#seriously guys read this essay

[justheretoposttrash]

day 4 of being incredibly normal about hawks and endeavor (but mostly talking about manga spoilers in general):

mha is a story incredibly interested in exploring generational support, generational abuse, and what people pass on to each other (alongside hand motifs and showing the childhoods of different characters). you pretty much can't get through any arc without running facefirst into a plethora of examples, but ofa and afo are fun (and perhaps appropriate) places to start!

horikoshi features doomed siblings almost as much as he features terrible fathers, and these two are no exceptions. alongside those versatile hand motifs, afo literally uses his hands to take from others, while anything he has to "give" goes to those younger than him, and it's pretty much always a direct vehicle for trauma. it works well that he's lived for such a long time, literally sustaining his own life thanks to hoarding more and more power and resources for himself, while also giving him that age hegemony over all other characters we meet. he thusly kinda becomes the mustache-twirly Evil Dad² in a metaphorical sense, ruining the futures of others as he attempts to write his own narrative exactly how he wants it (storytelling is also a big theme in mha, go figure. when i consider that one definition of trauma--as something that disrupts the narrative one has of themself--and how AFO hands out trauma also as a way of commanding power and controlling the narrative, it really all comes together).

Yoichi is, of course, opposite in so many ways, centered around giving instead of taking. the inception of ofa began as a (very, uh, heterosexual i'm sure) act of granting freedom and sacrifice.

the ofa wielders don't just give their powers to the stockpiling quirk; they also give their lives, through combat or through cutting their lifespans or both. opposite to afo's Big Mean Father² lifespan, the lifespans of the ofa wielders are very short. they sacrifice their own futures to make the futures of others brighter. and of course, through the act of passing on the quirk, ofa necessitates an act of giving from one user to the next. it's a hand-off of counsel, support, and duty that helps shape each receiver into the best kind of hero they can be. afo passes down trauma, and ofa passes down tools for one's betterment. pretty standard parallels to how a bad caretaker/good caretaker can, even through a single act, shape an entire existence younger than them. relatable! trauma nation rise up!! 💪💪💪

with these themes in mind, then, it's a no-brainer as to why mha features so many godawful fathers (also i'd bet a hundred bucks horikoshi has daddy issues. a thousand. a trillion, honestly. gimme money). though relationships that fall outside the clear-cut power-dynamic of a parent to their child still carry these themes well. peer-to-peer,

sibling-to-sibling, etc., the list of other examples goes on and on!

endeavor's character certainly straddles a lot of these ideas, perpetuating a lot of column A (bad) and a bit of column B (good). he receives trauma from his father in the form of spiraling thoughts about failure and mortality (and maybe those two things are totally equivalent, right?) ((they're not)). his response to that trauma then goes far in the other direction, an obsession with herodom and invulnerability (especially avoiding or punishing emotional vulnerability) that passes the trauma right down to his family. in all his desperation to avoid the tragedy of his father's death, he ends up causing the tragedy to repeat itself, this time with touya's (apparent) death. it's even a direct result of the quirk he gave to touya. every intangible and tangible thing touya inherited from his father would only go on to hurt him, and the worst thing that could possibly have happened does indeed happen. instead of coming to terms with the fact that he gave touya the wrong things---trauma and a fire to burn himself with---he gives more of the same to shoto. surely the same tragedy won't repeat a third time. surely what he passes down to his youngest will make him come out of everything gloriously successful and *alive* (and those two things are totally, definitely equivalent) ((and again, they're not)).

what blows my mind is just how close the todoroki family was to witnessing yet another repeat of the tragedy--that they might have watched endeavor die while failing to save someone, just as endeavor had watched his own father do the same---and that they nearly had to bury touya a second time.

similarly, when it comes to the past transferring to the future, childhoods are the foundations upon which peoples's futures are built. characters are not only shown in a state of emotional vulnerability when in Baby Form, but are also responding to and trying to find answers to each others's traumas and core drives.

in a sense, they don't just inherit their worldviews from the prior generations, but from themselves. when we see endeavor confront his younger self, he isn't only killing off who he used to be, but also all the conclusions he had drawn from his own childhood--a rejection of what his trauma response got wrong. most people have to learn to stop being cruel to their inner child, whereas his inner child is the cruelest voice within.

anyway, for all the Bad Shit endeavor has passed on to the next generation, the future and hope he provides for hawks is something else. despite all white-knuckled efforts, he doesn't end up saving his family, nor himself, and certainly not touya, but he saves hawks, and that one instance contributes to the entire idea of ofa and the question of what different people can give to each other.

as invested as hawks is in the future, he initially keeps himself pretty distant when it comes to those younger than him. there isn't much explicitly given as to why, but it's pretty natural to assume that he really doesn't have the tools to pass on anything healthy--not after what he's been given by others. the one good thing he knows how to give is the one good thing he's received, which is the act of saving itself. being a pro is the only language he has for the longest time, and once his back's to the wall and he has to give tokoyami whatever he can, we see how readily he assumes that what he has to offer just isn't good enough.

(not only did his parents pass trauma onto him, but in valuing or devaluing his wings and thereby making his worth always conditional, they also affected what he could then pass on to others ((or at least, how he conceived of what he could give)).)

in my view, hawks gives tokoyami flight and endeavor support, and from tokoyami he receives the idea that he's someone worth looking up to and fighting beside despite his shortcomings, while from endeavor he not only got saved as a child but also receives a proof-of-concept of the ability to radically change, to wind up in a morally/emotionally better place than where one started. (he not only contrasts himself against shoto for the kid's ability to forgive/work with his parents, but notably contrasts himself against endeavor due to the latter's willingness to engage with his past, which he views as a vulnerability but also as something admirable.)

given keigo's middling age in the main cast of characters and the interesting space he occupies, it's fitting that he would ultimately act as a sort of channel between the generations of heroes as of the finale, retaining some of the value from what came previously while also helping guide what comes in the future.

[foursidecity]

Having a passion for drawing comics and writing stories But only being good at writing prose is like. The worst kick in the gut ever ill have two characters in a room with 200 words of dialouge on their inner worlds that won't fit in a single panel let alone a page and the story will never progress because I can't get any dialouge out of them 🫡

[quatregats]

.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

It’s the way I woke up and immediately knew

[juniestar]

It’s ridiculous how men will talk 2 women they don’t find attractive or “cool”. Genuinely treating them like nothing at all. I asked a friend from college (who used to rely on me to get through writing classes) to keep an eye out for job leads in NY for me since I’m looking to move and he immediately rejected the ask bc he doesn’t work in broadcasting (like we studied). I told him well neither do I, I’m looking for anything, and congratulations on your move and he read it without writing back… man I got you through two or three classes and you can’t at least surface level agree to keep a fucking eye out? Come on

[jessielefey]

One should play the Drakengard/nier games in reverse publishing order in order to get the most out of them. Like how Bloodborne can be said as to "teach you how to play Souls games", Automata followed by Drakengard 3 followed by Replicant teaches you how to read Drakengard as a metacommentary in a way that conceptually proves "just starting from the first game in the series" is doomed to leave you confused and angry and heartbroken; in this essay I will...

[sisterdivinium]

That Sylvia didn't know from the beginning of shooting the show about Mother Superion having been a halo bearer before is absolutely wild based on her performance. Talk about intuition...

[milo-is-rambling]

Who was gonna tell me that reading is fun sometimes

[nereb-and-dungalef]

cursed by classes that are on an extremely interesting topic but with boring homework

[mrows-fan-works]

Chapter 46

Words: 2084

Rating: teen and Up

Tags: Can Wind get away in time? Also there is some cussing here be warned.

Also, the text was funny and made my OG text black? Im in dark mode so i changed the color to yellow so it can be seen. Im sorry in advance for how ugly she is.

EDIT: OKay. so i changed the text color but when she posted it changed it back to black and i dont have the energy to re-color every individual paragraph. Im sorry fam.

PSA- I had an annoucement last week on Ao3 and now the chapter numbers are off so don't worry!

Chapter 45 and Chapter 47

A03

Fire crackled. Steps walked around, squishing and plopping in the mushy earth. Wind felt mud seeping into his clothes, hair, and skin. It left him feeling chilled despite the sweat coating his brow. His mouth felt puffy and swollen. Swallowing was difficult, breathing more so. The Phantom Sword rested heavy in his hand, weighing his hand down and making it impossible to move. At least he was armed. That is, if he could manage to lift his sword enough to fight. 

Wind felt a presence settle next to him. Water sloshed onto his arms, staining his shirt. Goosebumps riddled his skin, making him feel nauseous at the sudden temperature change. The water made him aware of the burning in his chest. Injuries flared to life as the person next to him started poking his arm to grab his attention. 

“Geez, you sure the shrimp didn’t die out there Tez? He hasn’t moved since you put him here.” 

An exasperated sigh, “I swear to Hylia, leave the kid alone. If he wakes up we help him,” 

“But what if-”

“But he’s not going to get better if you keep messing with him, you daft idiot. I’m going to join the patrol, just watch him, got it?” 

Mud splattered onto him as the person stood and walked away, “Well fine. Forgive me for worrying…” a much quieter addition, “asshole.” 

Wind tensed. There were so many red flags in that conversation alone. He was wounded, tired, and surrounded. There was no way he wasn’t getting out of this without confrontation. It didn’t help that he wasn’t a smooth talker like Wars or just plain charming like Sky. Wind felt his hand creak and pop as he tightened his grip on his sword. Wind gritted his teeth and struggled to sit up through the pain. 

“Oh shit the shrimp is alive.” Rude. He couldn’t look that bad. Wind leaned against his hand for leverage to steady himself. Quickly toweling the crust off his eye he made sure to glare at the voice the second he was able to see their face. 

It took everything in him not to react. 

A perplexed Yiga stared back at him.

______________________________________________________

The horror stories that Wild had warned them with flashed through his mind with unexpected clarity. They had all laughed at Wild’s over-exaggerated poses and acting as he told how he out-smarted the assassins time and time again on his journey. Wind hadn’t thought it concerning before, but now? After the whole experience with the thieves and monsters, Wind didn’t think Wild was exaggerating. They were wearing red leotards and Wind spotted some bananas off to the side, currently untouched. 

Wind was certain that in better circumstances, he would have no problem out-witting them or fighting these two off, but Twilight’s voice in the back of his mind chided him for things like overworking himself and being reckless. (He was a Hero of Courage, didn’t being reckless come with the territory?) Unfortunately, Wind groaned internally, he was going to have to think his way through this. Wind barely managed to not flinch as his hand spasmed when he tried to grip his sword better. Why was it burning? He wanted to check it out but he didn’t trust the Yiga not to try something if he showed any more weakness. Well… any more than passing out and having to be saved from getting his head cut off but a stupid lizaflos. Hylia, how embarrassing. 

“Kid, yo kid!” Wind jerked back into the present.The Yiga's face was closer to him than he thought. He subtly shifted backwards as the man began to talk, “Dude, I thought you died. Damn, I lost the bet. I’m gonna have to pay up after they get back from patrol.” 

Patrol? Wind filtered the information for later while trying to swallow his growing anxiety. Wind was strong but he knew his limits. He had a feeling fighting a group of Yiga was far more difficult than being chased by lizaflos after a rough night. 

It left only one path for him to take. One that brought a smirk to his mind’s eye. He could already see Tetra cackling. 

Time to bullshit his way out of this, like a true pirate. 

___________________________________________________

 Fortunately, Wild had given Wind plenty of source material to work with. Although he didn’t have a handy, dandy tablet with magic he did know their weakness and it was sitting right behind the babbling Yiga who was still sitting too close for comfort. 

To think bananas would be his saving grace. 

Wind let the Yiga talk to himself, slowly forging a plan in his mind. It was stupid. Reckless was only the tip of the iceberg. It depended completely on how gullible these Yiga were. If everything worked out then Wind would be gone before the rest returned from patrol.

Step One: Bring attention to the bananas. 

Wind forced a grin as he was forced to pay attention to the guy rambling about tactics, slippers, and his favorite banana desserts. Wind managed to grab his attention when the Yiga paused to take a breath between subjects. 

“Actually, some bananas sound great right now. I’m a bit hungry after almost dying.” He made a big show of glancing around the campsite, “Ah! What about those bananas?” He smiled his best “I’m totally innocent, you can trust me” smile, “They’re your favorite right?”

The Yiga scratched the back of its head, “About that,” they looked down, “those are the boss’s bananas, we can’t eat those. Patrol was supposed to bring something back but….they’re taking longer than expected…” They trailed off, looking away from Wind.

Wind let the silence sit for a moment, “Well!” The Yiga jumped. “Does anyone else have something to eat?” 

“Um….no?” Well shit that was a problem. He really was hungry. This guy seemed like a nice person except for the glaring fact that they served in a cult bent on serving Ganon. Never mind, he’d have to skip the “snack” part of his plan. 

Sad,  but the show must go on.

Step Two: Stand up

Easier said than done. But Wind had done so in worse conditions (maybe). Wind slowly stretched out, wincing at the popping joints. Hylia, he was stiff. His battered body screamed in protest making Wind’s eyes water. Regardless, he smiled brightly at the Yiga. If he could see his face they’d probably look incredulous. But he couldn’t. All he could see was their dumb mask.  “Better get something then. Don’t want to starve out here right?” Wind gathered his things slowly, careful not to pull the wounds on his chest too much as he slung the -now suspiciously lighter- bag over his good shoulder before finally strapping his sword to his waist and walking away. 

Step Three: Make them underestimate you. 

The Yiga seemed to finally snap out of his stupor. They scrambled to catch him. “Hold on kid!” Wind stopped for a second, sparing the staggering Yiga a glance. “You can’t just leave!”

Wind blinked, “Why not?”

The Yiga sputtered, “Because!” They stood next to Wind, still too close in Wind’s opinion. “I gotta watch you before Tez and the others get back. You leave and I get my ass handed to me!” 

That sounded like a personal issue, but Wind kept up the charade, “Sorry man but I just wanna stretch my legs and maybe find a snack. I won’t go far I promise.” They looked at him for a second before sighing. 

“Fine, but stay close. The others should be back any minute.” 

Wind gave a mock salute, “Of course!”

Step Four: Lose the chump.

The plan was moving along without a hitch but WInd wasn’t out of the woods yet. Now the hardest part would be to sneak away from camp, avoid the patrol and  monsters, and somehow find Elenor who was probably losing her mind. A vivid image of Elenor running round swinging her ax at anything that got too close filled his mind. Wind shivered. He’d better get out of here as fast as possible and find her before she traumatizes the local wildlife. 

Wind walked at a leisurely pace away from the campsite.The Yiga watched him from the fire. Seems like he was serious about making sure Wind didn’t leave. Wind gave a bright smile and walked towards the abandoned village, making sure to look thoroughly at trees and the ground as he went. He periodically checked to see if the ninja was still watching. When their eyes were averted, Wind quickly dashed into an abandoned house. It stank of rotten wood and mold. The floor had sunk into the swamp long ago, forcing Wind to carefully walk through debris, mud, and stagnant water until he reached the doorway. 

Wind wasted no time in picking a direction. The house opened onto what remained of the village pathway. It was overrun with weeds and scattered pieces of houses that had been destroyed in the Calamity. The village was silent, there were no signs of life. Wind strained his ears to hear for anything approaching as he darted from house to house in what he hoped was the correct direction. The faster he got out of here and back on the road the safer he would be. The Yiga wouldn’t attack him on neutral ground right? It was a longshot. A longshot that depended on the Yiga adhering to the rules of common decency but it was all Wind could think of to do. After all, stables were right off the roads and the last stable seemed downright hostile to the thought of any Yiga breaching the perimeter. If he waited, maybe Elenor could find him there. Wind didn’t want to entertain the thought of traveling the rest of the way alone.It pulled at his heart just thinking about it. 

Shaking his head, Wind refocused on the moment. He’d have to worry about finding Elenor after getting out of this situation. Wind had moved through several houses now and that the one Yiga had most likely started looking for him. He had to keep moving if he wanted to escape. Water overtook the path ahead. The houses up ahead looked to be in a worse state than the ones before as well leaving Wind hardly any cover to hide against. It was suspicious that he hadn’t seen anything, or any-ninja, since ditching that one back at camp. Lukewarm water touched his calves as Wind crouched in the reeds in an attempt to camouflage himself. Fireflies lit up the grasses as their nightly dances began. The sun was rapidly approaching sunset as Wind darted through the rubble. No monsters had shown themselves. Wind was starting to think there weren’t any here. Perhaps the patrol had gotten rid of them all? The possibility didn’t sit well with him. That would mean these Yiga were stronger than he thought.

Well, it wouldn’t matter if he got away. Wind spotted another raised area that was dry. Several houses lay crumbling on top of it. Some cover was better than being exposed out in the middle of the field like a lost pig waiting for their shepherd. He banked towards it, hoping to find a clear path to the exit. Wind risked standing at his full height to alleviate his cramping legs. The first house was impassable. The roof lay in chunks on the ground, forcing Wind to go around the outside. He crouched behind a barrel for a moment’s reprieve when muffled footsteps shuffled nearby. Heart in his throat, Wind forced himself to keep breathing slowly as they stopped for a moment and continued getting louder as they got closer to his position. Standing slowly, Wind silently cursed the sealed top of the barrel. He couldn’t pry it off without revealing his location. He walked slowly backwards, ears trained on the sound ahead of him. He’d have to retreat to the field and find another route. Wind kept walking, crouched slightly in case he had to run. The steps were getting louder, the crunching gravel like fireworks in the night as Wind began speedily retreating towards the other side of the house. The footsteps, thank Hylia, retreated, Wind waited until he couldn’t hear anything before turning back the way he came. 

He had just made it to the edge of the field when a hand gripped his shoulder in an iron grip. Wind looked back. A tall imposing ninja jeered, “Well, what do we have here?”

[thawthebeez]

a friend recommended i watch an anime called Skate-Leading Stars and in the first episode they've established a childhood rivalry with an absolute dick of an antagonist, gave us an orphaned protagonist who is the embodiment of the phrase "monkey see, monkey do,", snuck in some casual stalking and kidnapping amongst other illegal activities, created an entirely new sub-section of figure skating that is a combination of pairs, singles, and synchro, AND made the protag pull off a quad flip after YEARS of not skating without dying instantly. dear lord.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

what's happening with James Somerton right now: a probably-incomplete primer

TW: suicide, including suicide as a threat and a manipulation tactic.

The short version:

James Somerton is a former Youtube essayist who focused entirely on queer history, queer media criticism, and queer issues in general. He is also a flagrant grifter who has made tens of thousands of dollars via fraud, both directly (lying about his finances to beg for money and getting donations for films he never even started making) and indirectly (stealing whole essays and articles and books, reading them out loud verbatim for his videos without indicating they were anything other than his own work, and then using the prestige he gained from using their work to get Patrons and sponsorships).

The story as told James and James apologists was that James attempted to apologize twice, was hounded mercilessly on the internet for weeks, and then, driven to the end of his rope, he posted a suicide note on Twitter, was MIA for several days, and from then on has been avoiding the internet.

The actual story, as revealed yesterday, was that James used two sockpuppet accounts to defend himself and parrot his talking points (again, while publicly claiming to be trying to take responsibility for his actions), using one to try to rebrand the con under a different name and another to deliberately stoke the panic caused by his suicide note. He was not only aware of the pain and anxiety he was causing people, but he encouraged it on one alt while hornyposting about his favorite movies on the other.

He is an unrepentant con artist who successfully used a suicide threat to prevent further interference with future cons. The only reason he was caught is because he is apparently incapable of going more than a couple of weeks without trying to get back in the internet spotlight, allowing people to tie his alts back to him. He lies for fun and profit and he should not be taken seriously, ever.

The long version:

In December 2023, Youtube essayist Hbomberguy (Harry Brewis) put out a four-hour-long video about plagiarism on the internet, and devoted two hours to addressing as much of JS's plagiarism as he could. I strongly recommend watching the entire thing, as the first two hours build on the concepts that he uses later in the video.

He also blew the whistle on James' fraud surrounding Telos, a studio James founded using thousands of dollars of IndieGoGo money that never actually produced any films despite him definitely working on them! Any day now they'll be released! Don't you worry!

A day later, Todd in the Shadows, a guy whose entire thing is music reviews, posted his own video debunking multiple outright lies that James had told about history, especially queer history. A few more days later, The Ace Couple, who run a podcast about asexuality, released an episode detailing how they'd lost $1.5k donating to Telos.

I have put the videos, Twitter threads, Patreon posts, and Reddit posts by other people discussing different aspects of James' fraud under the cut.

Every other time James was caught plagiarizing, prior to Harry's video, he would lie about it. Either he'd have some excuse (easily proven to be a lie) or he'd retreat to his favorite deflection: "I'm just being harassed because I'm gay."

This last lie was one he'd use not only to deflect accusations of plagiarism, but all criticism in general, no matter how trivial. Every time, the critic or someone associated with them would somehow dox him, or harass him, or send him death threats, or threaten to falsely accuse him of sexual assault.

This happened to The Ace Couple (who'd tried to correct him on something extremely acephobic in one of his videos), Jessie Gender (who'd tried to correct him when he claimed that there were no queer content creators on Nebula, given that she and a bunch of other queer creators were definitely on that platform), and the person who first blew the whistle on him stealing from Tinker Belles and Evil Queens by Sean Griffin (who was accused of being behind death threats he'd received, and hounded so harshly they had to leave Twitter).

It is important to note that every time James faced potentially damaging criticism, or even just a threat to his ego, suddenly he would claim to be harassed by people connected to the critic, including threats to his life. There has never been any proof of any threats being directed at him, nor evidence that, if the threats were real, that they are actually from people connected to the critic.

In the original video by Hbomberguy, Harry makes a compelling argument that James brought on a friend of his, Nick, as a co-writer specifically as a shield against accusations of plagiarism. "How dare you accuse me of plagiarism! Nick would NEVER do that!" This is even more apparent given subsequent developments which I will get into.

When evidence started dropping about different aspects of his fraud (not only Harry's video, but Todd in the Shadows' video debunking his misinfo, The Ace Couple's podcast about their experience donating to his fraudulent film studio, and Dan Olson's tweet thread about James' obvious lies about his finances), he went into hiding for two weeks, and then put out the first of two apologies. He then deleted that one and put out another one a few weeks later. And then he immediately deleted that one.

While his first apology was rambling, vague, and dramatic (lots of sniffing/crying), and his second was more measured, thought-out, and totally batshit (lots of hilariously and bizarrely implausible excuses for why he'd done what he'd done), they had roughly the same points:

Not ALL of his stuff was plagiarized! Actually, a lot of it wasn't! No specifics as to what, though!

Most of the stuff that was plagiarized was just a failure to properly cite sources, as he had no idea that putting someone's name in your end credits or video description (without specifying what parts are attributable to that person or disclosing that you are using their words verbatim) is not sufficient credit,

Also, he totally had permission, in some cases, to use their work verbatim prior to publishing the video (this is not true, and is disproven both in Harry's video and his own screenshots);

He definitely didn't commit fraud with Telos and would soon have a good explanation for where the money went! (he did not)

He was going to keep the videos up so that he could either donate the funds from any monetization to the fund Harry had set up for his victims or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing his work;

He lost his best friend (i.e. Nick) over these allegations, who absolutely definitely wasn't a scapegoat, except Nick was also responsible for a lot of the stuff James was being criticized for;

He was going to keep the videos up so he could either donate the advertising proceeds to Harry's fund for his victims (first apology) or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing the work he'd done; and

As a result of this entire ordeal, he had attempted either self-harm or suicide (he merely alluded to "doing something stupid").

Again, his response was to 1) downplay the severity of his actions or flat out ignore allegations against him, 2) come up with ridiculous excuses for his behavior, 3) throw Nick under the bus, and 4) claim to be in mortal danger. As far as I am aware, he has never taken any concrete action to make amends to any person, not even donating money to charity.

This was coupled with some kind of attempt to profit: monetizing his apology videos, closing and then reopening his Patreon right before the monthly charge cycle happened (totally to let people unfollow him, not at all as a grab for that money), creating a new Patreon under a different name, and changing his Twitter and Youtube handles to distance himself from the controversy while gathering new followers.

At one point (I forget if this was on Twitter or Instagram), he also said that someone had broken into his apartment due to the notoriety he'd received from Harry's video. I believe that was after his first apology, when people started to point out that he'd just changed the name of his Twitter and Youtube channel and had restarted a new Patreon under a pseudonym. (BTW, the pseudonym he used for his new Patreon was "The Gay Raconteur"; this will be important later).

It had what I think was the desired effect: any attempt at pointing out that he was rebranding his grift now came across as weirdly fixated on minor things he was doing, which certainly wasn't worth putting him in physical danger. (Again, he has never provided any proof of this happening, nor provided any evidence that these people allegedly threatening him were, in fact, in some way inspired by Hbomb).

So along comes March 5, 2024, and James posts a suicide note on his Twitter, saying that he is going to set up his videos to automatically publish (for Nick's portfolio), provide in some way for the ad revenue to go to a suicide prevention nonprofit, and then kill himself.

The immediate response from the internet was compassion and totally chilling any further criticism, since you might be callously criticizing a dead person. Harry and Kat worked for a couple of days to get a wellness check for him while a substantial section of the internet called them murderers.

On March 6, a day after the note was published, Nick tweeted that that he had cause to believe James was fine. Kat confirmed that James was safe on March 11. Due to the drama of the "suicide attempt," however, the chill on criticizing James stayed in place for months.

And then yesterday Lady Emily, one of the cowriters for Sarah Z., drops two more bombs:

James has not one but two alt accounts that he was using to rebrand and start over.

The first one was created between his first and second apologies, and originally was for "The Gay Raconteur" until he changed it to "Will"/"thatgayyouknow" and, later, "The Achillean Boy."

The second one was much older, under the pseudonym "Mikey JB," and used stolen pictures from Grindr instead of his own face. However, it is pretty obvious that it is, in fact, a sockpuppet account and not just some other person who happens to like James, as detailed below.

Both accounts, both between apologies and after his "suicide," talked about how criticism of James was unfair because the plagiarized stuff was "like a decade old" and repeating the same excuses that James had also made.

The "Mikey JB" account not only supported James, but actively threw Nick under the bus, saying that a criticized part of a video "reeks of his co-writer."

On March 6, the day after James' main Twitter posted the suicide note, The Achillean Boy account was hornyposting about Ryan Phillipe. James didn't even take a day or two off of Twitter. If he had been completely off Twitter for a couple of days, that could have been an indication that he really had hurt himself and was unable to access his phone, or at the very least unaware of the panic. But he wasn't. He was aware of it and did nothing. Actually, no! Worse than nothing!

On the same day (March 6), the Mikey JB account was actively contradicting Nick saying he was okay (they "haven't spoken in months" so there's no way Nick could know if he was alive) and saying that "people like you" i.e. his critics, "drove him to it." Not only did he ignore the panic he'd intentionally created, he actively drove it.

He saw people going emotionally through the wringer over the idea that they might have somehow caused his death, and intentionally made them keep thinking it. He say people calling his critics "murderers" for "driving him to his death," and he joined in.

Why am I explaining all of this? I want to make a couple of things extremely clear, and the context is necessary to my ultimate points, namely:

James Somerton didn't merely "credit people improperly;" he conned his followers out of more money than some people make in a year with the Telos con, while raking in thousands more per month on Patreon and buying expensive equipment, while claiming to be near insolvency and in desperate need of money.

James Somerton has never taken full responsibility for his actions or attempted to make amends. He has only ever tried to dodge responsibility, particularly by throwing Nick under the bus.

Every time he has ever been criticized, for any reason, he has lied about threats to his life to gain sympathy and quell criticism. This is a standard part of his MO. He has done this over and over and over again. At this point, I think if he says the sky is blue, someone should go out and check first before doing anything.

"But BB, what if he really is getting harassed/threatened or really is suicidal?"

So, okay: people who are attempting to manipulate you may use legitimate problems as a tool. It doesn't need to be fake to be effective - in fact, it might be more effective if it it's true. An abusive ex who says "if you leave me, I'll kill myself" and genuinely means it and actually attempts it (and possibly even succeeds!) is a lot harder to leave than someone who says the same thing but is clearly just bluffing, because the threat is real.

My rule of thumb in these cases is to treat the threat like it's real, without caving to the intended manipulation. Whether your ex is lying or telling the truth when they say, "I'll kill myself if you leave me," the appropriate response in both cases is to immediately call a mental health service or supportive family member. If it's fake, it's inconvenient for them; if it's real, you reacted appropriately. Your response needs to be the same regardless.

You don't get back together with them because it's a real threat (presumably you wouldn't do that if you knew it was fake and they were never in any danger), and you don't tell them that they're a piece of shit who should be dead (HOPEFULLY you wouldn't do that if you knew for a fact that they were telling the truth).

In this case, I am extremely confident in saying that he was coldbloodedly lying the entire time and was never once threatened, and certainly not to the degree he claimed to be. But even if he wasn't, that does not and should not change anyone's behavior in terms of holding him accountable.

And I mean actually holding him accountable: making sure he doesn't try to start a new con on new people, continuing to point out that he hasn't paid anyone back for his previous con (so long as it's still true), that sort of thing. It doesn't mean people should tell him he should go die for real or, I don't know, try to get him fired if he gets a job at Tim Horton's or Target or something else that's not fraud. That would be wrong regardless of whether he's actually in danger or not. The point is to avoid being cruel without negotiating with terrorists.

Video sources and links under the cut:

Links:

It's like Breaking Bad, but backwards: a brief history of how Somerton successfully screwed himself Dan Olson's Twitter thread about the financial fraud My Year With James: Todd's post explaining the backstory of his video (Patreon-locked) DJSO#: Dan Olson's breakdown of James' second apology (Patreon-locked) Lady Emily's Twitter threads revealing James' alt accounts, part 1 and part 2

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

[duck-in-a-spaceship]

Okay we need to talk about the Mars stripes

Now you might be thinking: What? What stripes? Mars isn't very stripe-y.

And you'd be right! I mean, just look at the guy

Lots of craters, beautiful burnt-orange color, even some ice caps! But no stripes.

And yet, for a long time, people thought there were stripes on Mars. People looked up into their telescopes and saw stripes on Mars. And they wondered, as you might be wondering now, what the hell are those things?

The first person to observe the lines was astronomer Giovanni Schiaparelli, in the late 1800s. His extensive maps of Mars labeled the lines as "canali", hypothesizing that they were waterways linking the dark patches he suspected to be vast oceans on Mars. Not a terrible theory. Obviously not correct, but not terrible. Not super interesting, either.

Then, Lowell wanted in the game.

Soon after, in the 1890s, the channels on Mars gained their biggest fanboy: Percival Lowell. He was obsessed with Mars, quickly diving into observation under the best conditions, discovering new canals that he transcribed onto detailed maps, just like this one:

Lowell believed that the channels were a complex irrigation system spanning the entire planet, surrounded by dark patches of vegetation.

From this, he speculated that there must be a sophisticated, highly-developed society living on Mars to create the canals, but one that was facing a desolating landscape created by receding oceans. The only way for these extraterrestrials to continue to get water was to bend it to their will. Furthermore, he reasoned that Earth, Mars, and the Moon were all connected; they were similar bodies that were simply in different stages of development.

The Earth was in the earliest stage, still young and full of life. Mars was in the next stage, rapidly deteriorating but still able, through the incredible efforts of its inhabitants, to support life. The Moon had, sadly, passed on to the final stage. It was dead, airless and filled with deep craters. In other words, Lowell believed humanity could look up and find our future in the skies, carved into the surface of other planets.

These weren't fringe theories either, Lowell became a wildly popular astronomer for his studies on Mars, many people supporting his theories. And honestly, looking at where humanity is headed, he might not have been that far off.

Except for the part where he was, literally, extremely far off.

Because there are no lines on Mars, there are no channels, there are no canals, no irrigation, no vegetation, no advanced civilization fighting for life against the elements. There's just... Mars.

So what are the lines?? Why was Mars stripey???

Well, like I said in the beginning, Mars doesn't have stripes. But it does have craters. Groups of craters and other natural features occurring on the surface of Mars had, when viewed through the grainy lens of 19 century telescopes, blurred together into lines. That's it.

And because of that one, simple scientific blunder there was, for a brief moment in history, not only stripes on Mars, but life.

Anyway go read The Sirens of Mars by Sarah Stewart Johnson! It's very good and where I got most of this information.

[hazard-symbols-that-fuck-hard]

Okay time for the PBS Kids essay

Read it under the cut!

:readmore:

In 1968, before there was PBS Kids proper, there was Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. While it came several decades before the children’s block, it laid the foundation for the themes and values present in every facet of the network’s history.

Mr. Roger famously hated children’s programming at the time. To him, it all was droll and useless. But he didn’t dissuade the medium entirely— he saw potential. Potential that led to a few smaller television jobs, and eventually the creation of Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.

Rogers didn’t invent educational TV for children, but he did perfect it. He poured real heart and soul into probably the most sincere, heartfelt program in history.

Honestly, he could have his own essay. The more things you learn about the real man of Mr. Rogers, the more you’ll like him.

Anyway, the biggest thing that makes PBS different is the fact that it earns money through grants, fundraisers, and private donors— not through sponsorships and merchandise sales. This way, PBS Kids can push programming that it feels is important, rather than programming that merely sells well.

This also means PBS is less afraid of pushing social boundaries. Money doesn’t go away when their shows become subjects of debate— and Mr. Rogers took full advantage of this.

For context, this was 1969. The Jim Crow era had just barely, barely ended. Pool segregation was still very much legal.

Mr. Rogers sharing a pool and a towel with the Black Mr. Clemmons was a pretty big deal at the time— especially on a show made for children.

Rogers was far from the untouchable sacred cow of today. When he was alive, he had a large number of detractors. Let’s just say that scene didn’t fly nicely by everyone.

Just one year after the debut of Mr. Roger’s came Sesame Street.

While Mr. Roger’s was made for all children, Sesame Street had the explicit goal of supplementing the education of underserved communities— especially inner-city Black (and later Latino) children.

While it was made to be accessible to children of all races and income levels, they definitely went the extra mile to make it something special for inner-city Black and Brown kids. (Why do you think it it’s “Sesame Street” and not “Sesame Cul-de-Sac”?)

At the time, a wholesome, sweet show set in a brownstone street was practically unheard of.

Jon Stone, the casting director, deliberately sought to make the cast as rich with color as he possibly could, bringing on a huge amount of Black talent such as Loretta Long, Matt Robinson, and Kevin Clash, as well as featuring Black celebrities as guest stars. Later, the show would expand its horizons, bringing on actors from Latino, Asian, Native American, and many more backgrounds.

White actors were and still are a minority on show.

In addition to letters and numbers, the purpose of Sesame Street is clear: make kids of color know that they’re smart, beautiful, and loved.

It doesn’t get more explicit than this.

I want to point out this comment because it’s funny

You’re telling me this bitch isn’t Hispanic???

Anyway, these two were followed up by Reading Rainbow in 1983. And guess what?

That’s right. Non-white focus.

These three shows, (along with other, lesser-known programs like Lamb-Chops Play Along, Newton’s Apple, and Shining Times Station (who featured Ringo Starr himself?? seriously how did that happen and why does no one talk about it) and some other nostalgic favorites like Bill Nye the Science guy, The Magic Schoolbus, Arthur, and Thomas the Tank Engine) aired on the new PTV block, which evolved into PBS Kids in 1999, bringing along Between the Lions, Dragon Tales, and many more.

Arthur is another stand-out that I’d like to talk about— it doesn’t have the same racial focus of Sesame Street, but it does focus on different income levels. The characters have various housing situations, from apartments to mansions to no home at all.

It also takes cues from Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s in regards to talking about tough topics, though as Arthur has a slightly older target audience, it discusses things through stories rather than talking directly to the audience.

Cancer, religion, workplace discrimination, along with current (at the time) events such as 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina are all discussed on the show.

Another big focus on Arthur is disability. For once, they don’t stick a character in a wheelchair and then pretend he’s not in a wheelchair. A striking number of major characters either develop or get diagnosed with physical disabilities and/or neurodivergences, such as asthma, severe food allergies, and dyslexia, and they deal with them in very realistic ways.

A handful of minor characters have more obvious disabilities, and THANK GOD they go beyond the trite messaging of “disabled people can do everything abled people can do! everyone clap now!”

One episode in particular has the awesome message of “holy shit stop trying to help me all the time— it’s patronizing as fuck. I can get around just fine without you stepping on eggshells and trying to be the hero all the fucking time”

There are sooo many other shows I could talk about, but I can’t write about them all. I’m definitely gonna point out some more standout ones, though.

Sagwa, the Chinese Siamese Cat

Created by Chinese-American woman Amy Tang

Dragonfly TV

Features a multitude of female and non-white scientists to foster an interest in science with kids in those groups

Maya & Miguel

One of the network’s first Hispanic-led shows

SciGirls

I shouldn’t have to explain what the goal of this one was.

Molly of Denali

When was the last time you saw a show that treated Native Americans as people? Much less a children’s show? 90% of the cast is Athabascan, and the show revolves around Athabascan culture, not shying away from topics like boarding schools and modern-day racism. Most of the writers are also Athabascan, and the show even has an official Gwich’in dub!

It’s this commitment to real, authentic social justice that makes PBS Kids so much different from its competitors. Could you imagine the Paw Patrol dog looking at the camera and earnestly discussing what happened to George Floyd? I don’t think so— but Arthur talked specifically about it, Sesame Street did an hour long special about race in general, and the network itself made a 30 minute special.

Disney Jr. could never. (Other than trying to teach colorblindness, of course.)

I’m gonna have to cut this into two parts, since I just hit the image limit

[taesanrot]

[from the start] taesan x f!reader | 4.0k words college au, classmates to lovers, making out, alc consumption ++ terrible drunk decisions lmao, angst kinda, misunderstanding, mutual pining, fear of physical touch at first, everyone is just a little confused note. sorry this took literally so long to finish, i kept changing my mind on how i wanted it to go. fun fact the original idea for this fic was based on my real life situationship. hope u guys enjoy <3

you shouldn't be here. you should be sleeping off the alcohol flowing through you in your own bed, at your place. you shouldn't be here, pressed against taesan's chest, your mouth molded against his.

up until a few hours ago, han taesan was nothing but a fleeting memory. just someone your friends brought up once in a while to watch the way your cheeks flared up in embarrassment. he was part of the past, an unfortunate moment during your freshman year in university. your friends didn't know about the guilt that ate away at you every time the boy's name crossed your mind.

the two of you had met in english, deskmates who bonded over the frustrations that came with your shitty professor and endless essays. complaining about class turned into hushed whispers while the professor wasn't looking, adding each other on socials and snapping silly pictures back and forth, walking back to the dorms together. because... why not? taesan was cute and you couldn't help but chase the feeling that came with every interaction you two shared.

you never thought it would turn into anything, until your friends pointed out the obvious: he liked you. taesan liked you. the way your hair flowed so prettily, the way you smiled at all of his stupid pictures and the way your eyebrows furrowed at the professors nasally voice.

the two of you had an undeniable connection, and it ended with the two of you sitting on his bed watching a movie together on his roommate, sungho's, tv.

flirty glances and brushing hands turned into his hands running up your arms, breath hot on your neck as you tangled your fingers in his dark hair. having him like this should've felt like heaven, but instead your chest tightened and your body tensed, to the point where taesan pulled away from you, looking into your eyes and softly asking if this was okay, if you were okay.

you should've told him the truth, you were just scared. you hadn't done this before, not with someone who you felt so deeply for. you just wanted to slow down a bit. but instead you faked a smile and just said that you remembered something your friend had asked you to do, ignoring the stab in your chest as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you pulled away uncomfortably quick and left without another word. that was months ago.

the last you'd heard from him was hours after you left; he'd apologized profusely, saying he'd misread things and you tried and tried to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. you wished he could read your mind so you didn't have to face the fact that you were a coward and you'd hurt him in the process.

taesan thought that night would be the last time he'd see you. he could tell something was wrong, and he'd figured that you'd never want to see him again. but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to blame you, hate you, nothing.

...

"seriously? you're not mad.... at all?" sungho sat up in his bed, staring at his roommate in disbelief. "dude, she literally led you on and ghosted you." jaehyun chimed in, shaking his head at the younger boy. taesan shrugged and went back to tuning his guitar, covering up the sounds of his friends' scoffs with the vibrations of the strings he plucked. they thought he was hopeless, and secretly, he agreed.

...

after months of radio silence, it was safe to say that taesan was not expecting his phone to ping with a message from you.

you tried to move on from things with the music major, joking away your pain with your friends and going on dates with other guys. it worked for a few months, but eventually thoughts of han taesan caught up to you. they plagued your mind for days on end.

late at night, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you wondered how things could've been different if you'd just told taesan the truth. you thought it was easier to just run away and pretend nothing happened between the two of you, that you'd be at peace if you just went back to before you knew he liked you, before you knew you liked him too. in the end, it just left you feeling empty.

you hadn’t ever met anyone like him, something you hadn’t ever admitted out loud. you couldn't go back to the way things were before, he'd left an imprint on your mind like no one else.

the thoughts you tried to smother finally came up to surface on a breezy saturday night as you were celebrating your friend, yunjin's, 21st birthday party at her apartment. after more than a few shots and the truly you split with yeri, you felt like you were on another planet. you stumbled over to the living room, falling onto the couch and leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

after a few minutes of sitting with your intoxicated state, you lazily unlocked your phone, scrolling through your instagram timeline, attention focusing in and out. that was until you came across a certain set of pictures. you squinted, reading the caption.

tae23san take my tears @psungho @myungj4e

pictured was none other than taesan, sitting on top of a car with his head tilted back to look at the sky.

sitting up slightly, you carefully scrolled through the dump of photos taesan had posted: him posing in the booth of a recording studio, he, sungho, and jaehyun in a photobooth, a candid of him playing the guitar, a mirror selfie with sungho, and a solo shot of him.

the last picture almost took your breath away; he posed with a hand ruffling his own hair as he pouted his lips.

all at once, you felt every emotion you fought so hard to drown explode in your heart. you missed him. so much. your head spun with sadness, guilt, and longing. you wanted to- no, you needed to see him.

it wasn't long before the thoughts popped in your head.

why don't i just text him?

whats the worst that could happen?

it was bad idea, a terrible idea truly. but you couldn't help yourself, you opened your contacts and found your chat with him faster than you could blink. you fumbled with the screen, trying to type out a cohesive message to the boy you so desperately wanted to see.

[1:53 a.m.]

y/n: taesnjsnnnnn

y/n: i miss you

y/n: i'm soryry

y/n: can i swee yuo? please

...

taesan was hoping to have a peaceful smoke with his friends. he, sungho, and jaehyun had spent the day working on a project for their advanced music production class, and were now sitting on the couch passing a blunt around, some rnb songs floating softly through the air.

taesan breathed in slowly, sucking in the laced smoke and exhaling it softly, humming at the warm feeling in his limbs. he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, laughing at the feeling of the vibrations against his thigh.

"this is done for." jaehyun mumbled before flicking off the ash and placing the end on the side table. taesan watched him with hooded eyes as he stood up to stretch out his limbs, making sungho and taesan giggle.

"i'm going to my room." sungho stood as well, murmuring a similar quip before meandering over to his door. "don't forget to turn off the lights, san."

taesan groaned in acknowledgement, letting his head fall back onto the couch. not really wanting to sleep, he wondered if he should watch a movie or make some food.

the boy sighed in boredom, pulling his phone out of his pocket languidly and swiping through his notifications.

his already blown out pupils grew even bigger at the sight of your name in his notifications. he'd never gotten around to deleting your number -- he figured there was no point.

his eyes focused on the words next to your name. 4 unopened messages. he rubbed his eyes slowly.

was he really that high right now? or did you really message him. taesan's gaze jumped over to the timestamp.

10 minutes ago.

he hurriedly clicked the notification, tapping his thigh with his fingers as the screen expanded to display your texts. you were clearly a bit out of it, taesan smiled at your typos. his vision seemed to laser focus on the one text you didn't misspell.

i miss you.

taesan couldn't say he didn't feel the same way. despite sungho and jaehyun's relentless nags, he thought about you more often than he'd like to admit.

somehow, he knew something was up the fateful night the two of you had hung out. that wasn't you, he just knew it. or so he told himself. he didn't want to be mad at you, he didn't want to hate you. he had hoped for this day so many times. the day you'd tell him you didn't mean it.

taesan's fingers moved across the screen slowly.

[2:08 a.m.]

han taesan: hey

han taesan: where are you?

...

from the moment you hit send, you had suddenly been more alert, thoughts racing a million miles a minute.

what do i do if he responds? is he even awake? he just posted, he has to be. god, i hope this works.

you'd taken the leap, there wasn't any going back.

you begrudgingly lifted yourself from the couch you were sitting on, looking for your friends so you could take your mind off of the messages you'd just sent.

walking over to the fridge, you grabbed a water bottle to help you sober up a bit.

eunchae and chaewon did a great job at keeping you from checking your phone every thirty seconds. you laughed at their horrific job at playing pictionary against two guys yunjin knew, anton and sohee.

your two friends were losing bad, and you smiled watching anton and chaewon bicker, anton giggled at chaewon's reddened face. you hoped you'd remember to tease her about it later.

your phone buzzed twice in your pocket and you held your breath as you fished it out and tapped the screen. face to face with taesan's messages, nearly shrieking, you quickly typed a response.

you paused for a second, calculating your next move. you really wanted to see him, praying to god that he was free and willing.

[2:09 a.m.]

y/n: yunjins place. in source complex

taesan: oh

taesan: what room

y/n: 204

taesan: im 3 floors up

taesan: in 511

y/n: can i come up

taesan: yeah of course

while you were definitely a little more sober than 15 minutes ago, you still fought to not squeal into your hand. looking around, you searched for yunjin so you could bid her goodbye.

...

mellow music still floating in the air of the living room, taesan dropped his phone in his lap. he let out a shaky sigh.

whether it was the weed or the fact that he was about to see you after what felt like forever, taesan was suddenly very nervous, wiping his hands on his pants and slowly standing from the couch.

rubbing his arms, he looked around the apartment, unsure of what to do until you got there. he assumed you'd take a bit to leave your friends apartment and make your way up to his. taesan hoped you'd make it okay; he wanted to come get you but was honestly way too fucking high to leave his apartment.

"i guess i'll go brush my teeth or something." the boy mumbled to himself, walking over to the bathroom to fix his hair and make sure he smelled okay.

...

stepping into the elevator, you looked at your reflection as the doors closed, almost forgetting to hit the button for the fifth floor in the midst of smoothing your hair down and fixing your slightly smeared eyeliner with your thumb.

closing your eyes, you lightly rubbed your temples in a sore attempt to bring yourself back to reality, and to emotionally prepare yourself.

you were seeing taesan again, finally.

you hid your blush from literally no one and smiled slightly into your hand as the elevator doors opened.

...

standing in front of the boy's door, the weight of the situation at hand truly hit you.

what exactly did you want from this?

what did you want from him?

if you ended up hurting him again you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself. huffing slightly, you brought a hand up to your neck to fiddle with your necklace and think.

your dazed yet racing thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door to taesan's apartment, door swinging back to reveal none other than the music major himself.

"hi" you smiled and spoke quietly.

even though he knew you were coming, the boy somehow still couldn't believe the sight in front of him. it was really you.

you looked as breathtaking as ever in his eyes, your hair a bit shorter than the last time he saw you. taesan caught himself and chuckled slightly, moving out of the way to make room for you.

"come in."

you blushed as you stepped into the apartment awkwardly, not sure what to do with yourself. the alcohol was still making your head spin, eyes adjusting slowly to the sight of taesan's living space. you slipped your shoes off quietly and followed the boy as he walked into the kitchen.

"do you want some water? or snacks? we have chips and fruit, unless sungho ate them all. i think we have some juice too...." taesan's high had clearly not worn off in the slightest, and the boy winced after realizing he rambled on about the contents of his pantry for a full 30 seconds.

you couldn't have cared less, eyes focused on how pretty his hair looked brushed down in his face. making eye contact with him, you noticed the red tint to them, giggling quietly.

"we also have -- are you even listening?" taesan smiled at your starry eyes as you shook your head and laughed.

"god y/n- okay let's just go sit down." he watched you eagerly turn around and nearly skip towards his living room couch, settling right in the middle of the sofa.

the couch cushions were soft as they rubbed slightly against the exposed skin of your legs. shivering slightly, you wished you'd worn a bit more than just a crop top and denim shorts.

your gaze traced the lines of the wood on his coffee table, thoughts lost and scattered. you were just as blown away at the sight of him as he was of you. you recalled the sight of his larger hands shoved in the pockets of his zip up, wondering what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your own.

you wriggled your socked toes to a beat only you could hear, trying to take your mind off of the nervousness flowing through your veins.

"here." you looked up quickly to see taesan standing in front of you, about an arms length away. "i brought you some water."

taesan bit his lip to keep himself from smiling at the sight of you on the sofa. he looked around awkwardly for a second, not sure where to sit -- you were in the middle of the couch and choosing either side of the sofa would leave him sitting directly next to you.

"why are you still standing? come sit." you tilted your head at him and patted the spot to your right softly, smiling up at the nervous boy.

sighing out in relief, taesan plopped down next to you and settled into the corner of the sofa. you turned slightly so you could face him as he spoke, glass of water abandoned on the coffee table.

"do you wanna watch a movie?" he asked.

"is it okay to turn on the tv this late?" you shyly responded

taesan's ears turned slightly red in embarrassment. he 100% forgot about his two other roommates sleeping soundly in their own rooms.

while they probably wouldn't mind the noise, taesan didn't want to have to explain why you of all people were in their living room at this very moment.

"if you're okay with it, we can watch something in my room, i can play it on my laptop." taesan spoke.

your cheeks burned slightly at the idea of seeing the boy's room but you hummed in agreement, standing up quickly. the sudden movement caused you to stumble a bit. taesan stood up after you, wrapping a hand around your arm in an attempt to steady you.

"are you okay?" he turned you to face him fully, hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he looked at you worriedly.

your breath hitched at the mere inches of space between the two of you. taesan's gaze left you speechless, and your eyes searched his face before landing on his lips.

for every minute that had passed since you sent that first fateful text message, the anticipation had been eating you alive. deciding you couldn't take it anymore, you pulled yourself up by the collar of the boy's hoodie and pressed your lips against his.

his mouth was plush and unmoving against yours and you let yourself close your eyes and savor the feeling for a moment before lowering yourself back onto your heels.

opening your eyes, you mentally geared yourself for the awkward conversation you feared was about to ensue. taesan, on the other hand, barely gave you a moment to breathe, chasing your lips the second they detached from his. slipping a hand behind your neck, he tilted his face down and sealed his lips over yours once again.

taesan's mind raced as he bit your bottom lip, wondering what this was going to lead to and if he'd regret it. he decided he couldn't care less when he felt you tilt your head to the side and push your tongue in his mouth.

you craned your face upward and grabbed the sides of his sweatshirt tightly, like he might disappear if you let go of him. you needed more of him.

you broke your lips from his for a split second to ask where his room was. taesan mumbled something you couldn't hear before pulling you by your shoulders. the boy's mouth didn't leave yours for a second, only pulling away to push his door open.

you opened your eyes slowly, looking up to meet the taller boy's hooded gaze. you turned around and took in the sight in front of you. taesan's bed was in the corner of the room, posters hung above a small desk. you smiled at the tangles of wires on the floor, leading to a small speaker system and bass guitar.

"gonna go turn off the lights and check the door." taesan's voice rasped. you hummed in acknowledgement and stepped forward into the room slowly.

you walked over and climbed onto the boy's bed, bringing your legs up so you could hug your knees. staring at your socked feet, your mind was completely blank. when taesan came back you were absentmindedly fixing your hair and shirt, not even noticing the boy's return.

"are you okay?" taesan asked softly.

you looked up to see his eyes on you, smiling at the way hands were politely tucked behind his back. he was nervous, hoping he didn't overstep or make you uncomfortable. taesan didn't think he could handle watching you run out his door a second time.

"okay?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"with this... being here with me." your heart panged with sadness, feeling so guilty for how you made him feel before. you wanted to make it up to him.

"i am. i want this. i promise, taesan." you watched taesan slowly process your words though his wavering high, smile forming on his face. his hands came up to push your legs down, and you scooted towards him, giggling and wrapping your legs are his standing figure.

taesan had abandoned his hoodie in the living room, now in a loose t-shirt. your hands scrunched the fabric of the graphic tee as you pulled the boy towards you again. taesan complied without a word, bending down to meet your awaiting lips. you moved your lips against his languidly, savoring each swipe of his tongue against yours.

taesan pushed your body backwards so he could climb on the bed with you. you scooted back until you were pressed against the headboard, only staying there for a second before taesan pulled you onto his lap.

his lips went to your neck, pressing soft kisses and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. with each kiss, bite, and swipe of his tongue against you, taesan could feel you practically melting into his lap. eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back to further expose your neck and your fingers tugged at the boy's hair.

you slightly pulled taesan's face away from you, bringing your hands to gingerly cup his face. his eyes were slightly glossed over as you placed a wet kiss on his lips.

the last traces of your sobriety were thrown out the window, both of you drunk off each other. taesan thought you looked like an angel, bringing a hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. your eyes formed crescents as you smiled at the boy, and he swore he almost stopped breathing.

your hand came up to rest over his that was still cupping your face, intertwining your fingers. bringing them closer to your face, you opened taesan's and placed a featherlight kiss in the center of his palm.

"what was that for?" taesan mumbled in between giggles as he watched you continue to play with his fingers.

"thank you." your voice wavered slightly, eyes looking up to meet his nervously. you laughed at the puzzled look on his face before continuing.

"for giving me a second chance and letting me come over." you sighed shakily under taesan's gaze. "i missed you, a lot."

"probably not as much as i missed you." taesan replied softly, squeezing your hands and tilting your chin up to meet your wide eyes.

the moment that passed between the two of you was long and drawn out, you savored the feeling of weight being lifted off your chest. trapped in his eyes and tucked in his arms, you couldn't fathom missing the chance to have han taesan like this.

as the thick silence dissolved and taesan's aching lips found yours again, the two of you knew staying away from each other was ill-fated from the start.

[bonus — 10:54 AM]

blinking the sleep from your eyes, you lazily searched taesan's fridge for a water bottle. as you shut the door, a loud crash abruptly pulled you out of your sleepy daze. coming face to face with myung jaehyun, you let out a yelp of surprise.

"no fucking way." he spoke. a bowl of dry cereal lay at his feet, contents now strewn across the kitchen tiles.

ears turning red, you realized how insane you must look: your hair was untied and messily brushed down and you were wearing nothing but an old tshirt and some boxers taesan had given you.

"what happe- oh god." taesan said from behind jaehyun, having rushed over to the kitchen to check on you. it was safe to say the last thing he expected was to see you and his roommate staring open mouthed at each other. flustered, taesan opened his mouth to explain, but jaehyun interrupted him with a loud sigh.

"fuck you tae, now i owe woonhak 20 bucks."

...

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