feets here.

Mahjarrat probably do have clawed hands and feet, and they are thick and sharp, along with strong ( most likely calloused for some ) palms and heels for climbing ( possibly before they were so proficient with teleporting ) They are also prime last resort weapons if need be and constantly need filing down on Gielinor and other terrains since they aren't around the rocky outcrops of Freneskae and using them there as much, most Mahjarrat seem to opt to wear gloves anyway. Their legs and arms are also pretty sturdy for climbing despite not needing to do so as much. I’d imagine they might just have longer toe and finger bones for mild gripping abilities when it comes to climbing. I’ve also kinda headcanoned often that they probably might have wrapped parts of their feet in bindings, just to keep things like soft arches or tendon areas save when climbing or walking. Ancient hellplanet fashion, baby.

GEMS.

Just about all Mahjarrat ( and Dreams of Mah in general ) have at least one 'crystal' or 'gemstone' in their brows or crowns ( whoever in the wiki said Sliske doesn't have one is a fraud, just because we don't see it due his V tapered hood doesn't mean it's not there, as it has been shown in several concept arts that he does have two yellow-green or 'peridotite' colored diamonds, like his half-brother’s four of the same color ). When asked about it in the Children of Mah quest, Wahisietel states that even they are not sure as to why they have them but believe it to be a direct connection to Mah. It's also implied that a dead Mahjarrat's 'crystal' often records their last thoughts or actions. Most Mahjarrat have the exact same bright iris color as their stones ( the concept art with Sliske having gold eyes throws me off, but I'd imagine there could be some minor color differences ). It seems that gemstones look-alike from siblings and offspring, as Sliske and his half-brother Wahisietel have almost the same colored crystal and shape despite Wahisietel having four diamonds to Sliske's two.

ORGANS? OR LACK THEREOF?

personal interpretation of nasty snake man blood here.

It's truly unknown as to just how many organs Mahjarrat have and if there is any comparison to be made to humans. It can be hypothesized they do have at least a heart ( With more chambers than a humans? Or two! Who knows! ) and lungs. If they do have lungs, it could be stated that they are very strong and made to filter out the heavy ash and debris of Freneskae's poor air quality, our adventurer had enough trouble breathing on Freneskae if you didn't take face gear. They do not seem to have a digestive tract as they do not need sustenance or hydration and perhaps have a makeshift stomach that leads nowhere as if they do eat anything, they just have to regurgitate it. Onto blood, they possibly do have a circulatory system and blood, as Lucien states he didn't 'want to spill any more Mahjarrat blood'. Normal human blood would be a bit boring so I like to imagine they have thick, dark-colored blood that has some iridescent properties to it ( not glittery, but if you have ever seen what the ink in a ballpoint pen looks like when dumped out, it has a particular shine to it. ) and never seems to be just one color, like an oil slick. Probably because it's so rich in arcane properties which would also make it pretty toxic, bitter, or awfully sickly sweet. This also means that they would blush pretty dark in color and have dark-colored tongues and etc. rather than red like humans, that's.... kinda cute. Also, if we are talking about organs and parts, a small blurb, no, female Mahjarrat do not have boobs. There's no need since they probably do not feed their young at all. So breaking canon for the sake of biology, hi, Mahjarrat probably don't have boobs or nips. Kinda doesn’t make sense. SHRUG. But they do have belly buttons, so maybe they are gestated with umbilical cords.

THE BANE OF THE JMOD’S EXISTENCE: MAHJARRAT REPRODUCTION

Y'all wanted it Jmods yell when we ask for it, here it is: my reproduction hypothesis. We have little to no real canon lore for Mahjarrat other than that they do(?) reproduce sexually, it takes a lot of energy to do so (abt 50% physical effort, 50% the pair pooling their life energy into the event, kinda dangerous), and that they are culturally fond of breeding during earthquakes ( this was just a cultural tradition and it's probably possible to breed outside of this tradition, the jokes say it’s almost Pavlovian ). They have a specific ritual for breeding, The Ritual of Enervation. The Enervation is the foil of a Ritual of Rejuvenation where one of their kind is sacrificed to provide all others with energy and return them from their lich-like states to fleshy filled out ones, the Enervation is a pilgrimage to select a mate and breed to create a new Mahjarrat between a pair. It's slightly hinted that the pair chooses their mate based upon battle prowess or cunningness ( Zemouregal Senior chose his mate based on her skills in battle ) . Much like real animals today, they want only the strongest genetics and mutations to continue on. All of them fight each other for their pick of a mate. Very rarely do the pairs have any emotional attachment, this is rare. And the ritual still isn't pretty; I'll say it, they are rough lovers. Expect biting, scratching, bruising, and more. Kinky. Let me tell you, human genitalia are boring as hell when you are describing aliens. Phallic genitalia differs a lot from individual to individual, it's a slight 'grab bag to see what part works best for future genetics'. Mahjarrat bits are pretty internal until aroused since it makes no sense for them to be external seeing as all Mahjarrat lose a lot of skin and muscle to atrophy as they age and lose energy, so they'd do better internally and tucked away. Vaginal genitalia differs heavily as well, anything goes. Barbs? Sure. Flowery looking bits? Sure. It's aliens, guys. Go wild. Same thing with sexualities and genders, other than what they want to present themselves as, we don't know shit, so go for it. I'm fairly sure Mahjarrat really don't mind gender identity and anything goes, they see power, survival, and fighting over everything else. Sliske, of course, is male presenting and yes, has his own unique bits. Uh, ridges, bifurcated tip, fan-like appendage for preventing backflow. I'd describe more but I'm already pRETTY FUCKING SHY RIGHT NOW BC I DON'T KNOW HOW TO talk much abt this. I'm a beginner alien fucker. Give me a break. UPDATE: I went there, I no longer have shame. bc I roughly drew it.

I’m not sure what the good estimate would be when it comes to how long a Mahjarrat gestates, is it longer than a human? Quicker due to magic? We just don’t know. The birth rate is exceedingly low due to the dangers and strain of Freneskae, it's not unheard of for miscarriages or mothers to pass away from lack of energy or during the fray of the constant other tribes attacking each other. Generally, it's a duty to protect a gravid mother of the sake of population, mate or not. Putting aside your disdain for your nemesis was hard but needed if you wanted to keep your tribe thriving. Fathers don't tend to stick around after the ritual other than to check in to protect their child and future genetics as insurance. Mothers rear children and if they could get along and not spat at one another, often looked after each other's children. Maternal groups were pretty common and one could leave another to watch their kids while they went off on their duties of making lightning rods, scouting, and more.

MISC?

Mahjarrats don't exactly have the same bonds as humans and familial life was harsh, mainly due to the stress of knowing your own blood one day might betray you and vote you off to be the sacrifice at a ritual. They are not affectionate as much as humans and care in their own backwards way about each other if they are family, but it's an arm's length approach. Sliske and Wahisietel seem to get along and still probably have their ferocious verbal quarrels and have possibly even physically scuffled a bit over things, but managed to have concern for one another, as do Mahjarrat who are as best a definition of 'friends' can be to them. Remember that they are very paranoid of one another and usually only see eye to eye if in the same political faction or having to make a deal or coerce one another to stand up for you if you are challenged at a ritual ( later on this became a huge political agenda between the two main sides; Zamorakian or Zarosian and fighting intensified at dislike for each other ). As they evolved from their creation, they just generally became more and more mistrustful of each other to point of paranoia. So affection is incredibly weird to them and the first thought that comes from it is 'what do you want and why?' and it's expected to be a deceitful notion. Hence, Sliske is incredibly good at persuading others and using deceitful action to lure people but the moment it's done to him, he'll play along but consider it warily as false notions. Sorry not sorry, that's pretty habitual to him and will stay with him, as well as his kin. You're never going to have a 'stable relationship' with any Mahjarrat. Well, not 100% at least. You can try, they might even appreciate it if they aren’t offended.

That’s about all I wanted to say and anything left out of this word spew can be covered in other posts. Like culture.... or babbies. I have a lot to say about Babjarrats but no place right now to keep up this long shit. UPDATE: i talked abt my thoughts on babjarrats. it was the best of my life.

#✦ │ 𝙾𝙾𝙲 ––– that's a lot of fuckin' tea.#✦ │ 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 & 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 ––– i do hate parting with information.

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twen-nee7 · 4 years

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this is a dumb rant abt stress & being an artist online

i do not know how people handle having like, a real fanbase? i have a nsfw and a sfw art account on twitter and a grand total of-- ready? --72 followers between them.

i asked how trigger warnings worked bc i'm making a comic on my nsfw that has to deal with some pretty heavy themes (thus why it is... on my nsfw (and it does have sex in it)) and i wanted to make sure i tagged things appropriately.

i got half an answer from someone, followed by the logical and understandable question of why i was asking. i answered that the comic will have implied rape scenes (i wouldn't draw them) and emotional abuse, and, bc it's twitter, i didn't go any more in-depth than that (character limit and all). followed was a silent block, which is fine, although they didn't even answer my question about cw/tw work on twitter.

like yes, this bugged me because i have been having A Week. normally i'd be cool with it and move on because i'd rather have someone silently block me than start shit. like, this is a good thing

however, they've been like... is the term subtweet?? they've been posting stuff very clearly about me on their account. i just looked from my sfw account because i knew this person likes to instigate shit (they regularly post very cancel-y stuff; i was actually planning on blocking them before posting any more actual art on the account), and like... dude i just. i clearly didn't come across correctly because they're tweeting about how "problematic artists don't belong on twitter" and shit and i'm like

my comic is about... the process of recognizing an abusive relationship and getting out of it? there is no fetishizing of the abuse, like it'll very clearly be framed as Fucked Up and Not Okay, which you'd think would have been implied by the whole "i'm not drawing any rape" thing but apparently not.

like, i get it, a nsfw account saying they're gonna draw something with abuse in it would usually mean that they're gonna glorify it or make it sexy or whatever, but... ugh. i'm like 99% sure there's a post on my nsfw twitter that the comic is going to be about dealing with consent and abuse in alternative relationships.

i don't expect someone to go back and read that, but i do expect someone to not be vaguely posting about me because of it. (they literally tweeted something like the very minute they blocked me, and there's one thing between that and this thread about ~problematic artists~ lol)

tbh it's kind of killed any motivation i had for the comic, too, for it to be taken completely the wrong way because i fucked up explaining what it's about in 150 characters or however long tweets are. in fact, it's been so stressful i don't even want to have art accounts anymore lmaoooo

of course, i know this is a byproduct of my stress due to school. again, i normally don't get weird about people blocking me and look at their page or whatever, but i've been staying up to 5am every day doing schoolwork and it's very "the pen fell off the table and i started sobbing" phenomenon. i'm not upset about the block. i'm upset because i'm stressed the fuck out.

also, i am and have been so fucking terrified of cancel culture and wording something poorly / saying the wrong thing to the wrong person; it seems like people are so quick to jump on people instead of talking about it first to see if there was a misunderstanding. like, i say stupid shit all the time? (and no, it's not racist/sexist/body shaming/other problematic things, but god knows anything can be taken out of context.)

man how do people deal with this XD

my very close friend told me that i am very much the meme of the stereotypical conspiracy theorist with all the papers on the wall connected with string, and yes it do be like that sometimes when i'm Going Through It, which i am. lol.

(and yes for now, i've got twitter completely muted and might uninstall it for a couple of days so i stop fucking looking at it out of habit/anxious compulsion.)

#sorry for the rant #anecdote #being an artist #jesus christ how do you deal with this shit tho

0 notes

guksuu · 7 years

Text

a giant post about tag games that im gonna finish right now [pt. 1]

skjfhsdkf i’ve been tagged for games and i’ve been neglecting to do them so here’s a giant post with all of them! not gonna tag anyone cause there are so many BUT feel free to do them :’) im warning u, this is gonna be super long!

kpop q’s!

tysm to @yugy for tagging me!!

1. who was your first female bias?

2. who was your first male bias?

cheondung from mblaq!

3. who are your current biases? other than the above:

no biases..im an OT stan (lmao am i the only OT stan for all groups?)

4. in the entire kpop indrustry, who is the closest to your ideal type?

jkshdfksd hmmmm...i dont really have an ideal type..

5. have you ever attended any kpop concert/fan meet/fan sign?

yes!

6. if yes, which group/artist? how was your experience?

my first concert (which is the only concert i’ve been to so far), was club eskimo (dean, offonoff, miso, saay). it was amazing! the performances were a1 n meeting them was so cool. i also saw monsta x! it was such a great night n the boys were so sweet!

7. which group(s) would you like to see live?

got7, seventeen, block b, b.a.p, day6, nu’est, winner...a lot of groups lmao

8. how did you get into kpop?

my brother actually showed me suju’s sorry sorry like in 2009 n i got really interested, so i started looking around n finding more groups.

9. who are your otps?

i haven’t really gotten into otps yet, but some i do know are: yugbam, verkwan, jinyoon, sope

10. when did you start shipping?

jkshfksd im still figuring out ships

11. what was your favorite fanfic genre?

anything thats fluff n angst dkhkdfg

12. what is your favorite music genre?

i listen to a lot of genres

top 10 bias tag

thank u tracy, @eggciao, for tagging me!!

sdfkhsdf im ot so this is gonna be hard but o well (i already did this but imma do it again lmao)

1. junhui (svt)

2. yongguk (b.a.p)

3. chunjin (myteen)

4. ten (nct)

5. johnny (nct)

6. yoochan (a.c.e)

7. dowoon (day6)

8. hyungwon (monsta x)

9. dongho (nu’est)

10. jisung (wanna one)

song tag

thank u @otteryj n @kawaiikpopofsatan n @calemiel for the tag :-)

rules: put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs and tag 10 people!

1. 짜장면 - myteen

2. cant see the end - seventeen

3. cry - mblaq

4. stop it - b.a.p

5. moon, 12:04am - offonoff

6. 다시 앞으로 (ft. sumin) - loco

7. 밀착 - taek

8. hey - got7

9. rollercoaster - monsta x

10. good bye bye - nu’est

five things tag

thank u to the lovely @smilingvernon n @whaaattheflower for tagging me!

rules: write the five things in the situation, and then tag 15 people~

five things you’ll find in my bag:

headphones

tons of pens

gum

color pencils

tons of random papers that I need to throw out

five things you’ll find in my bedroom:

vinyls

art supplies scattered everywhere

all of my ceramic and sculpture works

lots of club supplies

binders that are super old, which I need to get rid of

five things I’ve always wanted to do:

travel

learn a new language

go to a festival

sell art

volunteer in a different country

five things that make me feel happy:

dogs

my family n friends

food (so cliche but honestly..)

my lovely mutuals

my favorites loving themselves

five things I’m currently into:

skin care

old school rnb/hip hop/soul/rap

asmr

crime shows

plants

five things on my to-do list:

possibly dye my hair bc senior portraits are coming up

explore n go outside

buy more vinyls even though im broke shfksdsdf

stop being a pushover ://///

fix my sleeping schedule before school starts but we all know it’s not going to happen

get to know me tag

thank u to @cngkyns n @urmomstax n @sleepyw0ns n @nyaaaaaw for tagging me!

rules: you must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

the last: 1. drink: boba 2. phone call: my mom 3. text message: “50% sweet and light ice” (i was texting my sister my drink order lmao) 4. the song you listened to: diamond 4 ya - b.a.p 5. the time you cried: ahh i don’t remember

have you: 6. dated someone twice: no 7. kissed someone and regretted it: no 8. been cheated on: no 9. lost someone special: yes 10. been depressed: yes 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: no

list three favorite colors: 12-14: black, yellow, green (that muted green color though lmao)

in the last year have you: 15. made new friends: yes 16. fallen out of love: yes 17. laughed until you cried: yes 18. found out someone was talking about you: yes 19. met someone who changed you: yes 20. found out who your friends are: yes 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: no

general: 22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: a majority of them 23. do you have any pets: used to have fishes, turtles, and birds 24. do you want to change your name: not anymore 25. what did you do for your last birthday: went out to go eat with the family 26. what time did you wake up: 11am 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: watching one fine day 28. name something you can’t wait for: la trip in october

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: yesterday night 30. what is one thing you wish you could change in your life: im tired of being a pushover :///

31. what are you listening right now: yoongi’s mixtape 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: yes? 33. something that is getting on your nerves: people who love calling others rude names over minor mistakes, ANYONE THAT SEXUALIZES MINORS, passive aggressive people. i have more but that would be a long list. 34. most visited website: tumblr

lost questions aka random info about me 35. mole(s): one on my thigh (if i remember correctly) 36. mark(s): on my elbow from falling, one between my brows when i slipped on the stairs n fell during tag 37. childhood dream: i had so many like being a dentist, firefighter, cop, etc. 38. hair color: dark brown 39. long or short hair: i like both!

40. do you have a crush on someone: nope 41. what do you like about yourself: my ceramic and sculpture skills! 42. piercings: nope 43. bloodtype: i dunno 44. nickname: lili (that’s what my cousins calls me)

45. relationship status: single

46. zodiac: aries 47. pronouns: she/her 48. favorite TV Show: all the old nick, cartoon network, and disney shows, law & order svu, ridiculousness, wild n out, mr. robot, etc. 49. tattoos: nope 50. right or left hand: right 51. surgery: yes but when i was younger 52. hair dyed in different color: i have done like an ombre before 53. sports: i like basketball, swimming, and baseball 55. vacation: i wanna go back to hawai’i, visit korea, thailand, philippines, etc. 56. pair of trainers: 2

more general: 57. eating: lots of viet and chinese 58. drinking: water, and boba 59. i’m about to: watch some shows, make gfx n gifs 61. waiting for: the day i graduate highschool 62. want: lots of food n rest 63. get married: yes, but maybe after i get settled a bit w my career 64. career: sculptures&ceramics/graphic designer, or psychology/criminal justice

which is better?: 65. hugs or kisses: hugs

66. lips or eyes: eyes!

67. shorter or taller: either

68. older or younger: either, but not by a lot

70. nice arms or stomach: either lmao

71. sensitive or loud: both!

72. hookups or relationships: relationships

73. troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

have you ever: 74. kissed a stranger: no 75. drank hard liquor: yes 76. lost glasses/contact lenses: yes 77. turned someone down: yes 78. sex on the first date: no 79. broken someone’s heart: yes 80. had your heart broken: yes 81. been arrested: no 82. cried when someone died: yes 83. fallen for a friend: no

do you believe in: 84. yourself: not really :/ 85. miracles: yes, but where are they in my life lmao 86. love at first sight: depends 87. santa Claus: no 88. kiss on the first date: no 89. angels: yes

other: 90. current best friends name: hannah, jane, kim, christina, and jhkdfs all of my network pals :-)) 91. eyecolor: dark brown 92. favorite movie: any studio ghibli film i’ve seen, kill bill 1 & 2, forrest gump, wonder woman, beetle juice, boyz n the hood, etc.

question tag

tagged by @wooziology!!! tysm :-))

1. ARE YOU NAMED AFTER SOMEONE?

nope

2. WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

i don’t remember

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?

i like it. it’s super small.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?

beef or chicken

5. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?

yes?

6. DO YOU USE SARCASM?

yes

7. DO YOU HAVE YOUR TONSILS?

yes

8. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?

no thank u

9. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF CEREAL?

cookie crunch, cinnamon toast, or regular cheerios

10. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES?

yes

11. DO YOU THINK YOU’RE A STRONG PERSON?

12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?

coffee

13. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

their personalities

14. RED OR PINK?

both!

15. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE PHYSICAL THING YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF?

my forhead lmao

16. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING NOW?

black jeans n black/white vans

17. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?

pizza n pasta

18. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?

OYEAH by olnl (he’s a really nice rapper, check him out!!)

19. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?

grey

20. FAVORITE SMELL?

mint

21. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SPOKE TO ON THE PHONE?

my mom

22. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH?

basketball

23. HAIR COLOR?

dark brown

24. EYE COLOR?

dark brown

25. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?

26. FAVORITE FOOD TO EAT?

noodles, especially noodle soups

27. SCARY MOVIE OR COMEDY?

both!

28. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?

the belko experiment (one of the most wild films i have watched)

29. WHAT COLOR OF SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?

tan wih orange stripes

30. SUMMER OR WINTER

winter forever

31. HUGS OR KISSES

hugs!

32.WHAT BOOK ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING?

none but i wanna read the divine comedy, the lathe of heaven, and demian

33. WHO DO YOU MISS RIGHT NOW?

my brother n cousins n parents

34. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?

i dont have a mouse pad

35. WHAT IS THE LAST PROGRAM YOU WATCHED?

seventeen’s one fine day

36. WHAT IS THE BEST SOUND?

the rain or waves. they’re honestly so soothing

37. ROLLING STONES OR THE BEATLES?

im more familiar with the beatles, so beatles

38. WHAT IS THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE EVER TRAVELED?

hawai’i

39. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?

do my ceramic n sculpture skills count or?

40. WHERE WERE YOU BORN

california!

30 questions tag!

tagged by the cuties, @lastnamesuh n @eatnamjin n @princesssjoy n max. thank you so much!

nickname: hmmm...my monbebe pals often call me baeiley...i think someone also has me as baeleaf too lmao. other nicknames beside that are lili, which is what my cousins call me.

gender: female

star sign: aries

height: 5′3

time: 6:20pm

birthday: april 1st

favorite bands: nu’est, b.a.p., got7, seventeen, monsta x, myteen, a.c.e, winner, nct (lmao all of three), block b, btob, day6, theboyz, victon, vixx...n a lot of other groups.

favorite solo artist(s): im such a big khh/krnb fan so brave, saero, crucial star, samuel seo, jeebanoff, dean, dpr, punchnello, bewhy, crush, g.nine, loco, bloo, dumbfoundead, olnl, sik k, n a lot more. others are taek, paul kim, iu, jung jin woo, ra.D, grizzly, moonmoon, sam kim, miso, suran, etc. for american music, its sza, kehlani, sob rbe, childish gambino, made in tyo, amine, isaiah rashad, kendrick lamar, etc.

song stuck in my head: overcome - nu’est & crush - yuna

last movie i watched: hmmmm...men in black. its one of my favorites!

last show i watched: law & order svu

when did i create my blog: i created this blog...like 2014? this blog was originally my personal but i moved it so it can be my primary. i would say i changed into a kmusic blog this year in january!

what do i post: lmao im multifandom so a lot of groups, also some aes n social stuff.

last thing i googled: the word “blithely” for my english class

do u have other blogs: i have my personal which is @medasins n another blog but i aint gonna tell u the other one bc that one is still being edited. i also run monbebe net as an admin with four of my other mutuals.

do u get asks: super rare lmao. i dont mind people sending asks though!

why did u choose this blog name: i wanted a general username n i just love noodles so much jksgfddfhggj

following: tons of talented/adorable mutuals that i love so much! also others that make a lot of beautiful content!

followers: 517

favorite colors: literally the color scheme i have for my blog rn (black, mustard/golden yellow, n this blueish-grey). i also rlly like grey, or any other muted tones.

average hours of sleep: during school...3-7 hours. during the summer/weekends...8-10 hours.

lucky number: i do not have a lucky number but 0?

instruments: i played brass/lower brass instruments (trumpet, cornet, baritone, n french horn) from like 5th-8th grade. right now i play/am learning a bit of ukulele!

what am i wearing: black running shorts n a grey tee

how many blankets i sleep with: one but two for winter

dream job: i dunno...still figuring it out

dream trip: traveling!

favorite food:

favorite food: literally noodles, any noodles. i also love homemade viet n chinese food. O INDIAN N THAI TOO.

nationality: chinese!

favorite song now: ummm...lately i by saero, but also 짜장면 by myteen

#ty to all the pals who tagged me!!! ily!#JKSDHFKSD THIS TOOK ME SO LONG #u dont have to read this lmao so spare urselves kjsdfsd #i still have to do the photo ones djghfdkg im sorry :////#ill try to get them finished this weekend!#tag: game #celestial mutuals

13 notes · View notes

franeridart · 7 years

Note

This might be too much to ask but I broke my laptop and only have access to mobile and I'm dying to know what I'm actually missing but I can't check would you be able to describe it? Sorry I know this is annoying ignore it if it's too much trouble

It’s not annoying so don’t worry about it, but my posts should all be visible, now? At least my app doesn’t give me the option to request a review anymore… if you can’t see them still they’re all (aside from the one I posted earlier) backed up on my wordpress blog! You can see them from there without me needing to describe them~

Anon said:Franeri-san what dimensions do you usually use for your canvas? When I draw I end up making the canvas too small, so when i zoom in to make details it becomes pixelated. But I also don’t need my canvas too big because I won’t be able to proportion it;; it’s a visual thing… Ah I’m rambling sorry

I use a 6000pxx5000px with a 4px brush, usually, but I really rarely use it all, mostly it’s just like, corners of the whole thing. I tend to draw a lot of things on the same canvas before switching to a new one - that said, personally I can’t draw properly if I don’t zoom in above 100% (usually I work at 150% or 200%, more for details) so I’m really not the right person to ask this haha

Anon said:I saw that profanity is now being blocked more heavily by safe search so our good, good but foul mouthed Baku may be the reason your stuff is hidden. You’ve probably already heard this but I thought I’d let you know~

Rip so I heard orz though let’s not give our Baku all the fault here, I swear a lot by myself too haha I’m my own ruin, seems like - thank you for taking your time to share the info, anyway!!

Anon said:I’m really happy about your blog not being censored seriously. CAUSE YOU MAKE WONDERFUL DRAWINGS THAT FILL MY HEART AND I WAS STARTING TO PANICK. Keep up the good work~. 🖤

And I’m really happy you can properly see my blog, you sweet sweet cute and adorable anon!!!!!!!!!! *O*

Anon said:Hello! First, I love your art and your headcanons and stories! I am in love with bakushima half because of you, you beautiful tart. Second, about Bakugo’s laugh, holy crikey, of course he’s loud and explosive. The boy is a ball of stress and anger and when he laughs for real, it’s rare and takes effort. But like, can you just imagine when his explodo-kill mask cracks his face turns red because he doesn’t want to laugh. But THEN he barks out a laugh and everybody’s stunned and then he just SNORTS

YES!!!!!!! Oh my god yes that’s an hc I have he definitely, definitely snorts when he tries to hold back his laughter it’s so effin adorable I die every day a lot bless that kid

Anon said:Who tops of in your opinion in Bakushima?👀

Maybe either, maybe neither, depends on many things but mostly on how I don’t ever ask myself this question for any of my ships so I got no answer for it at all ever - instead we should ask ourselves the important questions, like who opens the water bottles between them (Kirishima when Bakugou’s palms get too sweaty and Bakugou’s forever resentful about it), who kicks when they sleep and who always ends up sleeping on the floor because of it (Bakugou’s the restless sleeper, poor Kirishima), who takes way too damn long in the bathroom goddamnit Kirishima get out of there already I swear to go——-

Anon said:your blog makes me really happy just keep doing you you’re like the best thing

Thank you so much holy smokes!!!!!!!!!! *O*

Anon said:wait wait wait wait! is Bakugou the one teaching Shark Kirishima sign language?? then does that mean Kirishima learned to sign ‘I love you’ from Bakugou!? (Q/)////(\Q)

They’re learning together!! They have an online dictionary and follow online courses, so Kirishima kind of looked it up for himself at first - he was signing it as love instead of really like thoug, which made Bakugou indecently flustered so in the end, yes, he was the one to teach him how to properly sign it :D

Anon said:Will you still be updating this blog?

Sure will! The wordpress one is just a backup thing!

Anon said:wait so question: in the mer au, does kiri know jsl from before? because the way he reacted to bakugou first attempting to sign at him looked like he recognized it but you said they both had to learn? does he react like that because he recognizes it as bakugou actively trying to communicate? (btw this au is So Good i love how kaminari is just “why are you like this” at kiri but his Gay Ass cant be swayed)

I’m glad you like it!!!!! And nope Kiri didn’t know jsl from before, but mers do have something similar to a sign language (there’s deaf and mute merpeople too, after all) so he recognized it as Bakugou going “I want to talk to you and this is the best way to” - also, he’d never seen a tablet before and Bakugou was showing him an explosion on it to make him understand and instead he went “what is this SORCERY” and got excited about a gif. Good, pure kid. I had no clue how to add that in the comic in a fast way tho so let’s leave it at him being happy they found a possible way to communicate haha

Anon said:Hi Fran!!! Hace you reas the theoriws aboyo kiri o kaminari Boeing traitors? Si you know where they came up? I’m lil bit lost even tho I’m up with the man lmao ALSO pls more maki-chan

So pretty much at some point in the middle of a meeting Present Mic mentioned how there probably was a traitor between them that kept on feeding the villains infos about UA, and the fandom of course got interested in that!! Who could it be? They started thinking it through and for some reason the theories that ended up being more popular are about it being either Kaminari, Kirishima or Hagakure - I don’t think any of these are true, but if you google search “kaminari traitor theory” or the same with the other two names you should easily find the posts explaining the theories and where they come from, if you’re interested!

Anon said:omg fran i haven’t watched/read bnha but still solely bc of your art i am IN LOVE with kirishima. he’s such a pure being I feel like crying every time i see him??? like i just watched the first opening of the anime and you bet i watched the 5 seconds kirishima gets over and over. like all the bnha kids seem great. i am somehow extremely motivated to read bnha now thanks to your art. BUT OH MY GOD KIRISHIMA I LOVE HIM SO MUCH WHAT EVEN

You picked the best fave you could ever pick, anon!!! Kirishima is the BESTEST boy, purest and brightest and energetic and actual sunshine and also super strong and resilient and kind of an ass now and again but in a good way he’s GREAT I’m IN LOVE with him good job your intuition is perfect

Anon said:THE MER AU WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER I LOVE SHARK KIRISHIMA AND THE TAGS ALL GAVE ME LIFE

GLAD YOU LIKED IT OMG!!!!!!!

Anon said:I love all your art, but especially all your self indulgent stuff bc first off HELLS YEAH DO THE STUFF THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY and another is it feels like self indulgent stuff for me but I’m not the one making the thing… So like… It’s Good™ BUT YEAH ANYWAYS I LOVE YOUR ART AND YOU AND YOUR ART MAKES ME HAPPY TBH I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING A LOVELY DAY

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH also this is super nice to know because sometimes being self-indulgent is all I can manage to do haha r i p but at least now I’ll know you, for one, will like it!!! That’s nice!!!!!!

Anon said:If you were ever bored and wanted to do more of your mershark au thing I wouldn’t be mad at all ! 😝 your art is so cute and easily recognizable and I really enjoy it! Stay beautiful lovely Fran!

!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I really, really think I will!!!!!!!! :D

Anon said:I bet if denki tried to do the “if i jump at ______ they will most certainly catch me” with bakugou, bakugou would just let him fall

Oh my god no Bakugou’s reflexes and instincts are too fast and automatic the actual reaction at seeing someone run and jump at him would be without thinking trying to explodo-kill them don’t jump at him Kaminariiiii

Anon said: What to you think of a school dance bnha concept thing???

I read a bakushima about it once and I DIED so actually A++++ great perfect amazing concept I love it

Anon said:I gotta know,what do you think of the “Dabi is Todoroki Shouto’s brother” theory? i personally feel like that 1’s the most likely theory to become a legit thing but im curious

I talked about this on my main just the other day!! And added something about it earlier through another ask! But generally I think it’s believable, and I wouldn’t mind it being true :D

Anon said:But, what are your feelings about this chapters? And Kirishima? God, I love him even more and want him to be happy, but Im also dying to know what happened to him in his past!!

I CRIED I love that boy so much I swear it’s getting ridiculous I’m so so proud of him and how far he’s come and I just want him to be happy??? I do want to know his past tho!!! I’ve just been asking for this for, like, eight months!! I hope next one will be the one I’ll finally learn about my child tbh ;–;

Anon said:Fran you should totally do bnha and haikyuu calendars

………………..boi that sounds like a lot of work, anon. Like, it’s an interesting idea, but also my lazy ass is telling me no way no what the heck go to sleep instead r i p

Anon said:Have you ever thought of an eraser mic fusion?

I’ve drawn it already!!

Anon said:fran i?? i love the way you draw smiles?? idk i was just going through your art and i realized that holy SHIT i really love the way you draw smiles. like each smile is different and has its own specialty. esp bakugo’s smile I LOVE HOW YOU DRAW HIS SMILE!! like usually it’s not really noticeable but then there’s that slight quirk of his mouth (see what i did there?) and it’s so perfect. idk dude i just REALLY LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW SMILES

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE ASK I DON’T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER HELP ME !!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you????? so much??????? I’m glad you like them cause honestly I love drawing people smiling and laughing, it makes my heart smile too~

Anon said:Theres a bnhaStuck blog in the works ;)

That’s? Nice! I guess!! I hope whoever’s working on it will have fun with it!!

Anon said:Fran this last BNHA chapter hurt so bad. And then I saw your mer-Kiri and it cheered me up!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m glad I could cheer you up cause honestly I felt that pain a whole damn lot too ;A; let’s hope Kiri won’t have to suffer much more in this arc #sob

Anon said:im crying fran, my hard bby kiri in the latest chap,,, my baby boi, i know that i wanted to know more abt him but,, keep my baby safe pls oh goodness gracious… (and as usual ur bootiful art keeps me alive)

I mean nearly all the character arcs we got are damn sad so it was obvious Kiri’s was going to be too, but still ;A; don’t make him suffer too bad Hori I beg u ;A;

Anon said:*takes deep breath* I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING QUALITY ART OF MY FAVOURITE SHIPS YOU ARE SUCH AN AMAZING PERSON AND YOUR ART IS VERY PRETTY AND I JUST WANTED TO THANK YOU FOR EXISTING IN GENERAL BYe

THANK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO MUCH OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:!!!!!!FRAN!!!!!! YOUR MER!KIRI AU!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D I’m glad you enjoy it!!!!!!

Anon said:I love your work 😍. You are the only one who makes comics About my favourite ships. I check your web everyday If you post something new. My fav ships are I.waoi, bok.uroo and bak.ushima. Love your work 🙂

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh thank you!!!! holy smokes!!!!!

Anon said:Do you have an OC for Boku no Hero Academy?

The closest things to bnha ocs I have are the fusions, right now, but there’s a couple of asks in my inbox about a bkkr kid… soon……..

Anon said:Quick question, I want to read haikyuu, I’ve watched the anime already and I was wondering how close the anime follows the manga, like how bnha is basically identical, is it the same? Or is there a bit of difference *^*

I’m SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME FOREVER TO ANSWER - I bet you already found your answer elsewhere, but anyway the anime is pretty much exactly the same as the manga!!

Anon said:Back on the topic of hq!!! I find it funny how people ask about bok.uroo so much as if you dont like them anymore when they’re literally still your header, like if you didn’t care for them they’d think you’d change it to bakushima or something

I’ve literally thought about changing my header so often but then I look at it and I’m like….. my kids………… I can’t do this………………. not yet…………………. same for my icon tbh haha I love them too much rip

Anon said:Okay but what if Kirishima makes a really stupid pun and Bakugou just turns away with a curse and he’s just covering his mouth and quietly giggling into his hand because even he can’t believe he found that funny, and that is SHAMEFUL. And Sero in the distance is just looking at him, all disappointed. Quietly judging the fact that Kirishima and Bakugou are practically meant for one another.

You wanna know the best thing the absolute best thing? My very first bnha comic was something eerily similar to the first part of this ask! Only Bakugou was the one to accidentally make a pun - I’d link it but honestly my style was ridiculous back then so not happening, just know that I’m 100% sure that post is the reason why I keep on drawing bnha comics about puns, my very first post set the path for all the others to come hah a curse I don’t actually mind

Anon said:are you planning on starting another series? like the bokuroteru tattoo shop au you did (it was real dandy and rad) it was what made me find your blog, so i was wondering if you have any future plans for anything similar. i really like your blog lots, i hope you have a nice day!

Right now I don’t actually have any idea orderly enought to make a proper series out of it, rip - maybe in the future, tho! That one comic was fun to make, after all!! And thank you!!!!!!!!

Anon said:IM HARDCORE IN LOVE WITH TODOSHIMA THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR RUINING MY LIFE❤️❤️

I’M GLAD YOU LIKED HIM OH M Y GODS!!!!

#so many damn asks in this one #GAH i need to answer them more often my pAL S #anyway it's #seriously late im going to sleep now #that one drawing i mentioned will have to wait for tomorrow #anonymous

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bygoneboy · 8 years

Text

passengers (2820)

one week before hyperion reaches habitat 7, the pathfinder team is brought out of cryogenic stasis. their first obstacle: shouldering the weight of what they’ve left behind.

scott ryder/liam kosta. 5886 words, sfw, falling in love over improper use of the tempest group chat. written for fun 15 days before andromeda’s launch so everything is Probably Very Wrong

DISCLAIMER: this fic is not based explicitly on the andromeda gameplay that’s been revealed so far, but there are still a few canon bits hidden here and there. if you don’t want to read spoilers then please don’t read.

The first thing Liam Kosta thinks after six-hundred years of cryogenic stasis is: Am I awake?

And then, when it’s apparent that he is: We made it, right? Did we make it?

And after that he isn’t thinking much of anything but thank God, thank God– are the others–? Oh my God, thank God, because no amount of experience in the field could really prepare anybody for something like this, and they’d known that going in.

SAM had brought Doctor T’Perro out of cryo first, and she spends a few more minutes helping a blurry-eyed Lieutenant Harper find her balance before she turns to Liam. His joints are stiff and creaky as hell but he’d expected that much; he doesn’t feel too terribly groggy, his speech isn’t coming slow. It had been like a cold bucket of water to the face, waking up. And a bit like the spine-tremor feeling of falling and being caught, right before impact. He remembers going under like it was yesterday. He feels sort of sick despite himself, recalling how long ago yesterday really was.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for this, either, the impossibly absolute realization– a few relay jumps, six centuries of AI-navigated-drifting. Quick as the pop of a flash grenade, and the world they’d left behind is dead and gone.

It’d come up a lot during training, of course, they’d said no regrets, no attachments, say good-bye to everyone you know. Take count of what you leave behind, they’d said, and Liam had straightened up and done his best. He’d made peace with family, friends, everyone who mattered and a few that didn’t. He’d called up every ex he’d ever had, just to say– you know, whatever heart-felt sort of things had come to mind, it was nice. Or even if it hadn’t been nice, you were real to me, and I knew you, and you knew me. And by the next conscious month of my life you’ll be dead, your grandchildren will be dead, your great-great-grandchildren might be alive, depending on the progression of human medical advancements, and I’ll be eons away still feeling like I’m twenty-five.

Don’t let it get to you, they’d said; “Keep still for me,” says T’Perro, and tugs at his chin with her thumb and forefinger.

She sweeps the omni-tool past his eyes in a slow horizontal line. The bright spots stay etched into his eyes even after she lowers the beam. T’Perro’s face was the last thing he’d seen before cryo-sleep had kicked in, and the first thing he’d seen waking up. Six-hundred years. Yesterday. Still feels like yesterday.

He needs to focus on breathing. The rise and fall of his chest, lungs expanding and contracting. He ticks through every piece of advice he’d ever given to shock victims back during his work in the field, how he’d broken them from their glassy-eyes and sagging mouth. “Naturally,” T’Perro says, when he admits to feeling light-headed. She doesn’t seem too sympathetic, and considering the length of asari lives, he’s not sure she could empathize even if he did try to explain. “It’ll pass,” she says instead, matter-of-fact, patting his arm, putting away her equipment. “You’ll have more pressing things to worry about soon. I would tell you it’s imperative to be emotionally vulnerable, but I’ve read your file.”

There’s a lot in his file. “What’re you saying, doc?”

“That you know about vulnerability. Speaking as your psychologist, I’m not sure you’ll need me.”

“And speaking as my physician?”

T’Perro looks amused. “You’ve been asleep for six-hundred years, Kosta,” she says. “You can count on feeling a little sore.”

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SARARYDER: good morning sleepyheads!! is everyone up?!?

CORAHARPER: up and feeling good

LIAMKOSTA: ready for whatever’s out there

SARARYDER: scott where are u!! answer!!

SCOTTRYDER: This isn’t a personal communication channel, Sara. We’re only supposed to use this to share important information with the Pathfinder’s ground crew.

SARARYDER: :P

SARARYDER: blocked unfollowed

SARARYDER: anyway

SARARYDER: does the hyperion’s coffee taste like the bottom of a batarian shoe to anyone else

SARARYDER: or is it just me

…

Their long-range scans have given them a rough map of the area. They’d notified SAM to wake the Pathfinder and his crew about a week before reaching the first potentially habitable planet, to give the ground team time to prepare and everyone else a minute to breathe. Now that he’s awake, though, Liam sort of wishes that he wasn’t, that they hadn’t.

They’ve arrived in Andromeda thirty-four years late.

“Oh, what the hell,” says Harper, both of their jumpsuits unzipped around their waists, sweating through their tank tops in the drive core as they examine one of the ship’s fried engines. “What’s a few more decades under our belt, right?”

He knows she’s just trying to make light of it, keep her head up. It’s not like they can do anything about it now. But Liam has to bite down to keep his worry behind his teeth: the Hyperion will run out of energy eventually. And what if every one of their golden planets has already been settled? What if there somehow isn’t room for them? What if–

“Hey, are you just gonna sit there and watch?” Harper snaps him out of it with a well-aimed jab to his abdomen. “This strip-tease isn’t for you,” she says, flexing one bare, well-muscled arm, “could you try to make yourself useful?”

He pretends to hit her over the head with the wrench.

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SARARYDER: oh my god guess what you guys

SARARYDER: i was talking to sam this morning and i found out

SARARYDER: i am officially THE OLDER TWIN

SARARYDER: i came out of cryo 2 MINUTES BEFORE SCOTT

CORAHARPER: i don’t think it works that way

LIAMKOSTA: congrats?

SCOTTRYDER: Sara, why do you have to break up your messages like that? You know you can type everything out all at once, right?

SARARYDER: sorry baby bro

SARARYDER: am

SARARYDER: i

SARARYDER: bugging

SARARYDER: you

SCOTTRYDER: There has to be a way to mute this channel.

SARARYDER: if i know i aint tellin

…

Their Pathfinder calls them all together at 0600 and 2100 hours every day for short briefings, but there isn’t really much to say, not yet anyway. Mostly he gives ship status updates, answers questions if they have any, and reminds them to check in with T’Perro as often as they need. Alec Ryder has a practiced steadiness to him, the kind that reflects age and experience. He’s a bit of a hard-ass, the sort who’s fought fair and square for the right to be one. Beyond his military record and N7 credentials, Liam doesn’t actually know much about him– or about his son and daughter.

The fact that they were Alec’s blood hadn’t mattered during training. Most things hadn’t mattered during training, apart from what they were there to do, whether or not they could reave as well as they could shoot, how well they could work together. At face value the twins are joined at the hip: Sara is bright-eyed and approachable, she smiles easy, she’s passionate. Harper makes the mistake of asking about her work in Prothean research and Sara talks her ear off for two hours; later the same day Liam finds her trying to teach SAM what a joke is. He isn’t sure she gets any further than an asari, a turian, and a krogan walk into a bar.

She probably should’ve thought about trying it out on her brother first.

Scott calls his father sir, he smiles but it’s tight at the edges. Maybe base camp had kicked all the happiness out of it, maybe Alec had. But someone must’ve said drop and give me twenty one time too many, because apparently Scott’s face has stuck that way.

He catches him staring off into space during more than one briefing, fixed on something distant outside the conference room viewport window; sometimes there’s a look in his eyes that he can’t seem to place, far-away, dazed, like he’s been sleeping for another six centuries longer than the rest of them. Like he’s constantly cycling back to re-remembering where he is, two million light years from the galaxy where they’d began.

Sometimes he notices Liam noticing.

Which is how Liam learns that the Pathfinder’s son flushes as easily as Sara smiles.

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SCOTTRYDER: Can I get a status update from everyone?

CORAHARPER: habitat 7 shuttle is ready to go and everything should be running smooth down in engineering. liam finished repairs on the drive core last night

SCOTTRYDER: Great. Thanks, you two.

LIAMKOSTA: nbd, glad to help

SCOTTRYDER: Sara?

SARARYDER: yeah uh watch out dad’s in a mood

SARARYDER: he actually yelled at me this morning for agreeing with him

SARARYDER: he’s just pissed off bc i used up all the ship’s hot water when i showered yesterday

SARARYDER: and then he had to take an ice bath lol

SCOTTRYDER: Sara, seriously.

SARARYDER: ok fine one of the relays almost exploded but i fixed it, no sweat, ur welcome

…

On his down-time– and there’s a lot of it– Liam takes his protein bars, does his two hours of fitness, and showers. He’s started rearranging his locker, to keep himself busy, but they hadn’t really brought a lot with them. There’s really not much to move around, so when he’s tired himself out doing that he starts polishing his guns. And when he’s scrubbed his cartridges clean to the point of wear and tear he gets Harper to let him have a go at hers.

Eventually he runs out of distractions.

He starts thinking again.

Six-hundred years is a long time, even without being thirty-four years behind schedule. By the time they go planet-side, whoever’s already settled in will have passed them up with advancements far beyond their own. They’re at a disadvantage. There’s nothing they can do about it.

Six hundred years is a long time.

He shouldn’t be thinking about it. Which means he can’t stop thinking about it. T’Perro is right; he knows vulnerability. He’s been witness to all kinds of anxieties and fears, he’s equipped to wall off panic and reinstall calm, order, breathe. Go back to the start, why he’d joined the Initiative in the first place:

New beginnings, and the good of the galaxy.

For exploration, for progress and purpose, for the vast expanse of space that he’d dreamed of when he was young. Gazing out from the Citadel’s docking bay, staring up from London bridges, wondering where the stretch of stars ended. Where new worlds began.

For heroes, and everything they’d fought for.

He’d first heard of the Initiative while he was still working crisis response; his HUS-T1 squad had crossed paths with an Alliance support team and the plan for Andromeda had come up in the lapses between cycles. So much had sounded like a pipe dream back then– Reapers, Pathfinders– the sort of things that people talked themselves in circles about, things that never actually happened. But later he’d gotten a call from Ryder himself. And Commander Shepard had started stirring up trouble in military circles around the same time, pushing Reaper lore and calling for strengthened defense around Luna base. And suddenly pipe dreams had been as real as anything.

By the time news of Shepard’s death broke over military channels, Liam had started his training.

He remembers– he’d watched the funeral broadcast in the bunkroom with the rest of the trainees, packed in a tight circle around someone’s datapad screen. The Alliance buried an empty box; they hadn’t recovered his body. Shepard would want us united, Hackett had said in his speech, now more than ever, Liam remembers that so clearly. Remembers how everyone had felt like the Admiral had been talking to them: stand together. The galaxy needs heroes.

Shepard hadn’t been married, he didn’t have family. So when they folded the Alliance flag into twelve they’d handed it over to Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, and then the cameras had cut away– but not before everyone saw him bring the flag to his lips, and then his heart.

The galaxy needs heroes, said Hackett. And something to live for.

He’s pretty sure everyone in the Alliance had been a little in love with the commander. His military record was an inspiration, the guy himself could charm the armor off of a varren. Most of the squads Liam worked with followed every move he made, every interview he gave; Shepard showed one ounce of interest in a new brand of omni-tool and suddenly they were sweeping the shelves. Shepard bought a Model 12 Locust and Kassa Fabrications sold out of them the day after. The man couldn’t sneeze without someone scanning the area for leftover heat signals.

So there were always rumors floating around, fiction-based stories spread around in heavily commercialized pulp magazines and weeklies. Commander Shepard: Double Life As An Omega Stripper! Commander Shepard: His Secret Earth Gang Affiliation! Commander Shepard: Savior Of The Citadel Revealed To Be Half-Krogan!

Liam had tried to ignore them, for the sake of decent morality. But then the Collectors hit, and morality went murky for everyone, and Commander Shepard: Back From The Dead carried some real merit, real hope.

And Commander Shepard: In League With Cerberus? ended up running clear too.

All-in-all, Commander Shepard: Heartbreak On Horizon! wasn’t the hardest thing to believe.

Yeah, he read that one for sure, the guy who bunked across from him had sent a copy to him over the extranet. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it at least a little bit thrilling, the idea of a love affair between Shepard and Alenko– the hero and the guy at his back, the soldier going to hell and back and the guy following him there. It probably wasn’t the most worthwhile thing he could’ve been doing with his time before lights-out, fantasizing over someone else’s very real, very dangerous, and very immediate life– but oh, man, that last issue had sure been something to keep a romantic up at night.

Not that it kept Liam up at night.

Much.

Not that it’s keeping him up now.

He’s always had a hard time sleeping in new spaces– in this case, in new space itself. And he’s learned that it’s better to get his brain focused on something else than to stay staring up at the ceiling, so he grabs his datapad, hauls himself out of his bunk, and wanders over to the mess hall. He figures he’ll dig around in the rations cupboard, find some freeze-dried ramen or something, read a little more Blasto.

Apparently, someone else has already had the same idea.

Scott is there when he walks in, his back to the door with one arm bracing the fridge open, staring into the shelves like the answer to geth-quarian peace is stuck somewhere behind the evaporated milk cartons. “Hey,” says Liam casually, and startles him so bad that his grip on the fridge door slips.

He steadies again, quick enough to keep it from slamming on his hand. But when he looks back up his shoulders have squared, body language tense and nervous. He rocks back on his heels. “Hey,” he says.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Guess not. You?”

“Guess not,” says Liam.

They look at each other.

“Ryder,” SAM’s strange soft voice bursts static through the comm speakers, and they both flinch this time. “I’ve detected a significant change in your heat signature. Your heart-rate has also rapidly accelerated.”

“Wow. Uh–” Scott goes beet-red, eyes sliding away to a spot a foot above Liam’s head. “I’m good, SAM. I’m just– I’m great, thanks for, uh, sharing that, though.”

“Your well-being is my primary concern.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Analysis of your tone of voice implies sarcasm.”

Scott huffs softly and turns back to the fridge. “Good catch,” he mutters, yanking out one of the packets of freeze-dried ice cream and letting the door slam shut with a gust of icy air. “Feel free to go offline anytime.”

“Remember, Ryder,” says SAM solemnly. “Those packets are individually rationed–”

“Anytime, SAM.”

There’s a quiet chirp as he deactivates. And then it’s just the hum of the fridge, and silence.

The ice cream packet crinkles in Scott’s hands. “Sorry. He can be–”

“Yeah,” says Liam, shrugging like whatever even though he’s feeling a little hot in the face himself, “don’t worry about it.” Scott is still flushed around the edges– soft edges, squared jaw. Stubble-patched and tired lines. Liam’s still not sure what color his eyes are. Light. Gray? But sometimes blue, reflecting whatever comes his way.

“Well,” says Scott, and clears his throat, “it’s late. I should– go.”

Liam almost laughs, wondering for half a second whether that’s supposed to be a line. But then he remembers who’s speaking; Scott Ryder is the last person who’d try to pick someone up in a mess hall at midnight. “Okay,” he answers, sliding into one of the chairs with his issue of Blasto pulled up on his datapad screen. “Have a good night, then.”

“Yeah, I’ll– see you around? I mean, of course I will, I’ll see you tomorrow. At the briefing,” He’s going a steady scarlet, white-knuckling his neapolitan like it’s to blame for everything. “You– take care, Kosta.”

It’s not the fastest retreat Liam has ever been witness to. You can’t spend time with Alliance soldiers and not see someone’s heels beating up dust in your wake.

It does, however, cut it very close.

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

CORAHARPER: god i hope habitat 7 has better food than this

SARARYDER: what!? listen up that freeze dried imitation crab is to die for

CORAHARPER: yeah bc i’m more likely to die than enjoy it

SCOTTRYDER: Actually, the ice cream is pretty good too.

SARARYDER: oh my god stop the world my brother actually likes something

SCOTTRYDER: Shut up, Sara. I like plenty of things.

SARARYDER: okay fair

SARARYDER: for example

SARARYDER: you like sucking the joy out of life

LIAMKOSTA: and ending texts with periods

CORAHARPER: and staring at liam during briefings

SARARYDER: woooooow

SARARYDER: called tf out

LIAMKOSTA: that’s out of line, cora

CORAHARPER: is it though?

CORAHARPER: technically i outrank him

SCOTTRYDER: I don’t stare at anyone. I just get distracted sometimes.

SARARYDER: i’m lauhgin g

SARARYDER: ‘distracted’

CORAHARPER: sounds fake but okay

SARARYDER: cora pls

SARARYDER: cora i’m dying

LIAMKOSTA: are you sure that’s not the imitation crab talking, sara?

SARARYDER: ASDFGHJKL;

…

Living out of a shoebox means his whole world is in a locker, and maybe that’s why he keeps coming back to it. Dragging his things out onto the floor, scrubbing up to his elbow with an oil-stained cloth– for some reason, no matter how hard he works, it never seems any brighter when he stops to take a closer look.

He can think of a few real-life scenarios to apply that to.

“Hey,” Scott says, interrupting his train-wreck of thought and flipping his stomach over instead. “Do you have a minute?” He’s standing a good five feet back with his hands in his issued-Initiative-blues pockets, watching Liam sort through his stuff for what must be the fifth time at least– he would know if he was counting, he’s sort of trying not to, though.

“I’ve got more than a minute.” He wipes his palms on his thighs, then wipes them again when the sweat seems to stick. “What’s up?“

“Just trying to get a sense of where the crew’s at,” Scott says, eyeing up Liam’s ongoing project. “What– are you spring cleaning?”

“Whatever kills time,” Liam says wryly, lifting one shoulder, letting it drop. “How long until we hit Habitat 7?”

“T-minus three days. You ready?”

“Honestly, I’d feel underprepared no matter what. You can’t really be ready for something like this, right?”

“Right,” Scott echoes. “That’s…what I keep telling myself, anyway.” He shifts on his feet, restless, stiff-backed. At ease, Liam thinks, but whether or not it would help, he isn’t sure. “So, uh,” he gestures to the pile at Liam’s feet. “This is all you, huh. Give me the tour.”

He chuckles, but it sticks like the sweat. “Nothing impressive. Just a few things I grabbed from home, backed-up transmissions. I had my family and friends record some before we went under. Snagged some Corellian whiskey, too, and– oh, yeah–” He crouches down, fumbling for the Normandy model. “There’s this, heads-up–”

Scott catches it easy, one-handed. A spark of interest lights up behind his eyes as he turns it over between his palms, “Shepard’s ship?”

“Yeah!” says Liam, stupidly enthusiastic. “I mean, er– yeah. I don’t know why I grabbed it, it’s not great, like, practicality-wise…” He wipes at the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up. “It’s signed, it’s– got his signature. Not that I ever met him, the Alliance was auctioning it off at a fundraiser and I spent a quarter of my credit savings on it. Figured I wouldn’t need those here, anyway, so– you know? I thought, why the hell not.”

“You admire him.”

“I did.”

“Past tense,” says Scott.

He’s like that, Liam is learning. He really listens, pays attention, maybe more closely than’s good for anybody. His chest is tight, like it’s fit with armor two times too small. Shepard’s gone, he should say. They all are, everyone we knew. He’d known they’d be; he thought he’d been ready. But it just hadn’t hit him. Not until he woke up, and felt the weight of every century settle down somewhere in his gut.

Scott runs the tip of one finger over the starboard wing. “He was a good man,” he says, filling the space of Liam’s silence. “He had a good crew. What did you think about all that Reaper stuff, did you believe that?”

“Yeah,” Liam says quietly, “I believed it. I still believe it. Although I guess it isn’t really relevant anymore. Being– two million light-years away. And all that.”

“Not unless they’ve got Reapers here, too. You won’t be disappointed if we don’t find any, will you?”

Liam doesn’t laugh the same way Scott doesn’t smile; they both give it a try anyway. There’s common ground somewhere in the middle, there must be: a compromise, thick throats but steady hands. “Believe me,” he says. “I’m not holding my breath.”

“Me neither,” says Scott. “Not for that.”

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SCOTTRYDER: Hey, Liam. I really enjoyed our chat yesterday. We should talk again soon.

SARARYDER: what??

SARARYDER: oh. OHO

CORAHARPER: is there a reason you’re posting this on the team forum

SARARYDER: ohhhh boy

SARARYDER: ohhhh man

SCOTTRYDER: I apologize, everyone. I meant to send that privately.

CORAHARPER: how come you never have these “chats” with me?

SARARYDER: CALL HIM OUT

LIAMKOSTA: down, harper. jesus, you two

LIAMKOSTA: i enjoyed talking to you too, scott

CORAHARPER: consider my feelings officially hurt

SARARYDER: i love u all so much pls never change

…

Alec Ryder begins the next day’s morning conference with a not-so-gentle reminder that there are, actually, individual rations on the freeze-dried ice cream.

And Habitat 7, he announces, with his arms folded firmly across his chest, will most likely not be stocked with the stuff.

So whoever’s been sneaking extra portions should know that once it’s gone, it’s gone for good.

The subject is dropped after that and they move onto a briefing of local fauna from there. Across the table Scott is dead quiet, and very interested in the grain-pattern of the table; Liam has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, straight-out.

That night he goes back to the mess. But it’s empty and stays empty, through two (individually rationed) ramen packets and a quarter chapter of his now embarrassingly over-read copy of Blasto: Eternity is Forever.

“Liam,” says SAM. “If you are still experiencing difficulty falling asleep, there are multiple sleeping aids available in the medical bay.”

“Oh– no thanks, SAM. I’m good.”

“Perhaps I could attempt to improve your mood. Sara has often implied that humor is appropriate in attempting to lift one’s spirits.”

“That…depends on what your definition of humor is, I think.”

“I will proceed momentarily,” says SAM, sounding as pleased as an AI can manage to sound. “Scanning– transferring data files. Transfer complete: an asari, a turian, and a krogan walk into a bar.”

“Does the punchline involve Omega strippers and batarian shard wine?”

“Possibly.”

—

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SCOTTRYDER: hi everyone my name is scott

SCOTTRYDER: i like long walks on the beach at sunset and crisis response specialists ;)))

SCOTTRYDER: i also have an insatiable sweet tooth and fhdfdkjglkfjghksgohjlk’l;45

LIAMKOSTA: ???

CORAHARPER: oh my god

SCOTTRYDER: Fuck you, Sara!

SARARYDER: keep 👏 ur 👏 hands 👏 off 👏 my 👏 ice 👏 cream

…

The Hyperion isn’t called an Ark for nothing. It’s huge, on a new-age scale, and it’s frighteningly easy to keep to yourself, if you’re not careful.

That being said, Liam isn’t sure how he and Scott seem to keep managing to run into each other.

He wonders if this is just something else he’ll have to get used to: the mess hall door hissing open, his brain short-circuiting. Scott giving him that wonky not-smile and Liam thinking hey, thinking come here often? Fumbling for something smoother: what’s a guy like you doing on a ship like this?

Maybe he’d have better luck with something from Blasto. With false confidence: is that a thermal clip in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

“You should be getting some shut-eye,” says Scott, just honest, tired lines and three-day stubble.

“I was about to say the same thing,” says Liam, which is such a shit lie. “Are you back to check out the ice cream reserves? I’ve heard they’ve been dwindling.”

Scott flushes; Liam knew he would. “No,” he says. “Actually, I’m– SAM says you’re having trouble sleeping.”

Snitch. Liam glares half-heartedly at the comm, but the AI stays annoyingly silent, and Scott is waiting on an answer. “It’s nothing. I’m still just getting used to everything, that’s all.”

“He also says–” Scott looks troubled. “That you haven’t really…spent time with anyone else.”

Snitch! “SAM,” Liam says, exasperated. “Really?”

“I am required to report stress-induced complications of this kind.”

“Complications–! Scott, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” says Scott. But he doesn’t look convinced. “Well, I wanted to check in, just in case– I know you know this, but the worst thing you could do right now is–”

“Isolate myself. Yeah.” He does know; ergo, should know better. He’s seen it before, out in the field: division members who’d felt too deeply and seen too much, who stopped being seen at all. Separating from their squad. Becoming the ghosts of the victims they were too late to save.

“We could talk about it, if you want,” offers Scott. “Or– we could try something else? Stop me if you’ve heard this one before; an asari, a turian, and a krogan walk into a bar.”

Of course he’s heard it before. But he’s not about to stop him, it’s a classic. That’s sort of the problem with it, actually, you can never be sure which punchline was the original, which answer is meant to be the right one. There are so many damn ways it could go. An asari, a turian, and a krogan walk into a bar; the volus walks under it. An asari, a turian, and a krogan walk into a bar; only the krogan walks back out.

An asari, a turian, and a krogan walk into a bar.

The human shows up thirty-four years late and says, what’d I miss?

“You can’t give up,” Scott says, pulling a hand through his hair, “I don’t actually know the punchline.”

His ears have gone red, again, around the edges, eyes shifting: Liam’s started to commit that face to memory, every time he sees it. Locking it up somewhere safe, somewhere in the center of his chest, behind his bones. I won’t give up if you don’t, he could say. Or they could skip the bullshit and try again: A human walks into the mess hall at midnight, and Scott Ryder says ‘I should go’.

You know how many humans it takes to save the galaxy, Ryder? Twenty thousand and one: twenty thousand to leave before the fight’s even started, and Commander Shepard to stay behind and deal with whatever bullshit they’ve left behind.

“You’re worse than SAM,” says Liam. Instead of what he could, or should, or any of that. Instead of a heart-to-heart, a real one, for the sake of sanity and the rest.

“I know,” says Scott. “I really am.” He puts his hands in his pockets, tips his head toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s take a walk.”

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SARARYDER: hey liam

LIAMKOSTA: what’s up?

SARARYDER: hey scott

SCOTTRYDER: Yes?

SARARYDER: lol

LIAMKOSTA: do you need us for something or??

SARARYDER: nah just trying to settle a bet with cora

LIAMKOSTA: sara it’s two in the morning

SARARYDER: and yet…ur both up…

SARARYDER: suspicious…

…

The habitation deck is dark and deserted, with the Pathfinder crew all bunked away like good soldiers, the rest of humanity along for their cryo-ride. The only thing keeping Liam from tripping over his own feet is five years of field experience and the blue emergency lights, glowing softly along the hall edges.

“Everyone’s here for their own reasons,” Scott tells him. “My father calls it his responsibility. Sara says it’s her calling– turn here, it’s just around that corner.”

There’s the hiss of a door’s hydraulics; Scott steers him through, fingers steady at his elbow. Whatever room they’re in is even darker than the hallway. Scott is just a low voice, warm breath at his ear.

“Every time I went out past the Sol relay I could always map my way home. I could look up and know where I was. Even if we were right out at the edge of the traverse, I could look out and say, there, that’s Fortuna. And from there, the Annos Basin, and the relay to Arcturus, and I could work my way to the Citadel, just stargazing…SAM?”

“Yes, Ryder.”

“Open the observation deck shutters, please.”

Light filters in as the night-cycle shutters draw back from the viewport windows. He’s been on the observation deck before, but never like this, with the lights cast low and Andromeda’s stars painted from floor-to-ceiling. Definitely never with Scott Ryder’s hand splaying flat across his back.

“Maybe it was only in my head. But it was like a tether. Knowing I could map myself back home again, whenever I wanted.”

Focus on breathing. The rise and fall of your chest. Their arms brush when he shifts his weight, and Liam pretends he can feel the heat of him, the thermal clipped waves. I bet you bring all the girls here. “Earth’s a long way from here,” he says. “A long way, Ryder.”

“It’s still out there, though.”

Six-hundred years. Liam didn’t know it would be so heavy, all that leftover indecision mixing with doubt. Afraid to be left behind, of what he’s left behind. Afraid to be here, too, in the first real uncharted world of their lives.

“Scott,” he says, “can you tell me– why’d you join up?”

“With the Initiative?”

“Yeah, you know, new beginnings…?”

“Uh,” Scott looks embarrassed. “I don’t know, I just…Dad wanted Sara to go. And Sara, she did really want to go, it was all she used to talk about. And I’d spent so many years watching everyone else go off to fight, the adrenaline of it all, the glory…back then I thought I wanted that, too. So when Dad signed on, and Sara, too– I couldn’t stand the thought of–”

Pipe dreams, Liam thinks. Empty boxes and folded flags and being left behind, in a galaxy without a hero.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Scott says, very softly.

He’s close enough that Liam can see the shadow of his lashes against his cheek, and hear him swallow. He’s close enough to kiss; he wonders whether Scott would let him. He thinks there might be a sliver of something in his face that says he should, but maybe it’s just the light of stars they don’t have names for, reflecting off of the surface of Habitat 7. Maybe it’s just Hyperion’s low-power glow reflecting in his eyes, relay-blue and soft the way Liam feels, on the edge of everything unknown, on the verge of something incredible.

Those eyes would reflect anything.

“Ryder,” says SAM, “Habitat 7 is within range of short-distance scans. The Pathfinder is requesting your presence.”

Whatever spell had been caught between them, it’s broken now. Scott blinks and sighs, and rolls one shoulder. “Fathers,” he says, shaking his head as though it’s an old joke of theirs, but Liam knows better; Scott only has one joke in his arsenal and he still doesn’t know its punchline. “I should go,” he says, like a damn hero. “I’ll see you on board the shuttle.”

Despite the unknowns: Scott is going to carry him to hell and back; somehow, he’s sure of it.

Damn the unknowns:

Liam is going to let him.

“You know,” Scott says as the door hisses open, swiveling back around with his hands in his pockets, shy almost-smile and shoulders squared, “I think he’d really be proud of us– Shepard would, I mean, don’t you think?”

Liam’s heart thuds once, twice, out-of-rhythm. Skips a beat and then goes on beating, high in his chest, filling the hollow of his throat.

“Yeah,” says Liam. “I reckon he would be.”

…

[TEAM MESSAGE BOARD]

SCOTTRYDER: All right, team, we’ve got the green light. Who’s ready to set up some outposts?

SARARYDER: i’m ready!!

CORAHARPER: beyond ready

LIAMKOSTA: born ready

SCOTTRYDER: Let’s move out!

SCOTTRYDER: Liam, I don’t know what we’ll find down there, but I just wanted to tell you…there’s a lot I didn’t get to say, last night. But it’s been a real honor, getting to know you. And I promise you: I’ve got your back.

CORAHARPER: oh scott

LIAMKOSTA: why are you like this

CORAHARPER: poor scott

LIAMKOSTA: someone seriously needs to show him how to work this thing

CORAHARPER: scott come back

CORAHARPER: you can’t pour your heart out on the team forum and then leave

SARARYDER: THAT’S TWENTY CREDITS YOU OWE ME HARPER

SARARYDER: PAY UP

…

In the end, Liam thinks, as the shuttle engines flare to life, as the shuttle bay doors yawn open, as the Hyperion shrinks behind them–

Maybe they don’t need a punchline at all.

20,000 humans cross into Andromeda galaxy.

20,000 humans sleep for six-hundred and thirty-four years.

One human stares off into space and says: I didn’t want to be alone.

And the other says: I know.

The other says: you aren’t.

#liam kosta #liam kosta/scott ryder #is there a ship name yet?? uhhhhh #mass effect andromeda #me:a spoilers #mass effect andromeda spoilers #long post #read more #hal writes

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