#like why is my focus drawn to that specific little moment
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MORE THOUGHTS ABT VAX THESE EPISODES!!
Vax ONCE AGAIN sees his corpse in his reflection. He’s a dead man walking. And it’s reflected above him in the water then again in the goop of the monster, a reversal of what he saw in eps 5 when he saw the Matron’s mask emerge out of the flames.
Something about the Feywild seems to be out to get him, and he notices it. There is something about that conversation with Percy by the lake (not only because it directly and visually parallels their conversation at the end of eps 4) that is so striking to me in that he is beginning to really realize the effects of what he has done, and wants to seek answers.
Percy’s “I wasn’t about to give up on you” contrasts directly to Vax’s “I feel like I’m going down a path you can’t follow” (NOT TO MENTION how Vax faces away!! His face falling into shadow!!) and is a bit of foreshadowing that makes me wonder a bit about how the final three episodes of this season are gonna play out for team Half Elf + Percy, especially since we didn’t see where they ended up after walking through the portal in eps 9.
Perhaps a brief return to Vasselheim since there’s that shot of the interior of the Matron’s temple in the trailer?
#The Legend of Vox Machina#tlovm spoilers#tlovm#tlovm season 2#critical role#critical role spoilers#vax'ildan#percy de rolo#The Raven Queen#there are just so many little moments that have made me go hmmmmmm#especially on my second watch#I am excited to see how it all plays out#I love so much that even though I've watched the campaign I am still surprised and impressed by the storytelling#especially how intentional the little special details seem#like why is my focus drawn to that specific little moment
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now playing... "distractions"
pairing | student part timer!jaemin x student!reader
synopsis | a single cup of coffee actually has you waiting for more.
genre | more 3am fluff thoughts, y/n has down bad syndrome, mentions of food, no specific prns are used (lmk if i missed anything!)
wc | 0.9k
notes | here’s a little something for my bday while my other jaem fic is still in progress <3 i also have a recent addiction to writing down bad!reader rn so… that explains this a lot 😄 likes and feedbacks are always appreciated!
m.list
you sit at the corner table of the quaint cafe near campus, an array of colorful textbooks splayed open in front of you, but your attention keeps drifting away from your studies, and you think you can pinpoint the exact reason why.
na jaemin, a face you’ve seen bearing smiles more often than not from behind the register as he takes down your regular order of coffee during your visits. the two of you shared a couple of classes together, but neither of you have actually tried striking up a conversation with the other — instead, sticking to the comfort of your respective friend groups.
you were never distracted in class because of him. you never even looked his way once! okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but your point still stands…
today, however, everything seems different. each time he passes by your table to distribute orders, your gaze turns almost against your own will, mesmerized by the effortless charm he exudes and his gentle movements as he serves drinks for other patrons with the brightest smile on his face.
this was exactly why you couldn’t get anything done, god!
“come on, focus,” you chide yourself internally, patting your face a couple of times as you try shaking off the allure of your classmate, but every time you finally to return to your textbooks, you see jaemin smiling at you from the corner of your eye, and suddenly all your efforts go poof in an instant with the sound effects and all.
frankly, the lack of progress you've made has begun to bother you more than you care to admit. you can’t afford to slack off like this today, not when you have a final exam coming up that’s worth 80% of your entire grade, and so you do what any other person would — pack your books up in defeat and prepare to return home in hopes of focusing better — but jaemin has other plans in mind as he approaches your table with a small coffee cup in hand, a poorly drawn smiley face doodled onto its side.
“y/n, right?” he says with a playful grin, “i couldn't help but notice you've been here a while. thought you might need a little pick-me-up for your study session.”
you look up in surprise, not expecting him to address you directly — this was the first time the two of you were speaking to each other, after all. a rush of excitement floods your senses, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. “oh, thank you jaemin,” you manage to sputter out despite your puzzled state, a faint surge of heat creeping onto your cheeks. “did i… look that tired for you to offer me this?”
jaemin’s chuckles at your words, eyes sparkling. “maybe, but a part of me just wished for you to stay here longer.”
he noticed you were getting ready to leave? moreover, he noticed and decided to make you a cup of coffee on the house?
you take the drink from him, feeling a tinge of elation at his cheeky answer. “you must like having me around then.” you reply teasingly.
“i could say the same about you with the amount of times i've caught you staring.” jaemin replies with a raised brow, crossing his arms together and pretending as if you were in big trouble. no way did he catch you... you made sure to be lowkey and everything!
you gawk at his response before mimicking his accusatory stance, “then... that means you were staring back to catch me stealing glances in the first place. you aren’t as innocent as you think you are.”
“caught me all red-handed.” he raises his hands in the air but he doesn’t hold an ounce of shame, a feathery chuckle escaping him. “you don’t usually leave this early though, what’s the rush today?”
“i can’t concentrate on my notes because of a certain someone.” you huff in faux frustration, hoping he’d take the jest.
“really now?” jaemin laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, his voice tinged with teasing amusement. “if that’s the case, wait for me after my shift, it ends in around ten minutes anyways.”
you raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his suggestion. “why should i?” you question out, trying to maintain a casual tone despite the flutter of intrigue in your chest. “so you can distract me even more?”
his grin only grows wider after hearing you admit to how you’ve been so affected by him today, “so i can explain the topics to you, silly. you’re studying for the statistics exam, right?”
your eyes widen in surprise, caught off guard by his astute observation. “how do you—”
“we share the class, remember?” he interrupts, his confidence evident as he leans in, voice low and enticing. “so, what do you say?”
you hesitate for a moment, the thought of spending more time with jaemin felt both thrilling and nerve-wracking because you're not sure whether you’d pay attention- correction, you’re not sure if you’d pay attention to your studies, or forget it all once more to admire his features, but ultimately, the prospect of getting help with your studies outweighs the reservations you harbor against it.
“right… okay then. i’ll wait.” you finally agree, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch jaemin’s expression light up in response.
“good, i’ll be back quick!” he exclaims, though his feet fail his words as he hasn’t even taken a single step back yet.
“dummy, go back behind the counter before your manager tells you off!” you reply with a quiet snort, and he rushes back to his position as per your command.
guess you have a reason to stay here for a bit longer now.
#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#jaemin#jaemin fluff#nct imagines#nct drabbles#nct dream imagines#nct dream drabbles
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Hello! I wanted to send my appreciation to you as a longtime fan of OSP and Auroura! I am an English Major with ADHD and your content always makes me inspired and my English Lit. Brain very happy with how good your storytelling is.
My question is what stories inspire you to write or make you want to sit down and tell a story? Your content makes me want to work on my projects, but my Adhd only last as long as I am not disturbed (i.e. need to eat or get up and move). You have always been upfront about your Adhd so my second question is how do you keep focused on your story and not burn out? (Talking as someone who is writing a novel as their thesis)
You have been a great inspiration over the years and someone I look up to as a storyteller! I wish you focus and luck! => 💝
Woo! Interesting questions!
When it comes to inspiration, I haven't really found a pattern for what works and what doesn't. The majority of the time, only new experiences/stories I haven't seen or read before work for me - rewatches and re-reads, while much more comfortable for my brain, don't tend to translate into creative inspiration for me - but it's not like a specific genre, or even a specific kind of relaxation, consistently work for me.
The way my brain works is a bit "no take only throw", as it were. I want to just sit down and make solid, steady progress in a predictable environment with a routine, but what I need is to try new things, go outside, take risks - because all those things give me new material to work with and refill the creative gas tank. When I'm stuck, I can't just hit the gas and punch through the block - I need to back up and try a new angle.
The good part of all this is that whatever engine that's running my subconscious is actually pretty good at signaling what it needs. The ADHD brain will be repelled by activities that aren't working for it and drawn to the things it needs at the time, whether that's creative energy or exercise or cleaning or doodling or listening to music or suddenly binge-watching a show that's not even all that great, and once it's got what it needs out of it - whatever that is - it'll be repelled again, either spitting out a sudden burst of creative energy or retreating to its den to chew on whatever it got out of the experience for a more slow-building reward. Little bursts of motivation and creativity pop up all throughout the day, and if you can pivot to the activity in question - or at least note down the idea you just had - you'll be able to harness that pretty nicely.
This "system" really only works for me because I have an extremely unstructured schedule and nobody relying on me to be consistent moment-to-moment. If I'm following the creative needs of my inscrutable Better Writer In The Back Of My Head, I can't be worrying about things like a consistent lunchtime or classes or a 9-to-5. All of my observations are caveat'd by the fact that I am ridiculously lucky to have the kind of freedom of movement and schedule that I can focus entirely on getting to know my brain better.
When it comes to staying focused on any one project, I've reluctantly concluded that the only way to win is not to play. Creativity needs time and diversity to recharge, and when you stall out in any given work session, it's usually because you're out of gas. This is why I maintain several projects in varying stages of "for my eyes only"-ness - a sketchbook, private writing projects, patreon doodles, music practice; even in the large-scale projects like the channel and the comic I have multiple angles of attack at any given time, where I can as needed switch between scripting, research, drawing frames, storyboarding more plot onto the end of the comic's current draft and lining/coloring/background-ing the finalized pages of the comic chapters earlier. This lets me maintain semi-steady progress on average, even if any one facet of the process is left by the wayside for potentially even weeks at a time.
If you're working on one writing project, one novel, I'd recommend giving yourself some time to do small-scale side-hobbies. It won't feel like they're helping, but they are.
I've started to think of inspiration rather similarly to the way I think about nutrition and digestion. It's a somewhat arcane process that, despite being a part of me, I don't exactly understand what's going on under the hood. If you eat only one thing, no matter what that one thing is, you're going to end up sick because you're lacking all sorts of niche micronutrients. If you parcel out a specific space of the only things you're allowed to eat, you might not get sick (as quickly) but you're likely going to become increasingly miserable as you think of the things you're not allowing yourself to try, or slowly build up highly specific forms of malnourishment by avoiding certain things entirely. But if you start listening to your body and try eating what it says it needs at any given time - oh, I could go for a rice bowl right now, oh I don't think I'm feeling something sugary today, man I could really go for some grapes - you're likely to hit a broadly good balance of health because you're hitting a broad range of things your body needs, even if you don't know all of their names or calorie counts, and your body is putting those resources to good use without your conscious input. Between my brain and my stomach, I only trust one of those to actually understand what a stomach needs to do its thing - and between me and my creative brain, most of the time it feels like I just work here.
I hope there was something helpful in all this!
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@dandenbo asked me for the art asks:
🎠What is a typical 'workflow' for a piece from idea to finished?
It turns out to be a long answer so here's its own post, under the cut to save your dash!
How I go from screenshot to painting:
(This is not intended to be a 'this is how you do it!' kind of guide. I absolutely don't do an optimal route, this is just how I go about painting and what works for me! I've done a workflow for a screenshot to painting as I do a few different things but this is one I could explain somewhat coherently. My comics tend to be created pretty chaotically lol)
1) I take an ungodly amount of screenshots while playing. Also pester friends for their screenshots or stalk the group discord for interesting shots.
2) Go through all those screenshots cursing why I took so many, looking for those great moments that I want to paint. I’m particularly looking for nice poses/captivating moments, dynamic lighting or interesting expressions, and they don’t need to have all 3 as we can fix some of that in the next step.
Here’s the screenshot I chose for my Keahi x Thane piece:
It was a cute, soft moment between them and I liked the highlight at the edge of their profiles.
3) Refine the screenshot.
I don’t use anything fancy for this. I game on windows PC, so I open up the screenshot with windows photo editor. I crop the image, play around with saturation, exposure, contrast, just basic editing until it looks tastier. For this piece I wanted it to be hyper colourful and vibrant, leaning towards warmer tones.
4) Decide what I will change, then gather references for those changes.
In this case I was fortunate that not a lot needed changing. I knew I wanted to move Thane’s eye position to looking at Keahi rather than the way he is slightly off focus, do a more realistic ear with earrings for Keahi, make Thane a little more smiley and lower his eyelid and give Keahi nicer eyelashes. I keep a whole bunch of art guides and tutorials on my PC so I grabbed the necessary ones and sent them to my ipad ready to have on hand for the sketch stage. I have Thane’s character model in XNApose, so I can check things like his eyelid specifically in that (this is actually for a different project but shows you what I mean)
If I was going to change up the lighting/shading I would also gather references for that. For example sometimes i’ll take screenshots of lighting schemes I love from films/tv shows (think the strong teal and orange scheme in Mad Max or the neons of Blade Runner). Or for precise shadows, I can again use XNApose. I also have a little 3d printed Thane head I can shine a torch at and take photos of to get shadow ideas. For humans there’s lots of reference to be found with online searches, I find pinterest more useful than google for this. For specific expressions or body parts, i’ll just take photos of myself (hand poses, smiling from the right angle etc.) My camera roll is an interesting place. I have drawn drell frills on my neck and on my chest before to see how the lines would fold at certain angles.
5) Setting up a canvas
I work in procreate. For a piece like this I try to go pretty big, say 5000 x 4000 pixels, then i’ll crop down later as needed. 300 DPI.
As I work, I’ll make duplicates and continue on the copy each fresh session. When i’m finished I make a backup save of the PNG and .procreate files on an SSD.
I immediately turn the background colour down to a more muted colour to not burn my retinas. If i’m using a textured background like an oil board i’ll insert it, and any overlays like canvas effects. Set up my layers from the start basically for easy toggling throughout. I try to be good and label things to make life easier, it doesn’t always happen though.
I don't wear a digital glove or use paper effect screens but I do have a bottle of screen cleaner and a microfibre cloth handy at all times.
6) Sketch.
I’m still very much learning to draw. I tried for a long time to do the classic ‘ball for a head, draw the planes/lines etc. It was a constant struggle and never clicked for me, the ball especially always made things much worse, turning a circle into a 3d image in my head just does not happen. I find it better to just start drawing and work things out as I go (I use procreates reference window to see my screenshot).
So I’ll have my sketch in one canvas, and i’ll also have a second canvas with the photo ref on it at the same size, and if I feel like something is really wonky and off i’ll test my lines over the photo to see what’s gone wrong, then go back to the sketch and correct the areas that revealed. Sometimes I’ll use the grid feature if i’m getting stuck.
Here's a few of the sketch stages:
Here I tried out the lines on the photo and noticed that Thane’s frills were a little too far to the left, and Keahi’s eyebrow needed to arch down towards the nose.In the next pass I correct these:
Also, and I know i’m gonna get side eye from some people for this but I really could not care less to be honest. On some pieces i’ll just trace the screenshot. Sometime I just want to get to painting, am not in the mood or mindspace for a learning experience, and this is a hobby. It’s my screenshot, no one is getting ripped off. My latest Javik piece was done this way 🤷♂️
6) Painting.
I’ll start by blocking in the background and the portrait flats, usually on separate layers. I try to have an idea of the background colour from the start as this can effect the whole piece overall, but sometimes you just gotta change it as you go so having it on a different layer makes this much easier.
The painting itself I’ll lay down wider areas of colours, then start going in and refining bit by bit, I tend to work on one area at a time, and sometimes I’ll get pretty well rendered on a small area before moving on, other times work on a wider area. It really depends on my mood and what i’m vibing with that day. Like you can see here I’ve done some general messy colouring all over Keahi, but done a lot of refinement on the eyeball:
7) Finshing the piece, uploading and testing:
When I’m sick of rendering the painting and don’t think I can add anything more to it without gnawing my own wrist off, it is time to finish up! I make sure I toggle all the layers I want on, add a top signature layer (lol I lie I forget this all the damn time). Then i’ll upload the piece to my google drive and open it up on my big 4k monitor on my PC, and on my phone, and see how it looks (my ipad is a 9.7inch air). I find that once off my ipad, it often looks a little less saturated and contrasting as it does in procreate. So I might go back and change the levels if it’s too big a difference until it looks decent across devices (it’ll never look perfect on them all though, just gotta find that happy medium).
8) Posting online
I really don’t have any strict steps for this. I know some people go for optimal posting times, and will make multiple copies of their pieces in different sizes to fit better on different sites (damn you instagram and your need for everything to be square). I… do not do any of this lol. I post when I’m done whatever time or day that is. I do tend to reblog/retweet etc before I go to bed, as I live in the UK and that will at least be getting into evening time in US. I reblog my own stuff a fair bit.
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When It Comes To Us
⟿ college!au, friends to academic rivals to lovers, competition, mutual pining, study buddies.
summary: although he laughed at you the first time you met, you were instantly friends, but that five year law program brings out competition, brings out the worst in you. thankfully it takes maybe one or two study sessions to get back into a grove, and maybe one of those study sessions is less about studying.
includes … unprotected sex/pulling out, oral sex (f / m receiving), facial, fingering, hickeys/marking, penetration, missionary sex, dom/sub undertones (re: some slight begging); it’s pretty vanilla sex, sorry.
author’s note ... this is the old fic that I mentioned when I said that the debate episode renjun reminded me of a specific old fic. I also edited to be slightly longer and more cohesive. the formatting was bad on the last one, so i reuploaded it a third time. DO NOT come into my inbox to criticize my fic or tell me that it is written badly.
anger management problems renjun enthusiasts, dni.
network tag: @neohub
word count: 15,8k (sorry)
do not reblog without comments
bots + minors do not interact
You wander around just outside the student experience center, nose buried beneath a campus map, eyes glued to a poorly drawn sharpie trail that one of the “orientation leaders” (air quotes because he seemed as equally lost and inexperienced as you) traced. The library has to be here somewhere, you wonder before glancing up.
But the moment your vision changed scenery, you walk right into a cement column, forehead colliding first with the inconveniently placed architecture, making you stumble ass forward to the ground. As you rub the new, hot mark above your brow, praying to God that no one saw anything, a sirenic laugh calls your ear, soft and throaty – something to make you fall in love at first listen. You peak around the empty space, gaze coming into a playful glare then pout when you spot someone laughing at your misfortune.
He walks over to you with nothing helpful, like an ice pack or magic band aid, except a hand to help you up, but his smile looks like it could heal the deepest wounds, and you immediately assume he came from the science department.
“Hey,” he greets, a small smile tugging his lips and even smaller bow dipping him right below your eyeline. “I’m Renjun. Are you also lost?”
The pain recedes quickly, quicker than you anticipated, letting your stomach fill the silence with little pokes through your abdomen to chest. Hopefully, walking into cement did not leave weird texture along your hairline for this really cute boy to spot; otherwise, God, you might as well perish on the spot.
His half-circle eyes crescent upward with the apples of his cheeks, and future you will swear that you met at night, despite (future) his better recount of this meet-cute taking place during the bright, autumn day – either way, Renjun’s happy features ground you, making focus on everything he has to say, to offer.
“Wait a minute.” You pull your hand out of his, holding up your palm, and you miss the way his eyes briefly follow your motions. “Too?” Your eyebrows come together; head tilted slightly to the right, searching his eyes. “Why? You’re also lost?”
“Yeah,” he nods, biting his lip. You nod back at him, still searching; you don’t feel your smile lose its curve until Renjun pushes his bottom lip through his teeth with his tongue, licking the seam open. “I, um, I was looking for the financial aid office but my RA [resident assistant] directed me toward the library.”
“Oh, thank God,” you nearly moan, reattaching yourself to his thin bicep, like he touched you with The Hand of God. Confusion takes its turn on Renjun’s face, his head flexed to the side again like deepening a kiss with Eris, neat brows coming together over his pretty eyes, so you snap your hands away. “Sorry, I just meant that I’m looking for the library,” you clarify. “One of the orientation leaders handed me a map, then set me off to the second star on the right without further instruction. I’ve been lost for, like, -“ You push your sleeve up your arm, reading your bare wrist, again missing Renjun’s smile. “– 10 minutes, maybe.”
“Well, it’s just around the corner in that direction.” He points behind his shoulder. “Go straight until you see the gymnasium, take a left by the counselling offices, then a right at the education building, and it should be in front of the pharmacy department.” Renjun tries directing you physically, pointing his index finger this way and that, as if touching the map still in your hand. Once he turns back to you, an accomplished smile finishing his thought, you are in the middle of nodding again, mouth falling open, only to inhale. “Or,” he drags out, internally debating for a second as your body perks up, “I could show you where it is.”
You beam at him. “Please? Will you? That would be … amazing, and really helpful.” You sigh, teeth fighting their way to the front. “To be honest, I’m not the best with directions and stuff.”
“It’s not a problem,” he tells you, honestly, his voice partially going up. He gestures out to the path, asking if you are ready.
You surprise him by taking his arm again, curling your hand to his wrist. “Lead the way, Peter Pan.”
“Peter Pan?”
Renjun tilts his head again, not moving despite initiating the journey. He bites his lip again, and he would shrink into his narrow shoulders, but you keep him propped up. Then, you mimic him, subconsciously taking a step back when he makes eye contact.
“Um,” you stutter, swallowing the thousands of thoughts on the tip of your tongue, not knowing where to start, so you pick the middle: “Second star to the right, and all; you did say right … right?” You cringe a little at the syllable repetition, but it makes him throw his head back and laugh, so the warm tinge across your face subsides until completely disappearing when he leads the way. “So …” you say, a little too loudly, abruptly changing the topic.
“So?” he parrots, guiding you onto the inner sidewalk, closer to the buildings, farther from the street.
“So,” you repeat, equal in cadence, bobbing in tune as you drag out the conjunction, not looking at him in fear that your brain might bombard you with a thousand thoughts again – either this can lead to a wonderful friendship or blossom into something more … which makes you kind of nervous, if you were being honest, except you don’t want to be presumptuous. You just met the guy two minutes ago. “How, um, how long have you been going here?”
“Ah,” he responds, open mouthed. His free arm flies behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s my first semester. I’m a freshman.”
“Oh … but you seem to know, at least part of, the school really well.” You bite inside the corner of your cheek.
“Yeah, my parents moved me into the dorms last weekend, so I had a lot of time to, like, roam around and find out where my classes are going to be on Wednesday, but I’ve literally been looking all over half the campus for the financial aid office today.”
“Huh,” you mumble, a slow eureka. “Maybe, after this, if you’re able to wait, I can show you where the financial aid office is. It’s like right next to my dorm building on the other side of campus. I just have to check out a textbook for property law.”
Renjun beams at you now. “I’d like that a lot.” And he’d like to spend more time with you.
Haechan calls your full name – Funny, since you’ve only heard him referred to by his real name a handful of times, but now, with the alcoholic flush heating your face under the wintery night sky, you cannot, for the life of you, remember his government name. Renjun mentioned it to you once or twice, between ranting about something Haechan did, before he brought you into his friend group a couple weeks ago. He had been meaning to merge you with them, ever since Jeno got a small break from his military service for Chuseok weekend, but things piled up, no one actually free until the second half of autumn term. Jaemin barely got a break from his o chem lab reports; Haechan is taking a small breather between pre-trial motion write ups; Renjun left the library for the first time in, essentially, a week; Chaewon just finished her art project this morning and woke up literally fifteen minutes before arriving at the restaurant; you only finished creating flash cards for property law (those vocab words are going to get you one of these days); and the military doesn’t really let Jeno out on holiday, as it would defeat the purpose of compulsory military service (on the bright side, he won’t have to take a break from school or work like the others; although, Jaemin plans to use his [future] medical degree to his advantage).
You whip your hair around, the inches that have grown since summer almost hitting Jeno in the face, so you lean a bit more into Renjun, who has a slightly buff arm strewn along the back of your chair as you change conversations from one end of the table to the next, the two of you sitting in the middle like Jesus at The Last Supper – which might as well predict your relationship status, almost as if Renjun wants to test you, but you push the thought away. If he wanted to be something more, he would have done something by now; you have known him for, like, two months now, nearly approaching finals. You swear that you picked up on a few close calls, confiding in your roommate, a psych major Dahyun; except, she might be more excited to study your brain like a bug than really listen to the problem. But she did say that this – the two of you going out with his friends (Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, and Chaewon) could mean something.
And maybe it does.
When all five of you moved from the bar inside the restaurant to a longer table outside (Jeno kept complaining about the lack of leg room because people kept pushing against his chair on their ways to the bathroom; something no none, except maybe Jaemin related to, but eventually, everyone relented), Renjun walked through the door last, having led you, a hand on your mid-back, through the other patrons and busboys. He stopped you from accidentally catching the jacket around your arm on fire; you took it off because Jaemin started grilling one of the side dishes and the bottle of soju you started nursing with Renjun got to your face. It left some skin exposed, skin that he touched. You didn’t have time to analyze him really, a waiter dropping off a complimentary alcohol mix for the discomfort, not like now when Haechan gives you an excuse to check him out.
“Really,” Haechan begs, “why’d you stick to him?” He points a thumb at Renjun, and Renjun takes immediate offense but does nothing other than verbally object, his chest sighing weakly. Haechan flops his wrist, wanting your answer more than to argue – a rare event, considering that half the table is enrolled in the law programme.
“I don’t know,” you answer immediately, mostly as a filler word while you size him up. Over the semester, Renjun started training with Jeno and Jaemin (and Xiaojun from the poli sci department), gradually replacing his daily water intake with whey protein powder. His body has gotten … bigger, noticeably bigger; his shoulders filling out the grey, cashmere sweater, muscles faintly contouring down in bulges to the thin watch on his left wrist. You eventually reach his face again, briefly pausing at his clear jawline, and he raises an eyebrow before knocking back another shot, daring you to say the thought so clearly reflected in your eyes. “I mean,” you start, shifting back to Haechan, who starts pouring your fourth round, as if seducing you into saying something provocative, “he was nice; he is nice. He picked me off the ground, literally, and –“ You throw back the shot. “– you know, we had – have a lot in common: similar taste in movies, same major, he even sang a line from this one OST I used to hear whenever my grandmother watched dramas.”
Haechan, hums, dispensing yours and Renjun’s fifth round and a fourth to everyone else.
“What about you?” Jeno garbles to Renjun, slowly laying his head on the table, Jaemin rubbing his back. “If I were – were you –” He hiccups and points at you. “– I would’ve left as soon as I even heard him laughing at me.”
“I guess I’m just nicer than you,” Renjun laughs, sitting slightly more forward. “Remember when we first met. I thought you were cold as ice.
Jeno pouts.
“And now,” Renjun clarifies, pushing the shots further down the table and grabbing a napkin. His free arm slides down your back for the second time tonight, heat radiating off his hand to your hip; his fingers twitch in the air, inches from your skin, and your breath stops in your chest. You shift a little closer to his belt, rocking left and right until you meet him, and he helps you, too, hand rising above your high-waisted skirt, pulling you closer. Then, he leaves his arm dangling there, elbow caught in the chair’s spine, fingers caging your hip. “Now, we’re best friends.”
You admire Renjun’s side profile as he talks behind your back with Jeno, reclining on the bench, you perched over the table to give him enough space. He smirks at something in the middle of the conversation, head nodding off center, falling even more into your body and continuing to stay there after, sans objection. All eyes eventually lead to Jaemin, when he starts pouring the sixth round, except yours. Yeah, you instinctively moved with the crowd, but Renjun’s lips caught your gaze, licking his mouth open wider for another laugh, shoulders following suit. Halfway through another weak objection (he is already pushing his shot glass to the end of the table before his sentence finishes), Renjun glances your way, lingering back and forth between you and Jaemin, who tends to overpour after two shots, until he stops, staying on your face. He reaches out the same hand that gave a glass to Jaemin, grabbing yours too, then mouths come here, finger curling close enough to make your skin tingle. Still, you comply, and he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, matting down all the baby hairs floating away from how hot your face burns, knowing that, as a side effect of the law major, appearance is everything. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pretty.
“Oh, leave them alone,” Chaewon complains between drinks, groaning through her fifth and sixth shots. “I think they’re cute.” She wipes her mouth with her sleeve, and you are tempted to do the same, except to Renjun, a little like returning the favor, even though he wiped the pretzel crumbs from the corner of his mouth already. “Besides, their meet-cute is better than spilling that disgusting demon coffee on a stranger at eight o’clock in the morning.” She narrows her eye sat Haechan.
“That was for him!” He points at Jaemin, nearly banging on the table, much to Jeno’s annoyance. “And it will be the last time I ever buy coffee for you!”
“How are you going to repay me for the kimbap I bring you after literature on Thursdays?!”
“You get it from the dining hall!”
“Yeah, on my meal plan!”
“Please, okay! It’s literally ₩3,000!”
“Should we get kimbap?” you hum, leaning into Renjun’s hand, further from the three-person argument.
He trails his fingers under your chin, tickling you until he laughs when you slap him away; he drops his hand on his jeans, rubbing his thigh wider into his seat. You tilt your head to the door into the restaurant, eyes fluttering at your suggestion, pouting. Renjun copies, lips tightened into a contemplative melody. He sighs, stomach growling in agreement. The last time either of you ate was after your 10AMs, barely catching a quick snack from the café in the biochem building, because you had been promised the alleged best samgyeopsal marinated in red wine.
“If our food doesn’t arrive in –“ Renjun pushes his long sleeve far up his forearm, shaking his watch into view. Your tongue salivates. “– 10 minutes, I’ll buy you dinner at Gen.”
It comes by in four.
[Renjun, 3:23 PM]
Renjun time!
[Renjun, 3:23 PM]
Study session at mine tonight?
[You, 3:24 PM]
Yeah, I’m going to finish scanning this civics passage in the library, then head to Starbucks for coffee, but I should be free the rest of the day. Civil procedure got cancelled. Want anything?
[Renjun, 3:25 PM]
Grande mango black tea, light ice, please and thank you. Do you need help studying? Prof Choi will probably give a pop quiz in your next meeting.
[Renjun, 3:26 PM]
Oh, and a double bacon if there are any left. I have constitutional law in 5 btw.
[Renjun, 3:27 PM]
I’ll buy you dinner at Gen on Monday.
[You, 3:27 PM]
Please.
[You, 3:28 PM]
You keep saying that, but we have yet to actually go.
[You, 3:30 PM]
Sit in the back. I’ll sneak in.
Sneaking into Professor Moon’s constitutional law class, which has over a hundred students, is as easy as slipping into a routine with Renjun, if not easier, even after summer break. And this year, you actually have a class with him (!), not constitutional law, obviously, because you took it last year, but legal writing. Ironically, your classes overlap with his – e.g. you took constitutional law spring term, he takes it now; he took civic practices winter term, you take it now. Basic classes, the ones that only go over the law, not how to interpret it, don’t really function like maths classes; they don’t build off each other, just accumulate knowledge, so you and Renjun (and Haechan and Chaewon) will spend the first two years learning the general idea, figure out what specialty you eventually want to pursue, then argue during the last three – which means that, in the long run, you essentially invest in having more time with Renjun … not that he isn’t already attached to your hip. Plus, you can cheat off each other’s notes.
Ice shaking alerts Renjun to your presence before a syllable from your greeting can reach his ear. You slowly drag the chair beside him on the carpet, no loud sounds alerting the professor to your existence (thank God), and set everything down next to him.
“Thanks,” he whispers, sipping the iced tea like every other student in the room does with coffee.
You lean over his arm, simultaneously giving him the sandwich and stealing a pale-yellow highlighter. “No problem.”
Renjun trails your hand, watching you set up to study civic practices on your iPad, completely missing his professor’s plan for today’s class. His smile twitches on the corners of his cheeks. He remembers doing that last year: studying activists who used pamphlets to declare independence from some distant sovereign, and admiring your side profile. The way you ignore him, too focused on Common Sense, let him stare a bit longer, without you making a face to stop him. Some rose-pink color outlines your lips today, a few patches missing in the middle. He asked you, this morning, while catching an early morning bibimbap, why you actually dressed up for civic practices, because no one took Prof Kwon’s dress code seriously. You said something about wanting to get an internship with him for your practicum in two years, and he wasn’t aware that you had started planning that far ahead.
“Pay attention to this next part. It will be an essay question on the next exam.”
Renjun glances at the projector. Justiciability. He has no idea what it means (well, he has some; he vaguely recognizes the abstract concept), so he starts paying attention. But throughout the lecture, he slips his elbow onto the table, resting his cheek over his hand, preoccupied by your distracting pen taps, as Professor Moon sets up clicker questions after each section. He tries to stay focused, adding any random thought to the corner of his OneNote … until he ends up doodling your name; it began as writing something you mentioned in passing last year and didn’t stop … you look so cute right now … if you use all my yellow highlighter, we’re going to the pen shop later … you, you, you. He erases all the evidence though, seconds after he makes it, not wanting to incriminate himself, even outside the law, before he becomes a lawyer.
After the lecture wraps up, you and Renjun walk to the library, partway through campus, iced drinks in hand, catching up on your lives despite having seen each other every day. Surprisingly, you always have a new thing to say, new opinion about whatever you saw, and Renjun always has a rebuttal.
“Oh!” You pull off your straw once he finishes recounting his point of view on Moon’s theoretical federal case. Renjun flutters his eyes up, ducking down to slurp the last of his tea. “Did you hear? Jeno is starting the architecture programme spring term after he discharges.”
“Yeah,” Renjun hums, breaking off his empty drink. Jeno called him about it last night. “I think Haechan is going to see if the housing department will let them room together since there’s an empty bed in his suite.” You nod slowly, contemplative, and Renjun opens his mouth again, to ask you the question he has been pondering since Jeno even brought up living on campus.
Speaking of the devil (well, one of them), Haechan accidentally happens on the two of you, rounding a corner from the psych department. He launches his arms around your shoulders, swinging his legs between you and Renjun, making you both dip down and yelp.
“God, I share more classes with Renjun than you, yet I don’t see him nearly as much.” Haechan lands in front of you, bouncing backwards a few steps to balance himself.
Renjun verbally objects; he saw Haechan yesterday for dinner, so this makes the fifth day in a row, plus they have a grocery store date tomorrow morning; he ran out of satay hotpot soup base after you helped him complete his first draft for legal writing. He flitters a grateful eye when you massage his shoulder. You squeeze his bicep three times, returning the blood flow to his face, and he mumbles a small thank you, with an even smaller smile, before glaring at the intruder.
“It’s almost like you live together,” Haechan shrugs, tucking in his elbows and wriggling between you two.
You giggle when Renjun sighs, his shoulders dropping as his chin tilts to the sky.
“I mean, I was considering it.”
“You were what!?”
Renjun raises an eyebrow, walking slightly ahead of Haechan to see you, and you return it, frowning deeply.
“You never told me that,” you grumble, falling behind Haechan, who copies the both of you, frowning like he did something wrong.
“I mean,” Renjun starts, “Yeah, of course, I’ve thought about it. We’re practically together all the time, like he –“ Renjun points a thumb at Haechan, pausing to glare, then softens back at you. “– mentioned. You have enough stuff in my dorm to live there for a month, anyways, and we’ve had sleepovers before, so –“ He shrugs. “– why not?”
Renjun may not have started planning his fourth-year practicum like you, but he has been thinking about the future, about asking you to move into an apartment with him before the school year ends.
It takes just slightly over two weeks (16 days) to finalize a pros and cons list for living with Renjun. You don’t say a word to anyone about, nearly neglecting your actual studies and opinion papers to really determine if you could do it. Halfway through the pros column, you considered asking your current roommate, a psych major named Dahyun, for help – to see whether you ignore the red flags, or to diagnose with the first thing that snaps you out of this boy craze, but you shook your head and continued writing. So far, the list has more pros than cons, as you expected; Renjun is basically perfect – decent cook (or take-out order…er); clean, physically and environmentally; quiet when important; cooperative; gets along with you; etc. The only con is … is … well, you get along with him too well, so you keep the list to yourself, not wanting that information, specifically, to be leaked. You even cross out the one con with a sharpie and expo marker, ripping it into the shredder before anyone could interpret it.
But Chaewon inevitably heads to your dorm for an extra shirt when Haechan spills yet another demon coffee on her (before 8 AM this time).
She walks out of your private bathroom, wearing an oversized sweater, dabbing a Tide pen into her pale pink shirt, trying to revive it before criminal law.
“Oh, I hate them,” she enunciates about Haechan and Jaemin for the fifth time this week alone (and it’s Thursday). She puts the pen back in your desk draw and blows on the wet patch, trying to get it ready for class, but you saw the black water stain her shirt irrevocably, even from the closet, where you pull out a blazer to go over the plain white pyjama shirt you stole from Renjun. “Oh? What’s this?”
“What’s what?” you ask while sliding your arms through the sleeves. You yank your hair from the back, fluffing it before walking up to her, tiptoeing above her shoulder as she pulls a colorful, small spiral notebook from your drawer.
“Reasons to live with Renjun,” she reads.
Your eyes widen, and you snatch it from her, holding it close to your chest.
“Reasons not to live with Renjun?” She reads the back.
You push her out of the way and shove it back in your drawer, slamming it shut rather loudly.
“You’re going to … move in … with him?” she asks slowly, lowering her head gradually, her voice unusually soft.
You hug your arms around your waist, hands gripping the waistband on your trousers, and study her expression, your own eyebrows furrowing deeply. She brings her hands together, thumbnail clawing at the cuticles on her opposite fingers.
“Yes,” you nod, equally quiet and long. You stand up straighter, tucking your hair behind both ears a few times before opening your desk drawer to organize it; no use in hiding the list now that Chaewon knows and wants to address it. “I was just thinking about it.”
“Are you … Are you sure it’s a good idea?” She puts a hand on your upper arm, and your muscles tighten, everything temporarily paused until the single highlighter you hold starts shaking; you start shaking. Once you inhale twice more, no air expelling until your lungs finally reach max capacity, you turn towards Chaewon. Her hand drops into yours, squeezing it gently. You want to assuage her misplaced guilt, possibly about finding your notebook and involuntarily demanding to know the reason you might move in with Renjun – because the roommate agreement has yet to be written into stone.
But you shrug, rattling her off of you. “Yeah, we’re practically together all the time, and we have stuff at each other’s places.” You pause, recoiling, physically cringing at reusing Renjun’s reasoning.
“What are you going to do when he goes on a date?”
You frown. “Renjun doesn’t date.”
Chaewon raises an eyebrow, her palms weakly slapping her thighs, the sound resonating too loudly in the silence. Your ears ring, like the aftermath of a bomb, and you go back to studying her face, maybe also too long. You tilt your head to the side, something in your chest piling on an extra ton that leans your body to the left.
“I mean, I’ve never seen him go on a date, and I’ve known him for more than two years now.”
Chaewon bites her lip and moves her hands behind her back.
Your shoulders hunch forward. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, mostly to the floor. “I thought you knew.”
“No,” you reject, a little forcefully, and she winces. “No, it’s …” you repeat gentler, matching her expression, “It’s my fault for assuming.” You throw your hands low in the air, hands slapping against your thighs, but not as strong since her implications weigh your body down. “Of course, he dates. I just … I just thought …”
Chaewon reaches an arm out again, grabbing your forearm first for your attention, then your hand, squeezing it again, in the same capacity, although now you know what she knows. She evidently knew what you thought, but her breath had to spell out what she knew. You try slinking into yourself, elbows tucking backwards, until she hugs you, accidentally tripping over her feet. It doesn’t make you laugh.
“I just … thought he was too busy, you know,” you lie, obviously too, by the way your nose starts to itch, “like me,” you whisper, finally accepting her embrace, adding your arms around her waist and your chin into her shoulder.
Chaewon pats your hair. “I know.”
But does he?
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I told you already that I didn’t have the time to study with you today. I’m still behind on my second draft for legal writing, and I can’t afford to drop below in the rankings again.”
“Then why did you even come!?”
You purse your lips. Renjun should know, at this point, why you hang out in his single person dorm, oscillating between listening to his overactive imagination about the different animal combinations his brain dreams up and walking to the convenience store near the physics building 160 meters away. He should know why you help each other with the classes you’ve already taken, help him compete against Seungmin in his constitutional law, help him technically get a better grade than you ever did (despite academic standing relying on your literal standing in class among more than 50 people). Regardless, he still looks at you as if meeting you for the first time; or, not meeting you because, when he actually did, he had a smile on his face and laughter on his shoulders; now, he just gives you an uncharacteristic head shake, questions spilling from his tight lips. You grip the page of your notebook that you had been writing on, it standing partway up, then turn it; you accidentally use too much strength and rip the perforations, which makes a hot, deep sigh leave your diaphragm.
It has been almost three weeks (three weeks and two days), since you told Renjun that you cannot move in with him. You initially avoided him, like the plague, lying that you cannot be on top of everything. Well, partially lying. Your classes got harder – more pop quizzes, more mini-essays and discussion posts, more commitment; how he manages to retain information so easily, you will be forever jealous, but it also means that you have to sacrifice your 10 PM philosophical talks to get work done. You l… you lo… You enjoy his company, you really do, but being with him takes an extra 0.5x the effort, slowing down your typed average words per minute until you just stop writing, because he needs you to explain a concept. And you don’t mean to nag; it goes vice versa – it takes him an extra 90 minutes to complete his flashcards when you ask about Enlightenment ideas or to translate his annotations to something you understand. You just … don’t know how to accommodate for his follow up questions, for actually being with him, for all your lies falling through, and it makes your heart drop; if you can’t even improvise with Renjun, how will you be a lawyer?
By telling the truth?
You sigh. “Renjun …” He looks at you expectantly, on the tips of his toes, despite sitting half a table away, on the opposite side of his desk, creating the distance you only speak. “I …” you start, heart never having recovered from that meeting with Chaewon, “I’ve just been busy with school.” His entire chest deflates. “You have too,” you reinforce – partially because it’s true, and a half-truth is better than a lie; it is an omission of the whole picture, which is something arguable in court.
And something he regurgitates to you the next weekend.
You follow up the same thing the next day.
Another month passes, the end of fall term, and saw Renjun maybe three times, at least one of them being in class when he sat next to you, backpack sliding between his legs like a kicked puppy, his eyes, also, somehow mimicking a baby. You nearly cave, turn to him with an open mouth, but he packs his bag and leaves before the professor announces the assignment. It is written in the syllabus anyways.
Spring term comes faster than winter term ends, and you have literally no idea what happened.
Everything stays the same: the grass still retains dew outside the agriculture building; the biochem café still wakes up at dawn; hell, even Haechan manages to spill coffee on Chaewon again, not that you see them so often anymore. She stopped spontaneously dropping by your dorm (you live off campus now, still with Dahyun though), choosing her side like the other three – two if you count Jeno not being informed until three weeks into winter term. But you and Renjun no longer bear the conjoined rumors, whispers about your breakup swirling among the nosy grad students who assign your group projects. And the further you delve into the five-year law program, the smaller the class sizes get, meaning that you eventually circle back to Renjun’s side, just adding the distance he created in his dorm two terms ago. Again, everything stays the same.
Dahyun, your psych major roommate, argued that the competitive school system sets you up to hate each other, and you fell into its scheme (you asked what her major’s scheme was, and she said depression; you refrained from asking anymore questions), inevitably hating Renjun. However, her social psych class did not account for all the sparing matches, during Socratic debates, during the extraneous study sessions set up by the TA Qian Kun, during … every student event really. It never ends because neither of you allow each other to have the last word, to give a final argument, as if holding an arsenal back, waiting to drop the atomic bomb at the perfect moment. It feels like holding the weight of the world, weight of a secret, on your shoulders, and you confessed this, drunk, to Dahyun every night through the end of the year. She tried to offer you more advice, more perspective, adding a shrug here or there to lessen the hostility while still telling you the truth, but you continued to dive further into defensive mode, even when she pointed out that it could be your professors’ faults, posing public rankings rather than private grades, forcing you and Renjun into survival mode to come out on top, if not top three (Seungmin, too, eventually revealed himself as your uncovered nemesis).
All those study dates spent getting to know each other for naught, escalating into passive aggressive battles through your individual essays. If the TAs put your assignment next to Renjun’s, it would read “re:fuck this guy” back and forth despite arguing the same position, just using different reasons. Then, wars break out in the form of debates, the both of you misplacing your anger onto each other (from the rankings, and innocent bystander Seungmin who really wants to work for the international diplomacy office). He would lose his spot at number one in torts, a class you took freshman year; you often did minor corrections, like spelling for him; and you would receive your research papers drowned in red ink, distorting your muddled point without Renjun to move around the sentences for cohesion; he is … was the only one who followed your rapid thought process, almost on the exact same wavelength. Eventually, you two grew better without each other, forcing yourselves to use the student resources like the writing center or your actual professors, and you were happy, elated, that he improved on legal literacy, as he was happy, elated, that you understood social policy on your own, but fuck, it hurt like hell to see each other’s names drop, losing first place when you tried so hard to make it work, even more when one of your friends’s stupidly endearing smile attempted to console you, saying that “rankings do not matter”, even though they clearly do.
Oh, you two saw each other as frequently as freshman year, nothing changing drastically except what kind of feelings you had for each other, occasionally bumping into one another on the street – you caught Renjun slipping on a puddle once and helped him up after laughing at him, only to receive a glare; he also caught you tripping up the stairs in the language department, dropping your tea a flight below. Everything stayed the same, and it felt the same, in those briefest moments, but no longer did the flirting mask the tutoring; no longer did the glances feel heart-stricken, just rallying frustration back and forth, when you think the other isn’t looking, like a trick shot; no longer can you “accidentally” bump elbows in his dorm to look at a textbook that you rented together to save on money.
Unfortunately, you find yourself in Renjun’s legal ethics class winter term of your third year, and truthfully, it functions more like a psychotherapy group meeting than anything else. You swear, every class, that your old professor can read your mind, can see your tiny glimpses at Renjun from the back of the lecture hall, and purposefully relates each module to your lives.
“You cannot equate legal ethics with business ethics!” Renjun argues, voice echoing off the amphitheater, surround-sound encasing all 19 people to accommodate for the 150-max capacity. “Business ethics are not always a matter of law,” he furthers, seeing your ears burn steam, all openness flying out the window. He does not miss the irony, something about the passion for you manifesting in different forms, maybe, if he let himself sit with the thought for long, but he distracts himself with the lecture, using all of his brain, and half of his fragile glass heart, to make a plausible argument that you cannot refute easily. “Yes,” he seethes, “legal ethics might determine what is acceptable, like a morality blueprint, but business ethics do not always have to adhere to the law!”
“Pertain,” you hastily correct, nearly spitting across the fishbowl setting that your professor had everyone arrange from the desks. You almost stand up, to nitpick at his argument, at his choice of words, but restrain yourself; you have some decorum. “Business ethics always have to adhere to the law.” Your voice hitches for a moment, an insult (dummy, idiot, clotpole) scratching its heels on your lips before it can fully pass into audio.
Renjun, though, unfortunately, sees the taunting term of endearment (of irritation). His smirk begs you say it, his tongue licking the seam of his lips open to prod you more, but Socratic seminars have a direct impact on his grade and ranking. He cannot afford to be thrown out of class again for getting too heated in debate.
“If we cannot equate business ethics and law ethics, then do out laws not reflect morality, the moral compass? Do our laws lack in some sense that alleviates business workers from punishment, puts them above the law?” you further, chest rising instead of your legs, asking him impossibly ambiguous questions to which you know that he does not have the answer. He could ask the theoretical judge (your professor) for an objection, but there is no witness testimony, so he would remain invalid unless he can bring a valid philosophical response. “Business ethics have arbitrary rules that would otherwise not hold in a court of law, so how can we determine the validity of their rules?”
You nearly forget about everyone else in the class, spotlight effect enhancing only Renjun Huang; you swear that you see the cogs turning, at rapid pace, behind his exposed forehead, as you pile question after question, trying to undermine and tear apart his dispute on the basis of morals and ethics, as is the name of your fucking class.
His clench fists tell you exactly where you can shove those intangible questions, also succumbing into tunnel vision with only you at the end, as if you were the sole answer to your own insufferable questions, to the universe, to this god-awful class section that you decided to sign up for, simultaneously with him. According to Haechan, there has to be at least two other sections, although it would coincide with the comparative law class you also share with him and his technology and science law class. He and you are not the only ones in this programme, in this class, despite the numerous times neither of you have focused on anyone else; other than Seungmin, who has ethics Tuesday, Thursday, Friday at 11 AM. Perhaps Renjun should have skipped the breather altogether, he thinks, then, you would still be talking to him … well, talking at him, given your disposition … not that he minds … he does somewhat agree with you, simply following the polar opposite because you do too.
Once Professor Jeong dismisses the lecture (after Renjun’s closing argument; you gave the opening argument), determining that both sides presented “enough” evidence for final ments, everyone begins cleaning up, putting the classroom back to the way it started. Only a few of you stay, out of the already few, including Renjun.
You turn to the front of the classroom, pushing the desks into a neat line. Seeing him, even after he essentially became your moral enemy, brings something forward, in you. The best or worst, you honestly cannot determine. Your grades, debates, fleeting relationships. All paled in comparison to what you had with Renjun, your nostalgia glasses tinted rose-gold. You cringe, physically, lips holding back vomit; you hope that your external shudder, too, only reflects the classroom’s 30-degree weather, not your melodramatic young adult life … or its absence. Maybe you have enough relationship experience, or maybe you need to get out more; maybe you need to think about what you actually had with Renjun, because – you look at him now, his thumbs typing fast enough on his phone to get carpal tunnel syndrome – this certainly did not end up being one.
Oppositely, Renjun, himself, cannot place the exact moment your relationship went downhill. Of course, he knows about you being overworked sophomore year and about the quote-unquote natural competition brought upon by the five-year law program, but he never really thought it would be enough to rip you two apart. Sometimes, he even catches himself reminiscing about your rom-com-esque meet-cute during the warm autumn day after new student orientations – the day shined brightly, as he used to correct you, and his heart thumped so loud in his brain that he didn’t register his own laughter until you mentioned it. He ruminates on the moments with you – fixing your hair as an excuse to look into your eyes before you drop eye contact; reviewing concepts he already knows just to hear you talk, uninterrupted; only touching elbows in the library, to verify that the other stays, because students took the longer desks, forcing him to chose the singles with immovable dividers. He ruminates, not because he wants to, but because it plagues him; it makes him overanalyze all your interactions thereafter. And maybe he did overcompensate for his misplaced frustrations … even though some miniscule part of you irritated him, burned this flame inside his chest, like heartburn.
He can make a list too:
He hates the way you talk, so short and easily annoyed with him;
He hates the way you walk into class, wearing those tennis shoes, like you try to mute your steps, even though people will stare at you coming in 1, 3, or 5 minutes late;
He hates the way you spar with him during Socratic seminars, treating the classroom exercise like an actual courtroom or debate, leaving him hot and breathless, feeling as if no one else can match his wit, even though half the class probably shares the same IQ;
He hates the way you are always right, especially in class when he gets the most minute fact wrong and you dismantle his entire case;
He hates it when you lie, when you claim to love the cold so you grab the seat under the vent during every class study session with the TA, so no one else gets sick;
He hates the way you breathe through your mouth when your nose ultimately gets stuffy after the library turns on the aircon;
He hates it so, so much when you stay later than everyone else, and he sees the way you shiver, too stubborn to move seats, to move closer to him.
He hates the way you make him want to wrap you in his obviously warmer jacket, make him hyperfocus on nursing you back to health instead of the lesson at hand.
He hates the way you never look at him, even after all the others have left, and he mumbles the occasional bless you or are you okay?, which scarcely get a response.
Renjun hates the way he has to steal glances at you or ask you for the source material to get you to look his way. And he hates that he currently does it, waiting, like a coward, for even the TA to leave the room last.
“Do you have a copy of Article 6?”
You bury your nose further into the library’s copy of the Constitution. “Yeah, I just read it.” He hates the way he sees something stop in your throat, masked by a cough; you almost said more to him. Silently, you pass him the book. “Here. You can –“ Cough. “– You can have it.” You bring your hand to your mouth, covered by your sleeve, coughs bubbling into it.
He hates the sympathetic look in his eyes, that he can feel, that he can see in the glass reflection, that you do not acknowledge. Renjun hates the way he purposefully brushes his hands against yours despite you having sneezed on it earlier. He threw a disgusted bless you at you, almost standing from his comfortable position to give you a tissue. But you would never accept it, on the basis of mortal enemies.
“Thank you.”
He hates the way you say nothing back, the way you ignore him again. He hates the way that, at this point, he has to wonder if he really does hate you, hate the idea of you, or hate himself for letting your relationship, now lack thereof, get to this.
And so do you.
Another week passes until your TA schedules another study session; this time before the midterm, one that you need to attend because the vocabulary continuously becomes too complicated to understand. Like, academia is already an unnecessarily convoluted foreign language, and you do not want to hear how it is pronounced, especially when it comes from Renjun’s stupidly pretty voice that always has a perfect cadence. Even now, as he answers the TA’s pointless pop quiz, you are compelled to listen, somehow retaining the information better when he says it, too consumed by his tone … that you miss half the class exiting, until you are left alone with him again, and the reserve textbook that the TA checked out for an extra two hours after the session, knowing exactly which two students would probably study near each other before getting kicked out (again) at midnight.
The click of an AirPod case opening snaps your attention, forcing you toward the tangible Renjun five seats away, furthest from the room’s only exit, other than the window you contemplate jumping from.
“What are you looking at?” Renjun snips, micro-jutting his chin toward you like a meaningless threat. He would never spar you … in a library, that is – he really does not enjoy getting kicked out of places. But he goes back to tuning out the world when you fail to respond, so you do the same, with your favorite band’s newest album.
Unfortunately, for Renjun, this meant enduring your off-key, sporadic humming, broken by cracks in your voice as if it were hoarse, vaguely resembling instrumental, much less the actual lyrics. He lets you get a bit louder, equally turning up his volume, until your humming elongates into one dissonant note, and he pulls out your earbud, pausing your music, your singing, and your studying. You un-click your pen, the corner of your eye flittering toward him, sparkling a glare because the angle will not allow you to narrow your eyes at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” he mocks, placing the AirPod on the table by your phone. Renjun returns to his seat just as easily and silent, the sound of his chair scraping the carpet replacing both your playlists. He is halfway through pulling his seat closer to the table when he continues, seeing you oscillate between him and your phone (not even the textbook; wow). “I meant it.” He glares. “If you’re just going to daydream, you can leave. I’ll even encourage you; you can be hung up on that Timothée Chalamet wannabe.”
You roll your eyes and scoff, head turning away. “I’m not hung up on him.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he mutters back, popping open an orange midliner. He doesn’t use yellow anymore. Variations of the color, yes, from orange to orange-yellow, then yellow-green to green. His favorite color is still yellow; perhaps why he holds it in such high esteem, like dedicating little emojis across his Instagram captions to it or detailing small embellishments around his apartment, but not something he carefully looks at every day, like his notebooks.
Equally petty and bitter, you say something under your breath, trying to be unintelligible. Renjun, though, knows about your mother’s speak clearlys, and it comes out crystal: “Sounds like you’re hung up on him more than I am.” And neither of you understand why – why he would think you are hung up on some asshole in your philosophy class who probably thinks Thanos was a genius; why this is a conversation topic; why he even cares.
“I’m not the one who went on a date with him,” Renjun almost bites, in the form of a growl. He remembers almost literally running into your classmate just outside the boba place off-campus behind the math department, like you did with the cement pillar a couple years ago. You also walked out the door, in the same manner he did to go inside the shop (or, really, stop outside it), distracted by complimenting the matcha blend; you also shrugged him off and sauntered the path with Chalamet.
But what does Huang Renjun even know about your taste in men?
A lot, actually, considering that encompasses so much, if not everything, that you want from a significant other: passionate, honorable, empathetic. You would rather die (or shut him up) before you said anything like that to him. Except … you already did. Freshman year, prior to meeting his friends, when you both were still in that weird getting to know each other phase, not the talking stage just yet, you had been in his dorm, sitting on a bean bag he stole from the floor lobby, and he asked you, out of the blue (because he was finishing up a social psych paper), about the things that make someone attractive romantically. You told him the basics – funny, verbally appreciative, trustworthy, etc., then he watched your eyes sparkle outside his window and your hands wrap around your knees, gently rocking as you described the really specific details. He wondered, at that time, whether he could be all that, your fantasized ideal type.
“I don’t know where you get your information, Huang, but Xiaojun and I aren’t dating, nor did we ever go on a date. I don’t know which event you’re probably misconstruing in your mind, but you’re wrong, and I don’t –“
“Sounds like you don’t know a lot,” he interrupts, starting a new argument, running away from the last topic he started. “Maybe you should actually focus on getting back into the top three in this class, or do you want Seungmin to keep taking out spots?”
You purse your lips. “Bold words for someone who can barely spell.”
“Yeah?” Renjun perks his head, shaking it just the one time. “What’s your excuse?” His question is met with silence, and since your eyes downcast again, brows furrowed with harsh lines in the middle, you fail to notice him return to work. “Thought so,” he mutters, in the tone your mother would disapprove.
You wish it was different.
Ethics would be so much easier, just to comprehend, with his help – bouncing ideas and theories off each other, cowriting drafts and outlines, simultaneously shouting eureka after everything comes together. Except, you wish this was also different – the irritation, the discomfort, the … the resentment. You both know why you resent each other, though only internally; he doesn’t know why you resent him, nor vice versa, and it bubbles into these micro-arguments, passive aggressiveness; the both of you too awkward, maybe even timid, to reconcile without your hearts on the line.
Another sigh leaves your lips, hidden under your breath, and no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, Renjun’s ears attune to it, to your every move. He puts his midliner down, contemplating the benefits of talking to you again like … like a friend; he even opens his mouth to say something, anything, but really, what is there to say? What can he say? One of you will have to be more vulnerable, praying on the other’s empathetic, or sympathetic, side. You did it last, telling him that you couldn’t move in with him, something of a sad expression on your face that he made him immediately go to your defence. He tells himself that he forgave you as soon as your lips moved, but you were not so sure … And neither was he.
“H … he … hey,” he calls out slowly, voice growing audibly to coherency as his confidence settles on vulnerability, a harsh 180 from his previous spite. “Hey,” he repeats, even louder. You finally turn to him, lowering your music just enough to hear him but not taking it away completely, in case he just wants to insult you again. He doesn’t. And he hopes his face shows that.
You scrutinize him, staring down from his eyes to his lips, pausing there, maybe hesitating, before trailing up again. “What?”
“Do you understand the implied contract prompt?”
“Mm … hmm …”
Renjun exhales through his nose, slowly rolling his eyes, trying to expel the budding frustration with each rotation. “Can … Will you go over it with me?” He knows that he has to ask a yes-no question, to ask for help in a format that will not have you nitpicking each word to dismantle his entire request like an argumentative statement. And he does not start it with an apology, like he should. He rarely reveals his emotions so easily without a special occasion, though his every feeling writes itself across his face, chokes his throat.
Not that you indicate any consideration – which is probably his fault. Who could even give a warm response to his resting bitch face, or that scolding tone? Who would even want to?
“I can,” you overenunciate, possibly pondering the implications of his question, taking an eternity to say the simple words. You lower your head, again, to your notebook; pen scratching the air above the half-filled page, twitching. He dips his eye to your smallest movements, but when he catches nothing, he returns to your face, still contemplative. You partially inhale, keeping your breath at the base of your esophagus until you make your decision. He waits and waits, falling onto his toes with each millisecond. You lick your lips and exhale, shakily; you take another moment, giving him a bit of hope that you change your mind at last second in his favor. And you do: “… Ye-yeah, I think I will.” You point a finger at him. “As long as you confine your arguments to the texts.”
“Thanks,” Renjun sighs. He breathes again, hand sliding down his chest. “Maybe we can bounce ideas off each other too.”
The corners of your lips twitch upward. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
You and Renjun spend another two hours in the library until a student worker’s voice echoes through the speakers, essentially kicking you both out. You helped each other pack your belongings, then walked down to the first floor together, in silence. He told you that he had to return a book at the front desk, and, despite your better judgements, you waited for him.
“So …” you say outside the library, grabbing both straps of your backpack. You stop first, in front of him, and he skids down, mirroring your posture on his tote bag.
“So …” he copies.
What does this mean? What happens now? What are we? Do we just go back to … You cannot call it ‘normal’, because what is normal? Even before everything, he blurred the line between friends and l… and more, which gave you a false hope that was shattered by Chaewon in just one minute, not that you speak to her so often anymore. You two get together occasionally, every 1-2 months subject to projects and midterms, working on different subspecialty electives – honestly, that itself is nice, not being forced to compete for the same internships, the same classes, the same fields. The same cannot be said with Renjun. Although, he gets it. Despite the way you two collaborate on similar theses, whether you agree or disagree with the hypothetical plaintiff, he validates your stances and vice versa, bringing up evidence to really strengthen each other’s arguments. He just … You just … debate whose evidence is better, which opening statement would be received by the judge (your professors) more positively.
A hundred questions linger on the tip of your tongue, nearly begging you to cross-examine him on the spot without preparation. Maybe lawyers are like this, kind of intense in all areas of their lives, needing the black and white extremes because they deal with the grey areas for days, if not weeks or months. Though, you still have yet to pass the bar exam. You and Renjun, who drops his arms to his sides like the iPhone emoji, his lips sucked inside his mouth.
“I …” You inhale, pursing your lips. “I …” You inhale again and bite your lip to keep the vacuum sealed. “I …” You start again and again, inhaling once more at the start of each sentence, reconsidering where to take this momentum. And Renjun follows your words, heels coming off the ground, leaning into you until he trips. “So …” you settle lamely, eyes drifting away from him, to one of the flickering lampposts in the midnight sky.
Renjun releases his lips into a tiny upward curve, sliding his feet individually into your personal bubble. “We can study at my apartment,” he suggests, “if you want.” And you bite your lip, pushing it out via tongue in the same second. Maybe he feels the same way, doesn’t want this good thing to end. These moments have happened before, after the massive fight move-in dispute, like when he offers you a pen or charger in class, seeing yours dead, or when he shows you that he listens, classroom or not, just like now, reading your body language, probably, and changing the trajectory of the night.
“… Can we?” you ask in a small voice. “I … I still have trouble with philanthropic and ethical responsibilities, and …” You drill your ankle into the ground. “And I think you know Carroll’s corporate social responsibility pyramid better than I do.”
“Right.”
You pick your head up, and he ducks his down.
“I … just … I mean,” he stutters, “If … If you think about it, we have different strengths, so we can … we should rely on each other a bit.” He inhales again, so you study his readable face, looking for all the signs that lead you to his fragile heart. His hands clasp in front of his chest, palms too sticky and perspiring to make the familiar rubbing sound. You try to find his eye, find his gaze, but he finds yours first, boring his widening pupils into you, making you take a small step back, slightly noticeable, given the way his fingers twitch forward, ghosting the outline of your palm. “An … And I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “For the last year.”
You brush your hair back through the middle. “It’s fine,” you breathe, pressing your palm into your stomach. “I mean, it’s … it’s not fine, because, you know … I … I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. Renjun clears his throat and looks over your head at the empty quad, lampposts dimmer than the second star on the right. “So, um, my place then?”
You bite your bottom lip again, trying not to show how wide your smile can get, because although this doesn’t cure the past 12 or 14 months of verbal rallying at every glance, it is a start. He still agrees with you on the important things, on the morals and values; he still, like, keeps the corner of his eye on you, in public, in private, in the classroom, everywhere; he still spends time with you, stays in your proximity, your eyeline, your conversation. And you know that the separation is your fault. Renjun talks about communication all the time, as the basis for any relationship, yet you couldn’t give him that. But maybe you can now.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
The next day saw another study session in his apartment again, like every rom com movie’s college students – sitting on the floor, a takeout box housing rice in your hands while he balanced a bulgogi platter in his, chopsticks replacing the pen that you really should be holding instead. Occasionally, you had to cover your mouth, when he said something witty, else little grains fly into his face, not that his smile would be mad, too consumed by how own laughter.
Then, later, deep into the night, after the styrofoam piles on the garbage bin, Renjun crouches next to you, laying his head above the couch cushions while you yawned toward the open living room plan. He admired your dedication (really your side profile) and asked if you wanted to wrap up for the night, or to take a break, or to nap even, but you shook your head, reclining in his same position, restarting the explanation for your essay question to tell him why your practice exam deserves at least 85%, not 70. You kept talking, between yawns, eyes drooping, chest slowing, until your words broke completely from their last train of thought. Somewhere, you stopped listening too. He was not sure where, because he stopped also, eyes closing after yours, falling onto the floor.
Oh, it happened again, that same week. And the next, and the next, happening every other night for months.
Jeno and Haechan, his roommates this year – the two who replaced you, or made room, spontaneously, for Renjun when you abandoned him – were surprised to see you, that initial night. They enjoyed your company freshman and sophomore year, sporadically, while you had been with Renjun (not with him, just by his side) and the even rarer occasion they saw you separated. Of course you bonded as friends – all six – you, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Chaewon, Jaemin, but law school is competitive and, worse, time consuming, restraining your already limited time from people you do not see regularly (e.g. not Dahyun, Jimin, Renjun, Chaeyoung, or Yeoreum) So, as you and Renjun fought more, recoiled from each other, he retreated to his childhood friends, inadvertently distancing you from them too. And slowly, you rebuilt your relationships with them, too.
You rebuilt your friendships enough to walk from the maths department to Renjun’s apartment with Jeno at 7pm on a Thursday after studying alone in the library a couple hours, laughing at the story he told you about the time Jaemin lost his shoe in the fountain by the engineering department, only for you to return it with a senseless debate: how many holes are on a straw?
“You’re insane!” you shout as he opens the door, dropping your bag on the couch to follow him into the kitchen, completely missing Renjun’s small wave from the dining room behind you two; he brings his hand to his chest and stares at his palm while you follow Jeno around the apartment. “The math says it’s one.”
Jeno cracks open a soda, leaning against the counter. He smacks his lips, pondering the debate. You know he took calculus and geometry, and currently he has that topography class he just got out of, so he should be on your side! “It’s like this.” He puts up his finger. “There is one passage, –” He sticks up a second finger. “ – with two holes. There are two places you can enter. If we define a hole as an opening to which you can enter only or leave only, then –“
“What are you two talking abou –“
“– there are two holes in a straw.”
You smack Jeno’s hand down. “This isn’t a philosophical question. A straw is real and tangible in a torus shape, so it has just the one.”
“Can I give my opinion?” Renjun walks to the counter, poking his head above it.
“No!” you and Jeno shout together.
“Okay, then let me ask you this: do you consider your mouth and asshole to be separate openings or just the one hole?”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Technically,” you sigh, “Yes.”
“So you just admitted you’re talking shit!”
You deadpan. “Do you want to die?”
Jeno surrenders his hands, giggling to himself. “There’s a reason I’m not trying to be lawyer like the rest of you.” He puts his can upside down in the sink to drain the soda that wouldn’t fall out and claps his hands. “Anyways, I’m going to bed. I’ve gotten, like, 4 hours in the last three days, and I swear that I started hallucinating concert halls in the middle of architecture, so good night.”
“Yeah, yeah, good night, whatever,” you wave him off.
“Good night?” Renjun half-sings, staring Jeno down the hall.
“Oh!” you shout again, making him whip his head around as you rush to grab something from your backpack. You pull out a paper, small bag, tossing it to him in the same movement. “I got you some gummies from the library café. They were restocking, and I don’t know if you bought any since last night, so … yeah, there you go.”
Renjun pulls out the candies one at a time, sprawling them across the arm of the couch while you take a seat on the opposite, pulling a pillow into your crisscrossed applesauce position. Coca-Cola Haribo, Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers, Vilac peach yogurt jellies – Renjun doesn’t remember telling you about his favorite gummies; though, you might have just been … paying attention. He is not too subtle, he hopes, about it, about anything really. His emotions, he has been told, are written all over his face, involuntarily reacting before he can even think to process them. And with you in such close proximity, with the both of you fixing this relationship, his brain goes fuzzy, rewiring again, slowly coming down from disappointment to hope, but prevents him from slinking to your side again, unsure how near you will allow him to be. Renjun pops a candy bag open, just like Jeno did a soda, then points it at you first. You take two, one for yourself and place the other in his hand, coaxing him closer. The both of you rearrange on the couch until your shoulders are a magazine-width apart, necks reclined on the pillows, legs thrown toward the ground.
Renjun only lets the lull in conversation last a few seconds, maybe less, until his head starts drifting to the side. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I –” Your stomach growls before you can answer, metabolism having been ignited by the gelatin. “I guess I am …” You sink into the couch, pressing your lips tight, trying to hide between the cracks without bumping into him. He gives you space, inching away. “Sorry …”
“It’s fine.” Renjun tucks his pretty hair behind his ears, eyes cast between his legs on the cushion. “We can order food before we start studying.” He pauses, giving you time to think about from which delivery service to order, phone in his front pocket suddenly feeling heavy on his thigh, dropping a little too close to center; he rearranges his phone. And you rearrange your body to look up at the ceiling. Renjun copies you, after a second, after appreciating the glow across your cheeks, no matter how tired you seem. His eyes follow the outline around the apples of your cheeks, walking the same path to his ceiling, head tilting closely to yours. “Is hotpot okay?” he whispers near your ear.
Your shoulders shudder, almost hitting him in the chin, and you turn to him. “Again?” you ask, ending through a sigh. You hug your waist and snuggle deeper on the couch. He almost replaces the cushion with his narrow shoulder; albeit, he has been consistently going to the gym. It might be more comfortable now than freshman year, but he does wonder if you would have that playful smile on your lips again. It appears in your eyes. “Will you actually pour the soup into the bowls correctly, or are we going to have to drop meat into the broth again?”
Renjun smiles for you. “I can’t promise anything, other than it will taste good.”
“It’s hotpot,” you say as if the reasoning were obvious. “It’s hotpot, and more importantly, it’s your taste in hotpot.”
Reminiscing with you only goes as far back as when he apologized in the library this term, but he recalls everything before then too. You never really went to get hotpot with him before now; occasionally, yes, if you were available and nearby when he planned it. Actually, Junhui, one of the PhD students from the biology department, invited you sometime during sophomore year, when you and Renjun were walking around campus for fresh air, sipping melted bubble tea. That was every once in a while, maybe every couple months, but now, you go with him or order out with him every couple days. Your late night study snacks (dinner, really) does not always have to be hotpot, or boba; you also buy gimbap from the convenience store and pineapple juices, when neither of you have the time to dedicate 30-minutes, or an hour, to a full meal. Those moments remind him about freshman and sophomore year, in which school did not consume your waking hours like a ticket counter at an arcade.
“Are you ready for the exam?” you ask, once he sends the order, curling up on the couch.
Renjun flops next to you again, brushing his bangs away from his eyes to see you better. “Partially. There are still a few concepts I’m uncertain about, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete the writing portion in time, if Jeong really is going to reduce our time limit to an hour, instead of 90 minutes.”
You drop one leg on the ground again, extending your back on the cushions too. “Should we start going over the last lecture then?”
Renjun nods and reached over the arm of the couch for his backpack, pulling out a fat stack of cardstock. “Yeah, I started making flashcards on Tuesday after the finance PowerPoint. Too many vocab words.” He turns the index cards around his fingers, then looks up at you. Your eyes droop a bit down, wrists waddling on the side of your thigh. He tilts his head to the side. “Or we can eat first.” He would offer to walk you to your apartment, but you can stay over; you have, in the recent past and further. Plus, you usually protest him. Renjun thuds his head on the cushion, pulling a pillow into his lap, flittering his eyes up your face until he meets your gaze. “Do …” he swallows. Your pupils dart around him, but he feels as though you never leave his eye, so he restarts, “Do you … remember … when we first tried to get hotpot?”
“Yeah,” you yawn, slinking onto your shoulder. “I don’t think I trusted your suggestions completely back then, but after Jeong’s brutal pop quiz, –”
“No, um,” Renjun clears his throat. “Back-back then.” Before we broke up.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
A beat passes.
Then another one, both of you just staring at each other, unmoving, unblinking.
You open your mouth, but his chest rises, and you close it again.
He almost takes it back, mentally drawing all the what-ifs, even though he lives in a reality where all of this happened already – his breathing, his question, the fight. Even if he wanted to withdraw everything, he couldn’t.
“Yeah,” you surprise him, fingers pinching the couch. He mistakes the movement for another what-if, another hesitation, and reaches out, slowly threading his fingers under your palm. “I … I …” you stutter, corners of your lips twitching wide. “That was the first time I met your friends.”
“They’re your friends too,” he whispers, sliding his knuckles to meet yours. Renjun tugs your wrist weakly, and you comply. “They like you too.”
You search his eyes, small frown on your face. “… They do?”
Renjun swallows. “Yes, they do.”
Almost 48-hours pass before you see Renjun again, not seeing him during the intermediate day between business ethics. Your other shared class gets cancelled, too, giving you another excuse to avoid him.
You know why you avoid him, and you know when you avoid him – any time your friendship blurs the unspoken lines: talking through dawn, the smallest touches, always finding each other in the crowd. Even after your ‘break’, both of you found each other in your classes, unintentional at first. Everything was by chance this third year of college. Then, you talked to him, and he talked to you. Well, really, you argued back and forth, rallied at each other in class, encouraged by your fellow classmates and occasional professor. But you kept finding each other, preemptively refuting each other’s theses; it was a guess, of course, and it was always right.
Now, too, Renjun finds you outside the building, holding your backpack straps in both hands, twisting the fabric in circles.
“Hey,” he greets softly, jogging over to meet you faster. He catches your elbow, turning you to face him when you, still focused on the law building, bite your lip, dismissing his presence. You release the tension in your body, slinking into his singular hand, as if he were the only thing supporting you. “Nervous?” Renjun raises an eyebrow.
You swallow, then give him a weak smile, your mouth dropping the instant it formed. “That obvious?” You flicker your gaze across his eyes and frown. “Are you not nervous?”
Renjun relinquishes your arm. “No, I am. I just …” He pulls you to the side, away from the door, when other students start walking inside the building. His thumb rubs over your jacket, not that you feel it; you hear it though, like a scratching sound, before he stops, dropping his hand again, one last squeeze on your arm. “I just wanted to check on you first.” He gives you a weak smile, but this time, it does not go away as yours did, staying through the conversation. “Final exam,” he nods to the door. “Last one.”
“Of the term,” you mumble, then cringe, elbows tucking in your sides and lips pursing. If this is his attempt at comforting you, you aren’t being very welcoming to it. “Sorry.”
“How about,” he starts, and your glassy eyes peer into him, “Um,” his voice stutters, like caught between a rock and a hard place, unable to crawl out until you put a hand on his upper arm, resting there, circling around his small bicep like a funerary armband. “H-how about one more competition?”
You tilt your head to the side, frowning, hand slipping away too.
But Renjun catches you, compressing your knuckles in his swift move, then relaxing, slightly, not letting you go again. “If you’re ranked higher, –“ He pauses, briefly losing his train of thought, when you lick your lips open, leaning into his hold almost to the point of you both falling; but he stands solid. “– I’ll buy you dinner at Gen.”
“Gen?”
He brought it up a few times in the past, in the far past, asked you to go with him even more rarely, after a drink or two. And everyone knows the restaurant – a popular (and common) date night barbecue house, given by the candlelit atmosphere and the high frequency of two-person booths. Conversely, you brought it up once, that time you met his friends, dying for a reprieve, or a switching the night into something more intimate, you cannot remember. Although, depending on the day, your definition of intimacy differs; currently, you remember it as wanting to just be with him, wanting to slowly retire from the large crowd, wanting to hide your feelings a bit more, again, when he does not confirm his. Now, too, you counter him with follow-up questions, trying not to get your hopes up again, only for them to be dashed.
But Renjun nods and confirms his decision, his word. “Yeah,” he smiles, “Gen.”
“And …” you hum, tipping onto your toes, getting closer to his face, to his lips. You glance at his heart-shaped philtrum, so filled with love that his body expels it in the smallest details. He traces your eyeline, falling a little behind, just staring at your eyelids until you look back up at him. “… And what happens if you rank higher?”
“Mmmmm,” he ponders, voice a couple octaves higher, as if he had not yet considered winning, at all. “If I win,” he continues speaking slowly, dragging out the hypothetical. “If … if I win,” he restarts, darting through your face for an objection; you give none, instead breaking his personal space, coming just a biology textbook-thickness in front of his chest – far enough to take it all back in a second but close enough to give him more, should he ask. And he does. “If I win, you’ll owe me a kiss.”
[Renjun, 4:51 PM]
Have you checked the rankings yet?
[You, 4:55 PM]
I went this morning. They’re not up yet.
[Renjun, 4:57 PM]
:(
[Renjun, 4:58 PM]
They were supposed to be up yesterday.
[You, 4:59 PM]
I know :( but I can check again tomorrow.
[Renjun, 5:01 PM]
No, it’s fine. I’m heading in that direction anyway. I’ll check right now, and if it’s not up, we can go together tomorrow.
Renjun stands outside your apartment, late into the night, teetering on both his feet, hand rising and dropping over and over again … until you open the door.
“Oh,” you weakly blurt, stopping one foot ahead of the doorframe, almost through the small opening between his legs. You rub your eyes with your cotton long sleeves, the hair loose from your ponytail flopping around your face, framing the yawn escaping your tongue. “What …” You drop your hands to your sides, blinking rapidly at him. “What are you do –”
Renjun wastes no time, letting his body answer for him. He grabs your cheeks, linking his clean-cut fingernails behind your ears, thumbs rolling up the apples of your cheeks. You grab onto him, onto his waist and wrist, bunching your fingers around every surface you can reach. Renjun smacks his wet lips together, having obsessively bit and licked them just seconds earlier. His eyes close halfway, mid-prayer; you copy him, standing on your toes, too. He comes just a hair away, lips nearly brushing yours. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” you whimper, so faintly that he almost misses it. Almost. You never leave his attention.
He waits another millisecond, inhaling some extra courage, telling himself that you are more permanent than he thinks, before, finally, bending down. You push your mouth higher, involuntarily tightening your grip on him. Renjun slips his tongue between your lips, quickly, elongating the single kiss so he doesn’t have to ask again. You adjust, easily, even more when he simultaneously moves one hand into your hair, supporting your head, and the other under your chin, thumb lifting your face upward. His tongue tentatively slithers past your teeth, prodding your tongue awake, flicking it unfolded, and your knees buckle, walking him inside your apartment. He presses you against the closest wall, closing the door behind him.
“Does,” you swallow, digging your fingers into his flexible hips, pushing him into a pause, “this mean you ranked higher?”
Renjun steals a chaste peck, head rushing in, then pulling out slower, admiring all the minute details in your face until you open your eyes widely, peering into him. He shakes his head, “No,” breathing the word onto your mouth, lips puckering across the word. “It wasn’t up.” He cautiously steps forward, only by his toes. And when he sees your lack of restraint, he adds another. “I just … I didn’t want you to think that I had any other intentions.”
“Than?”
“Than to date you.”
You yank him even closer, his palm banging into the wall, his heartbeat beating on yours. You tilt your head to the side, too, nose brushing his cheek. “Can I … Can you kiss me again?”
Renjun combs your hair away from your ears, pushing it behind your head. He grazes his lips on the last layer of your vermillion, all the little nerve endings sensing him but not entirely feeling him. “Can I do more?”
“Anything.” You arrest his wrist, contracting like a festival bracelet that will not loosen, also needed for entrance the next day. “Please.” You walk him toward your room, almost like a waltz, leading him first this time. “Please.”
Renjun accepts, taking off his bag and jacket in the same action, dropping them outside your bedroom door – an accident; he aimed for inside, but kissing you takes priority, any day, and he returns his chest, his lips, his hands to you, standing only in his t-shirt and slacks, you mirrored on him with your own oversized long-sleeve and lounge shorts. He spins you around, your back against his torso, you gasping at the suddenness, and nips into your neck, tongue dragging along your skin to mollify it and prevent a mark. For now. One hand holds your jaw, letting him find your perfect pulse point; then travels between your clothed boobs, cupping and squeezing, harder, provoked by your winded whispers. His fingers flick your waistband, tapping into your skin. He moves his lips down your shoulder, peppering gentle kisses coolly.
“Renjun, please.” You sigh into his embrace, his hug, then take off your shirt, giving him more skin to touch.
He kisses your bare shoulder, hands diving into your underwear now, and you grab his bicep even tighter, making him grunt lowly. Your nails dig through his thin t-shirt, dragging him another step forward, his cock nudging your ass cheeks separate. But it’s not enough. The material prevents him from feeling you, from you feeling him, entirely, so he pushes apart your vulva, slipping his fingers over your pussy to your clit, getting you wetter while he single-handedly unbuttons his trousers. They fall to the ground, and he steps out of them. When he stands taller again, he leans forward, fingers slipping entirely, knuckle-deep, inside your wet pussy. You, reflexively, bend over, face sloping toward the mattress, catching yourself on his arm.
“Ah, Renjun.”
“Too much?” he mumbles, nose brushing low behind your neck. He drags his nimble fingers on the crevice between your pussy and leg, drying them as he pulls out to put his hands on your shorts and spin you around, bare chest to bare chest. Renjun stares into your eyes, stooping a bit lower to give you the upper hand. His gaze dips down your face, just briefly, when your lips part, an exhale escaping.
“No,” you shake your head, returning his eyes to yours. You touch the waistband of his underwear, running your thumb along the seam. “I – I want more.”
Renjun nods, just once, letting the sentence seep into his brain, then he nods again, more fervently, his lips running back to you, after he understands/it fully hits him. His palms slide across your body: on the crown of your head, fingers spreading downward to support your neck, and on your lower back, guiding you over the bed. You don’t go down pliantly though, sticking to him, swiftly moving to anchor on his sturdy shoulders, keeping him locked in until he kisses down your face, down the column of your neck, sucking at the base and leaving budding hickeys to decorate your collarbone. He licks between your boobs, tongue covering his bottom teeth as he takes your nipple in his mouth, hands holding your hips down kneading the neglected teat, rubbing his tight fingers along the hard bud like a washboard.
You inhale sharply, picking your head off the mattress to see him better, then drop back down again, back arching, moaning, “Renjun, yes, oh my God.” You pick your hips up, planting your feet on the duvet, humping the air to feel him, feel the outline of his abandoned dick. “Mmm,” you thrash about, knocking him down your body.
Renjun lands above your appendix, adding another mark low on your stomach, before saying, “I’m getting to it.” He picks up his head, smirking. “Or, are you going to argue with me now?” He kisses above your shorts. “Again?”
He sneaks his way into your shorts, under your panties, jerking them down your smooth legs, and diving into your pussy, cold breath igniting the bundle of nerves. You accidentally twitch your thighs, squeezing his face; you hold him there a moment longer, raising your clit to his waiting tongue. When he licks around your vulva, your legs slacken, allowing him to do what he initially wanted. His tongue trails along your inner thighs, gently nipping and sucking. He holds your knees apart, giving himself the space to work, focusing on the outer part of your cunt, tenderizing the area until your legs start shaking, collapsing on the bed – that is when he pokes his tongue through your orifice, resting his cheek on your inner thigh, his wet sloppy kiss returning to him. His nose circles over your clit, scraping it side-to-side as his tongue flutily cleans your walls. He inserts a finger beside his tongue, wriggling it deep inside your cunt, met with your spongey, little spot, then another one, pulling back and forth, sliding his lips onto your clit again.
“Fuck, Renjun,” you whine, twisting and turning, knocking him about. He pushes his free plan just outside your pussy, keeping you down flat, sucking your entire clit between his lips, tongue ruffling the hard nub. “You’re going to make me cum.”
“Mmhmm,” he nods, briefly disconnecting to spit on his fingers. He slowly slides the tip of his palm under your clitoral hood, winding his arm in a half circle, preparing to drive his fingers in you at a faster pace. “That is my intention. Do you want me to stop?”
You shake your head.
Renjun climbs on top of you again, lunging into your face, his head sloped to the side, barely supported on the one hand at your side, repeatedly milling his boxers between your legs. Occasionally, he breaks the kiss, to check on his fingers buried inside your cunt, only to restart his grinding. Your lips split, releasing a moan inside his mouth. Renjun grits his teeth, the tip of his dick getting flicked by your heavy blanket, then smashes his lips on yours, coiling and toiling, exhaling heavily through his nose, onto your cheek. He shoves a third finger in your cunt, so far that your body arches off the bed; he grabs the front of your pussy, roughly wriggling his entire hand and, essentially, pawing at your pussy, your hamstring muscles contracting, toes curling. You clutch his bicep, eyes shutting, knees turning outward.
He repeats long pecks behind your ear, gently nibbling the lobe where you periodically wear earrings. “Can I give you more?” he whimpers, begging, hips knocking a little bit closer, biting his lip.
Your nails dig into his skin, chin jutting to the side, neck allowing him extra access. “Please, Renjun, I’m so close. You’re going to make me cum, you’re going to make me cum. Deeper, oh my God, please.”
Renjun slips off his underwear, using the edge of your bed and his legs. He lines the tip of his dick behind his knuckles, gently prodding his hand forward to give you a deeper sensation like you ask. You peek open your eyes slowly, then stare at him, feeling him kneel high between your thighs; you glance down to his cock in hand, damp head leaking pre-cum like lubricant, and nod, catching his drift. Renjun pushes his thumb onto your clit, rocking it side to side, and slips his fingers out, replacing it with his cock. He groans with you, interlacing his dry (yet soft and moisturized) hand, jaw hanging low, heavy breaths flattening his lungs.
Your free hand snakes into the bedsheets, crawling under a pillow, arm raising to the ceiling. Renjun kisses you again, strangled moans from both of you shaken, not stirred, by your tongues. And the moment his cock buries fully inside your cunt, you gasp, opening your mouth wide enough for him to slip his tongue inside too, swirling yours to the front of your mouth, into his, where he can suck on it. Your body rises in temperature rapidly, chests abrading simultaneously, fervently trying to fuse your bodies together, exploring each other’s mouths. His hand falls close to your cheek, almost slipping and falling completely as the pressure in his abdomen builds.
“Tell me you’re close,” he whispers shakily, legs, abs, biceps trembling. Renjun feels your walls gradually tighten, coaxing the pre-cum from his cock; he can feel that, too, trickling down his shaft, mingling with your wetness. He picks up the pace, hips turning obviously, left, right, left, right, then pelvis snapping up, up, up, joining your pussy whenever he bangs you into the headboard. “Angel, does that feel good?”
You bite your lip, nodding, then let go. “I’m … I’m …” He keeps the pattern: left, right, left, right, left and right, up, up, up. His pelvis drives you through the bedframe, but his hips bring you back down, and you roll your eyes into your head, moaning loudly. You hold onto his wrist, ground yourself through the building orgasm. “So, so good, Renjun. Oh, my God, I’m cumming. Keep going, keep going.” He continues rolling his hips, cock floundering inside your pussy, tip thumping rhythmically on your sweet spot, until your wall spasms slow down, the compressions loosening enough for him to slip through. Your pussy quickly returns to its original tightness in the downtime, and you mewl when he pulls out, tip catching on the stretch.
Renjun clenches the base of his cock, fingers replacing your pussy as he pulls out, mumbling, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” the syllables of your name also spilling from his tongue.
You sluggishly pull yourself back up, but when you stand on your knees, similar to him, you fall forward. It gives you the perfect position to suck his dick though, and your hands join his single one, tugging on his shaft, twisting your wrists in different directions, at different speeds, spreading your cum all over his length. Tentatively, you stick out your tongue, his cock barely scraping it as he fucks the tiny hole created by your hands and you jerk him off. You cautiously look up at him and find him, eyes closed, pointed toward the ceiling, jaw dropped smally as he controls his breath. His hands comb into your hair, sketching around your ears, gently pulling you further up his cock, making one of your hands disappear.
"Oh, just like that, angel," he moans, "I'm gonna cum. Can I cum in your throat?"
You give him a strangled whine, bobbing your head up and down largely. Yes. You pump him a couple more times, slurp his cock loudly a couple more times, and he cums into your mouth. Renjun pulls his cock out, white cum stringing from his to your lips, overflowing on the corner, onto your cheek and chin, your tongue curving down like a bowl to catch every drop. He cups the beads falling down your face and swipes it into your mouth, persuading you to swallow, which you do, around his thumb.
Silence envelopes the two of you for a second, you and Renjun locked in that final position, breathing heavily, chests still heaving. You lay down first, then gesture for him to join you. He shakes his bangs in front of his face, smiling, and complies.
"Don't you need to use the bathroom?"
"In a minute," you wave him off, nudging yourself onto his shoulder. He lets you rest there, his eyes closing, breathing evenly, also spent, yielding to that end-of-the-term exhaustion. "Can I ... give you something too?"
Renjun opens an eye, then the other, seeing you stare at him. He analyzes your features, darting through the exhaustion, finding your wide eyes and fidgeting hands. "You've already given me everything." He mattes down your hair, brushing the shorter layers behind your ear to see your pretty face better. "Do you want to go again?" he smiles, dropping his arm on your shoulder, clinging closer to you. "I might need a minute,” he laughs.
You kiss him quiet, lips closed, staying on his for a long moment before you pull away, snaking a leg between his. "It's not necessarily the same ... as what we just did," you explain, whispering, "I want you to know that ... that my intentions, too, are to date you."
Renjun beams. "So, how about we get that dinner at Gen then?" You search his eyes, shoulders rising faster. His hand slips onto your upper arm, squeezing and rubbing the naked skin. "No competition," he clarifies, "No winners or losers, just you and me."
"Yeah, okay," you smile back, feeling him scoot even closer. “I’d like that a lot.”
#neohub#nct smut#renjun smut#nct dream smut#nct fluff#nct angst#renjun angst#renjun x reader#nct fanfic#nct dream fanfic
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you can tell me about your idea!!!
thank you so much 😭 it's kinda long sorry
SO i was listening to a song my sister like (Valerie, Amy Winehouse) and there's this line about ginger hair and it was just so specific ig it stuck with me? so im thinking man who do i know with red hair...DUH KUWABARA!!!
nearly every song i listen to gets assigned a character or ship or relationship of some sort idk why but yeah once i fixated on the hair i was able to expand on the rest of the song and a sort of idea settled in the back of my head about kuwameshi
we all know kuwabara is always the one getting left behind but what if while he's off doing his thing yusuke also feels that sense of loss? an absence even though it was his decision to up and leave. it makes no sense cos hey! you felt the need to go back to the demon realm bro but he cannot help how he feels left behind in some illogical sense. i made some notes 😤😤
centers round the time where yusuke goes back to makai after the whole sensui debacle and kuwabara is getting his education studying in prep for college (hell yeah boy !!) not sure if the timelines even match up like that but i literally dont care
i'm working under the canon divergence that keiko really did decide she's not gonna wait for urameshi like that but ofc she's still his bestie and he loves her sooooo much <3
so he's going back. he's a demon now so he feels drawn to the culture. it's a side of himself he's never known after feeling so othered ofc he's interested right?
i mean sure he grew up with other humans but almost everyone hated him/was scared of him ironically he was called a demon or monster or wtv
reactions like that are why he almost decided not to come back to life in the first place!! it wasn't a welcoming atmosphere and even his home didn't feel great cos his mom isn't exactly the mothering type
im all for deadbeat moms but the neglect will fuck a kid up. demon heritage or not
and he loves her and all but it's just all fucked up at home so he ended up wandering around a lot being mad about his shitty life and he likes fighting so that's what he did!
and obviously in makai this behavior isnt like. crazy or uncalled for
but yeah the only connections he's got to ningenkai is his mom, keiko (her parents by extension) and of course kuwabara; the only friends he managed to not scare off
anyway. you get it. so yusuke is back in makai and without his permission his mind keeps wandering to kuwabara who he hasn't seen in let's say. a year and some change? i'll decide later but A While
and like. last time he was in the demon world kuwa was WITH him yknow? like yeah the world was ending but it feels weird without him even if he is having a blast fighting with his new demon buddies and acquaintances
so he's a little distracted when he literally came here to fight he cant even focus on it
"how is college prep treating him? are the teachers there just as bad as middle school? did he make new human friends? a girlfriend?" basically he's spiraling over changes he might be missing out on this very moment
there's a bunch of talk in the song where the singer wonders if valerie dyed her hair if she's busy if she ever paid that fine if she sold her house if she got a man so that's where i got it lol
yusuke doesn't have to worry about kurama and hiei cos hey they're from here and have lived way longer and they actually do visit but who knows what typa shit could be happening to kuwa right now
ofc he can take care of himself he's really strong but yusuke can't help but remember that time he let kuwabara go when he shouldn't have and he almost died because he wasn't there and yeah. he's worried. sue him
so it's half worry half wistfulness and maybe some other secret third thing and when hiei and maybe kurama (depending on how the idea forms as i write) come to visit or maybe they're also participating wtv
he cant help but think well kuwabara could be here with us if he really WANTED to :/ he's got the jigen to down pat by now so...why hasn't he...
and those old but ever remaining insecurities resurface about how people don't wanna be around him they think he's a nuisance at best no good waste of time a trouble maker. keiko already dumped my sorry ass so who knows maybe kuwabara just...wisened up
hiei and kurama are like this bitch is back on his bullshit (affectionate)
they manage to weedle his worries out of him hiei ofc trying to act like he doesnt really care (he cares a lot) "you must not have much faith in kuwabara if you think he'd abandon you just from some time apart. and i thought HE was the oaf between the two of you"
kurama with his fox self is like "well yes hiei is right of course kazuma is too loyal to do something like that. but he is human...the only human of us now."
yusuke is like wth is that supposed to mean on the defensive even tho kurama is their friend and hasn't even said anything untrue and hiei narrows his eyes a bit maybe but is still acting like this doesn't really concern him
"i just mean that...from what i've learned about humans over the time i've spent with them...time feels different. we demons live such long lives that when faced with the human lifespan well...it can be laughable to some. that's why demons can be so callous about their lives."
yusuke just wants him to get to the point ofc "what i'm saying is we don't need a lot of contact with each other to keep relationships fresh and healthy but, kuwabara might be a little different. 3 years will do nothing to your bond but...i do worry about longer periods..."
and he seems to just trail off and it just gets quiet and a little sad and hiei isn't looking at them anymore
kurama starts again pretty cheerfully tho "well, don't worry! i'm planning on staying in the human world for quite some time once i'm done with this visit! i do have the company to take care of so i'll make sure to see kazuma all the time! i'll even send him a message from you if you want to say anything :)"
kurama has deliberately been using kuwa's first name knowing damn well urameshi doesn't even use it because this dude is not JUST a sweetie he's a fucking master manipulator. gaslight gatekeep bbg
yusuke is like okay yeah no new plan i'll just go see him now. no need for a middle man thanks anyway and then he's just gone. left the tournament early. like bruh that's what you came here for 😐
so yeah he's breaking into kuwa's house next thing you know and ofc he goes through the window not the door like a normal person and he just kinda stops short because he hasn't seen his friend in what feels like forever even though it's only been like a year or so but he just looks so different
and yeah a big part might be the hair he's never seen without that popadour, long soft copper coils, and he's somehow even bigger than when yusuke left him jesus when did he get so swole? when did he have time in between all those brainiac classes
yusuke knows he's bound to look a lil different too ofc i mean they weren't kids anymore really but like. when they hell did you go and grow up?
"next time i come back is this even gonna be your house anymore? will you still wanna hang out with dropout delinquent demon urameshi?" he gets so insecure in so little time
anyway kuwabara didn't sense him at first cos yusuke isn't a threat and he never really thought he'd be coming especially not yet but when he does notice
kuwabara just gets the biggest goofiest grin he's like urameshi you dog when the hell did you get back in town you're early!!
and yusuke is significantly eased by this reaction but now he feels stupid cos he up a left everything just to what? bother kuwabara while he studies to achieve his dreams? yusuke has got no human world aspirations like keiko had. like kurama has. like kuwabara.
and ofc kuwabara looks glad to see him but he wasn't desperate enough to just show up like yusuke had just done and he feels like a pathetic loser so he pouts
he's like yeah hey man just uh. checking in. and i should probably check out hah you seem busy with your books so im gonna scram and he tries to retreat through the window
and ofc kuwa is NOT letting him get away
and there's that desperation yusuke had selfishly wanted to see. kuwabara had just grabbed him without thinking even though he'd promised himself when urameshi left he wasn't gonna just sit around waiting for his life to start when he came back
he remembers when yusuke took him into that headlock and he wanted to succeed like he said he would that day
but still he's just thinking about urameshi all the time and it's awful. he always said he was gonna beat him some day but he just wanted to be near him. but all he sees is his back, even right now
part ii cos it's too many words!
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Not Me some more - Eps 6 & 7
@plantsarepeopletoo @anon451 @shouldiusemyname @thegalwhorants @wen-kexing-apologist @slayerkitty @fanfictionroxs @pandasmagorica
First post here
You're getting an update sooner than I thought because I skipped nearly allll my Sunday shows to take advantage of me and the watchbuddies all being on the weekend! (Oh My God Love in Translation finale brb - update will wait) (Finale was good am back, I feel so warm and cozy, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah how amazing Not Me is)
Episode 6 was a lot and episode 7 was AMAZING
There was NO Todd in either ep so I have no additional thoughts on him.
The plan in ep 6 was bonkers but it was crazy for White to switch it out right at the end!! Strangulation was a bit much though...
[Image of Yok saying: Your plan sucked]
I did adore the crosswalk metaphor in 6 1/4 though, walking into traphic because you're in the right doesn't mean you won't be killed, and if you are killed will your death have made a difference? mmmmm I really want other people I know to watch this show...
[Image of White saying: Your life is worth more than you think}
interestingly one of the only things I had already seen was that moment under the pride flag
not with sound or words, just the hand grab and the jumping and, with no context, I had assumed it would be much later in the series, a moment where the characters accept their relationship to each other...but nope, Instead it was a moment of shared celebration before that shift in the relationship, I might love that even more!!
Episode 7 felt like it shifted tone a little though to what I'm not quite sure yet.
We did get apparent resolution/explanation for the Eugene/Gram stuff
[Image of Eugene saying: Knowing nothins is the worst thing ever]
Seriously, she was dumped and then drawn in and then dumped again, very rough for Eugene.
I'm still not sure whether Graham was in love with Black or her though...
No more evolution on the theory of who hurt black and why specifically, except it's either the obvious answer (Tawi) or Tod...
Also, gosh! First was distracting this ep! Like how am I supposed to read the subtitles when I can't look away from his eyes??
[Multiple images of Yok staring at other characters]
Excuse me sir, please put your eyes away so I can focus!
[Image of Yok with his hand on Grahams face as they stare into each others eyes]
ALSO WHAT KIND OF TEASING WAS THIS ^^^ First Graham and Black now Graham and Yok? Somebody better kiss Graham soon (I mean he did kiss Eugene but STILL).
The nuance of Yok's mother being negatively impacted by his actions... ahh I do adore it.
@plantsarepeopletoo made a comment when we were watching about White being thought and Black being action and the halves of the whole they make up. All these people influenced by Black's action now being exposed to White's thought...
[Image of Sean and White asleep together]
Also again, OffGun is still working for me no matter how much I want White and Graham to kiss...
PLUS
Cop/Yok progression!! (I haven't learned Gawin's characters name yet)
[Yok saying: Will you uncuff me so we can have a proper conversation]
(Gawin also showing off his eyes this ep!)
(also Yok loves him for his skill as an artist?? Be still my beating heart)
I have been promised GOOD things for next ep :D
[Yok saying: It's my turn to draw you]
Also commentary on the police!! The actions we don't see and the difference between individuals and an organisation. SO MUCH IS BEING SAID IN THIS SHOW. Working both inside and outside organisations is required to make change. Also the way officers are granted automatic respect/lack of suspicion.
[image 1 with Yok saying: being both a cop and an artist that runs from cops. Image 2 with cop saying: I want to make things better than they are now]
Plus the confirmation from multiple characters this ep around knowing that their actions might lead to death or jail and choosing it anyway... Youth is such a passionate time.
[Yok saying: I never considered myself a hero who fights for justice]
[Sean saying: I do whatever needs to be done]
I think that's all for now, I am curious how the rising up of more people might challenge the more extreme actions of the gang, since White was working hard this ep to make them understand that alienating the people would only hurt their cause...
Also how long before Black wakes up? And at what point does the gang find out? Is White in place for the whole series?
Also didn't get any dad these two eps either so White hasn't been White for a while...ugh patience
This ended up with a lot of Yok images again... no idea why that keeps happening.
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what are your top three favorite bnha/mha ships? (just askin for fun :-))
OH OH OH!!
My top spot always switches depending on the main focus of the series at that time/how much fan content there is, so it’s always either Togachako or BkDk (bc ofc it is)
Rn that list would probably go somewhere along the lines of…
1: Togachako
2: BkDk
And surprisingly number 3 would have to be minachako. Which, quite frankly, it’s a crime I haven’t drawn fanart of them yet. Though minachako is also sometimes switched out for todobaku??? But that’s rare the fan content is just so good when you find it.
I ship pretty much everything though except for probably one popular ship. Izu//ocha I’m actually pretty okay with though lol.
I just love when characters are gay and in love I’m ngl <333333
My reasons for not liking a ship can be so stupid and specific though it’s a little funny. I stopped liking izu//ocha as much as I used to bc the ship was no longer something I could project whatever type of dynamic I wanted onto it (that fucking season 6 intro that gave her bkdk moments made me so mad for this reason, why not just keep the appeal that hetero shonen ships have and make it something everyone can like based on what they want yk????)
Todo//deku made me mad though bc the fics would always demonize bakugou and/or basically give him the same bitchass attitude that bakugou had except for the bullying. At least that’s how it was when I came into the fandom
I think the funniest part about me getting into mha was that I thought I just wouldn’t give a shit about ships bc I wasn’t really into shipping BEFORE mha but ig that backfired LMFAO
My younger self would be so disappointed at how cringe I am…
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{minors & ageless blogs dni}
🍑 on writing smut..
1 - writing smut is an exploration not a reflection of who you are and it’s great way to delve into your sexuality/kinks in a safe manner. your writing should turn you on, just as much as your audience 😌 so, don’t force yourself to write about things that you don’t like - even if you think it might generate more notes and give you more interactions.
2 - if you’re stuck while writing a piece try focusing on the five senses - sight, smell, touch, sound, and taste. ask yourself some questions to help build the scene > ex: are the characters looking into each others eyes or a specific body part? what kind of cologne/perfume do they smell on their partners? are they warm to the touch? can they feel the goosebumps on their partner’s skin? are they vocal or quiet? did their breathing change? can they taste strawberry lip gloss or a lingering cigarette with just a kiss? etc.
3 - don’t get intimidated by inexperience (& I am using this description a little loosely, but it applies however you may take it). you can always draw inspiration from videos, gifs, audio clips, and reading other works + researching certain subjects/kinks is also super helpful!
4 - respect your boundaries/space as a writer - you don’t have to explain your reasoning for why you want to write about a certain kink or sexual act. in turn, the best way you can respect the boundaries of a reader is by tagging fics appropriately!
5 -not all smut has to include some type of penetration. you can deliver an equally steamy piece by merely focusing on foreplay.
6 - body parts are what they are & there is no reason to complicate what to call them in a fic lol keep it simple
7 - if you’re still insecure about writing a long and drawn out sex scene, try focusing on building the tension leading up to the moment! the few steamy paragraphs you end up writing will always hit different if you have some good tension 🫠
8 - don’t forget that every act is intimate - no matter how fluffy or dirty you write your smut piece and a good way to relay that is by describing the characters emotion in the moment - think about their inner thoughts towards their partner: what are they thinking? how are they feeling? are they happy, nervous, stupidly horny or angry? this is also a good way to enhance the smut without actually writing anything super descriptive regarding actions.
9 - note reactions; lashes fluttering, back arching, jaw twitching, lip biting, legs shaking…point out the responses to every touch, kiss, thrust…
10 - finally, you don’t have to force yourself to consistently write smutty pieces. It does get exhausting/boring writing about it all the time, and that’s okay! if you still want to write about intimacy but not focus on actual sex try thinking about other things like aftercare, domestic moments, or love confessions.
> I feel like you can never have too many writing tips, and wanted to share these because I think it’s interesting that I write smut quite often for this blog. I used to run a blog for another fandom before this account and I was very insecure about writing smut! I definitely feel like I’ve grown over time, and I’m always learning from other amazing writers and creators! I just wanted to give my two cents on things that have helped me 🧡
#writing tips#feel free to add on if you like !#& I don’t mind sharing more of you guys like these 😊#I know so many of us write smut#but if you’re new to writing or are just coming back after a long break (like I did)#and find writing smut intimidating/awkward#I hope this helps in some way 🧡🧡🧡#peach says hi#this did turn out longer than expected lmao
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Okay so stay with me as I've been having thought...mostly Hawk and Thrush Thoughts...sort of...
Is there a fic (and there isn’t because I’m about to get oddly specific – maybe this is more of a cry to write this because I won’t) where somebody has inadvertently gotten close to Beta (on purpose seems a bit cruel and horrible) as an Aloy replacement?
In my head it’s Talanah – in some way this seems wrong and a touch out of character, but you know those oddly specific details? Well yeah, she works for those oddly specific details so stick with me here…
So Talanah crosses paths with Erend and naturally they get on about Aloy and he mentions that she’s spending a lot of time helping reunite the Quen Fleet and rather innocently makes a joke about how Aloy is more interested in spending time with a Quen Marine than reuniting the fleet (because of course the GAIA Gang have been gossiping about Aloy and Seyka – not to mention they’ve got an inside source! Alva is right there!) Talanah isn’t impressed by this information, though doesn’t know why (Erend has a good idea, but he’s already opened his big mouth once so he’s not doing that again).
How Talanah makes her way to the base I’m not sure (I can’t work it all out!) and cue an awkward first meeting with Beta because of course Aloy didn’t mention that there’s this anxious identical ‘twin’ wandering around. So Talanah is about to leave (because this wasn’t on her ‘Life with Aloy’ bingo card) when she discovers Beta doesn’t know how to use any weapons and really, how could Aloy be so careless as to leave her twin sister all alone in the base with no way to defend herself? Anybody could walk in! As evident by the fact Talanah had just walked in – that’s her argument and she’s sticking to it, she won’t hear any objection from Beta about how the base security was likely programmed by Aloy to let Talanah in because she's been there once before.
So Talanah sticks around to show Beta how to use a bow (or any weapon really) and Beta totally isn’t her Thrush because that would just be weird (not that the whole situation isn’t weird to either of them, but its just a little nice for Beta to have company and for Talanah to be away from the stress of the Hunters Lodge). And I can totally see Beta being the one to tell Talanah everything – about Nemesis, about Zero Dawn and Elisabet Sobeck, about how she and Aloy are clones (again, none of this was on Talanah’s ‘Life With Aloy’ bingo card). She’d also give her a Focus (because Beta doesn’t understand why Aloy isn’t handing these out like sweets to people!) and shows Talanah how to use the Focus and oh look! They’ve taught each other things and that’s nice.
So one day they decide to venture out of the base (again, I don’t know, I really don’t know why) and who do they stumble across? Well Amadis of course (because every story needs a villain – that was harsh, he’s not actually going to do anything wrong this time). He doesn’t get a close look at Beta and just thinks Aloy has drastically cut her hair and changed her clothes (she did it like three time the last time he met her, where is she hiding those armour sets???) and he passes comment about how both he and Talanah were using each other to get over other people the whole time. Talanah has an ‘oh fuck’ moment and Amadis goes on his way again not realising he's caused total turmoil again.
So Talanah’s ‘oh fuck’ moment hits home that she’s drawn to Beta because of Aloy and she’s done exactly what she never wanted to be and made somebody her second choice. And deep down I think no matter how close the two of them were getting, Beta knows she’s an Aloy replacement and her self esteem is so far in the ground that she’s just pretty much ‘that’s just it for me, I’ll never be anything other than the inferior copy’ (and my poor baby Beta, I want to hug her) so she’s just kind of clung to somebody being nice to her even if it’s possibly (keep possibly in your mind) not meant for her in the first place.
I didn’t say this wasn’t angst – I mean, my opening summary of this didn’t indicate there wasn’t angst!
How this ends I’m not sure – I have two options, again…stick with me…
Aloy returns to the base right in the aftermath of the ‘oh fuck’ moment and is totally confused about what Talanah is doing there, but she’s kind of grateful that Talanah was looking after Beta. Then she finds out how close the two have gotten and is not impressed because how dare Talanah go near Beta! And Aloy totally won’t admit to being jealous and what Quen Marine? She’s be reuniting the Quen Fleet!
The two then have a long overdue heart to heart and all their feelings laid bare, happily ever after Hawk and Thrush. This ending seems a bit harsh on Beta who I don’t think deserves that so from stage right enter some unseen original character who has never, ever laid eyes on Aloy and knows nothing about her so they can like Beta for being Beta.
Option 2 goes totally the opposite way, enters rare pare mode and Talanah realises Beta is a totally different person to Aloy and while the original reason she spent time with Beta was Aloy (and was totally wrong) she’s actually rather drawn to Beta’s totally different personality and quirks. Cue Aloy returning to the base with Seyka and being totally confused about what’s going on – and has Beta just stolen her moment? She was about to introduce her girlfriend to the gang and now Beta and Talanah are a thing and…well…typical sibling bickering.
Of course there’s hidden option 3 which is everybody is miserable and unhappy, but that seems a bit bleak even for me.
Well thanks for sticking with me for this long…whatever this is – I don’t know what this is. I’m going back under my rock now, I’ll keep these wild idea to myself as this got out of hand 😁
#horizon forbidden west#aloy#talanah khane padish#beta hfw#hawk and thrush#erend vanguardsman#GAIA Gang#seyloy#this totally got out of hand#I should be working - I should LITERALLY be sat at my work computer and I'm turned around using my own laptop#that's home working for you#I'm going back under my fandom rock#I don't come out much
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Welcome to my hellhole blog
I'm Supernova but you can call me Nova to shorten it, my pronouns are she/her and I'm an adult. Requests are closed
I'm an artist and writer, so I'll post either of those things here; though the blog still retains a focus on writing, fanart is more of a far in-between thing.
The 3 fandoms I will make content for in this blog are: Super Mario Bros., The Legend of Zelda and Donkey Kong. Here's my Ao3 if you'd rather read my stuff there.
ALL HAIL LINKE
I'm SO normal about Spirit Tracks guys I promise hahaha-
Global blog rules:
While this blog contains SFW works, it also hosts NSFW content so minors do not interact. - Don't lie or I'll find out, oh and, if someone you know is a minor and interacts with my posts please shoot me a quick DM so I can block them (that is, if you provide the evidence).
You can find all my written works under '#cosmic writing', headcanons under '#character headcanons' and the stuff I've drawn with the '#my art' tag.
Don't even dare steal my art, claim as yours, remove my watermark (if applicable), trace or feed to AI.
Repost accounts get the fuck lost. Other than that, feel free to share my art if you just wanna show it to others on a different platform because you liked it but no uploading to any accounts you may own.
Absolutely NO homophobia, transphobia, racism, or any other type of exclusionary or discriminatory behavior towards any group of people is tolerated. You're not welcome here and I'll block + report you if I catch you doing any of that.
Pedophiles GTFO. Nobody likes you, shoo. I'll report and block you too.
My DMs aren't really open for friendly chat (sorry!). It just makes me ridiculously anxious having to interact through that medium with people I don't know, though I can assure you that I'd feel very flattered if you really considered DMing me. Please only use DMs for questions you really want a private answer for.
My asks are always open! And to add a little to the previous point, if you wish to know me better then you best bet is to use the asks since my DMs are closed. Go on! Ask me as many silly questions as you'd like or share your deranged ideas (I'll try to follow along), I might approach you then.
While I always try my best to know as much lore as I can find for the games/characters, and I have also played a lot of videogames for the franchises I write for, do note that I have an embarrassingly bad memory and I seriously might forget an important plot point even if I've already seen it previously. So if you catch something lore-inaccurate now you know why that might be.
Additionally, if you wanna share an NSFW idea/fic/whatever else please stick to the vanilla stuff for the most part. Meaning no non/dub-con, feces/piss and the like, blood, knifeplay and a couple others I can't recall right now. If you wanna know what I allow because it wasn't mentioned here just send me an ask and I'll answer, free of judgement.
9 times outta 10 my content's gonna feature a GN reader, unless I happen to write a very self-indulgent NSFW fic.
All of the NSFW x reader content I write will feature dom reader in one way or another be it through subtle actions or not so subtle ones. Sorry if you're not into that but that's just how I was born and I can't do much about it.
Please keep yandere and family/pregnancy content outside of my blog and requests. Doesn't bother me, but I just don't like it.
Requests closed right now. Don't have specific rules at the moment but just remember to follow these rules unless you want me to not do your request when they are open.
I think that's it for now, but these rules are bound to change at some point so come back to this post after a while or if I say I've made changes
Navigate my masterlists here
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HI IT'S ME AGAIN, i loved what you did in the other request i made! you are an amazing writer and you deserve to be recognized for it B)
may i request.. jinx x love witch reader? (maybe a modern au) like the craft but hotter
have a good day sweetieee ♡♡
thank you so much bestie youve always been so nice to me and encouraging of my writing!! <333
i think this request is so cute and sweet! i wasn’t super sure how to write this im sorry if it’s not so good. but i still hope you enjoy!
also sorry i had no idea how to make this “like the craft but hotter” so i just made reader n jinx have a little moment
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~ .~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
🔮Amor Magicae🔮
🔮the weather was hot, muggy, and dense. the sun shining seemed to cook jinx from the inside out. despite the climate, jinx still went out just for the sake of being outside. wandering around aimlessly, she wasn’t expecting anything more than slight entertainment in the form of people watching.
🔮all that changed the moment that your paths interlocked. her attention is automatically drawn to the colors swirling around in your irises. the sunlight shining in your eyes makes them resemble the wings of monarchs. jinx starts sweating. she’s not sure if it's the lack of oxygen in the Zaun or the heat. she smiles at you but doesn’t dare to make a sound, scared that if she opens up her mouth a butterfly might come flying out. she decides she can’t let you walk away.
🔮what you both call a friendship is developed. in all actuality, what develops, is a relationship of sorts. lingering fingertips and glances. accidental moments. much like two black holes, you both had no other choice but to consume each other. she floods your mind, in the same way, you flood hers.
🔮one day jinx requests something of you. a love potion. simple enough. you’re aware of the danger but you would happily do anything jinx asked you to. you expect her to pick it up and go on her way, but are presently surprised by her coming back to pick up the potion with food for the both of you. she claims to just know you haven’t had lunch yet. you joke your powers are rubbing off on her.
🔮jinx is especially jumpy while you guys eat. you drop a piece of food and watch it fall to the ground. that split second is all it takes. jinx reaches over and dumps the entire bottle into your drink, swirls it around with her pinky, and wipes the remaining droplets on her pants. the strong sweet and floral taste hits you before the flavor of your drink even does. immediately your focus is on her, while she’s looking at everything else in the room instead of at you. keeping your eyes focused on her, you down the whole glass. a silent confession.
🔮the potion was a bust. you knew it would be. to you, this means nothing. to jinx, this is reason enough to be concerned. as the hours go on she realizes there’s been no change and jinx almost seems to fold into herself. like an animal trapped between fight or flight. she can’t take it anymore, so she breaks the tension as abruptly as she knows how. next thing you know jinx has jumped up and is getting closer to your face with every word she exclaims.
🔮“What did you do!?! Why didn’t the potion work!?!”. that was enough to make you stand as well. you let out a breath while shaking your head in adornment. you put your hands on jinx’s shoulders and before she can continue on her tirade, you kiss her. it’s chaste and sweet. all you need to shut her up. jinx allows you to press your forehead against hers. the pink shade rising in her cheeks compliments her eyes in ways you can’t even describe. her heart swells while you assure her, “A potion can not create what is already there.”
**if you would like i can do a bullet point list of how i think jinx would be w a regular witch s/o not just specifically a love witch, because that was kind of what limited me**
#arcane#arcane jinx#arcane league of legends#arcane fanart#jinx fanart#jinx x reader#arcane x reader#jinx supremacy#arcanefanfic#jinx fanfic#jinxsource#jinxfanfic#jinxxreader#jinxarcane
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ACOTAR Book Review Pt.1
For my first post in my new book blog, I'd like to discuss the book that I was so passionate about I wrote 7 pages on it just for fun. A Court of Thorns and Roses.
Disclaimers: I did not like this book much. There is a difference between good and entertaining, while I found this book a little entertaining I did not think it was particularly good. These are just my opinions, feel free to disagree. This will be long
I'm going to break this up over multiple posts, this one will focus on general issues I had with choices in world-building/writing.
1.Point of View. This is something I noticed immediately that became a huge problem in her storytelling. Authors who write in 1st person pov tend to have a very specific reason for doing so, often to create an unreliable narrator so that their bias can be revealed later as impacting the plot. However, it is clear the author did not have a reason for choosing 1st person pov in this book, and a lot of the plot would fit better with 3rd person pov. The random thoughts such as the ones about paintings would have fit better if they weren’t portrayed as her thoughts in the moment, but as a narrator referencing previous themes. It also would have fit better for big reveals such as the one included, because a 3rd person narrator can comment more on how the other characters expressions and movements might hint towards information we don’t know yet. This is a common issue I find in YA.
2. The naming of the characters. Feyre is far too close of a word to Fey/fairies. I understand the pun but realistically the victims of generations of slavery would not name their child after the race of the enslavers. Also Amaranth-a. May not be general knowledge but amaranth is just a basic edible plant, if it were a poisonous plant it would at least be a nod towards her characterization. (Lucien also seems to be a play on Lucifer but I have not confirmed that)
3. The made up religion surrounding the Cauldron. She just replaced god in modern phrases with cauldron and called it a day. Biblical hell still exists in this book (pg 333“go to hell”, pg 235 “the world has gone to Hell”) and the description of the afterlife is eerily similar to Christian heaven.
4. Worldbuilding with creatures. The author created this world where faeries have to be separated from humans due to this treaty they created. Does this apply to all magical creatures, despite faeries being the slave-keepers? She continues to introduce more and more types of faeries, but they do not all follow the laws of the high fae and she doesn’t put much thought into how they work with the world overall. She then introduces this giant worm with teeth later, which is not a faerie and can be killed without the ash wood that only faeries can be killed with. Its introduction is so random and does not fit into this world she built at all. If it is not a faerie, it should also exist in the human realm, thus explaining why Feyre knew it could be killed with materials other than ash wood. Especially as Feyre compares it to normal worms upon figuring out that the mud is actually its waste.
5. The reveal of information. Quite frankly, the way she hinted towards the twist made it feel as though she decided after the main romance plot to add in an entire other plot, and then went back through the book and added a few sentences here and there to make it seem as though it was planned the whole time. Alis’s huge info dump over halfway through the book felt like a poor, unplanned way to put in the information she needed to make this plot work. If this was truly going to be the plan all along it should have happened MUCH sooner, and her getting into the mountain would have been drawn out much longer than being captured immediately. (I am linking an interview at the bottom because the author discusses the fact that she did not plan out the plot and just figured it out as she went. This was clear to me throughout the book and I looked up interviews in the first place to see if she had anything to say about it.)
TLDR: I thought the writing was a bit lazy and poorly planned (not planned at all)
https://blog.mugglenet.com/2015/05/author-interview-taking-court-with-sarah-j-maas/
#acotar#acotar series#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#book review#book club#bookworm#books#reading
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Yessss to everything you said!! Like it was the best book in the series, but I feel like maybe the focus on a certain kind of romance and the abundance of characters really led everything else to be sort of brushed aside or easily sorted out??
Struggling to put it into words but I think it boils down to cc having these cool concepts but just not delivering. One of the reasons the way Elias' death happened in choi was so pointless was because we didn't get to see Cordelia interact much with her father beforehand, it was just an oh no! he's dead! moment for her to feel sad about and cause conflict with James, when it could have really made Cordelia grapple with realisation that her father was not who she thought he was, and had her deal with that face to face. While handled a little better, the lack of mourning for Christopher really just exposes how his death was just there for the sake of it, and there was so much more that could have been explored, and emotions that could have been drawn out if she'd focused on the grief for him??
Other than mentioning that he has experience looking after drunk people because of his dad, and the little bit about not wanting to run away like his father, Alastair as far as I remember didn't really speak about his trauma and seems great by the end and,,, happy for him!! but would have liked to see his traumas talked about a little more and taken a little more seriously by the narrative tbh. Idk, as I write this I'm like maybe I'm being super picky with this one but I guess I will always want more Alastair content lol
Thomas' character is also just a giant example of cc underutilising what she's created, like you've presented this character and set up for him to be a little resentful of the one-dimensional way he's viewed as the kind one. That's so interesting!! Lean further into that and show that that's why he appreciates how Alastair used to speak his mind and stand up for himself at the academy, and use it to inform their relationship and Thomas' own personal growth! She tells us he's grown into himself more at the end but she doesn't fully explore it or show it. Would have liked to have seen more recognition of his talents with language as well but she literally seemed to gift his farsi skills to James lol
Also making everything about Charles' sexuality and having to come out felt really weird, as him wanting to stay in the closet is honestly the only thing I have sympathy for. And Ari and Charles being mentioned to be friends, we were robbed
And also can't believe no mentions of Thomas' tattoo throughout like it just seems a little weird considering there is some build up there of its emotional significance and link to Alastair?? Anyways chot was a good experience but there are just so many things cc seems to have forgot about, sorry for the rambles lol I really should just make my own post
I come across as so negative here lmao I genuinely really enjoyed the book
Managing that many characters, plus their individual relationships, is extremely difficult to pull of, and it's clear that CHOT fell short on many aspects. An easy way to fix the aftermath of Kit's death was just not to kill him! It was so unnecessary! Or at least spare us a few more paragraphs to grieve him properly, ffs.
On paper, I can see why his death (and Elias', as you said) would be impactful. But you can't just have something that big happen without building up to it and giving it a proper conclusion, which neither of them had! With the CHOI deaths specifically, it seemed obvious to be that CC wanted to kill some beloved characters but not any of the main ones. That's why she hit us in the head with the 'Italian Shadowhunter' thing; so we'd create a connection to her, but it didn't work! We barely knew Filomena, and Elias, and that lady who was nice to Thomas! It just doesn't work, and it was such a waste.
No, I totally agree! I don't remember any specific quotes, but it felt like every time Alastair mentioned his past, no one even acknowledged it. I don't expect a whole section where he goes to therapy or anything, but it'd would've been nice to hear Thomas say "you didn't deserve any of that, you're so strong but you shouldn't have had to be, you can rest now" instead of a thousandth Thomastair make out scene.
Thomas was so underutilized! Once again, I understand the whole book couldn't have been focused on him, but Matthew's reaction to him being in love with Alastair felt like such a cop out tbh. And an easy way to solve it would've been not to have Matthew be so bad to Alastair in the first place! He can still deflect his own guilt and hatred onto him, I know that's a part of his character (that was also brushed off), but maybe not treat him like the Devil himself. Thomas' annoyance with being 'the kind one' was completely forgotten, when it could've been one of the best arcs in the series.
Absolutely, yes! It's like CC forgot what her own character was like. Harassing and cornering Alastair? Disrespecting his boundaries? The fucking age gap? Charles' choice to stay closeted was the only thing I respected about him, and yet Clare's vendetta against closeted people continues. It's a pattern and it's not a great one.
And Thomas' tattoo, yeah! CC gave Thomastair way too many things (the tattoo, songwriting, Paris, farsi speaking, Alastair's hair, the list goes on) then realized she couldn't possibly fit it all in one book so she just abandoned most of it. Also, I really wish Thomas would've given Alastair one compliment throughout the book. His inner voice tells him to shut up when he's being cheesy, but I wish he would've let something slip and Alastair would've been glad because cheesy is exactly what he needs, okay! Someone read poetry to that boy!
KJfjskdfjsd I get you, I bitch a lot but it was legitimately the best book in the trilogy. Thank you for the ask!
#chot spoilers#chain of thorns spoilers#chain of thorns#chot#the last hours#tlh#thomastair#tlh critical#tw death
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Why I Think Toad Is So Obsessed With Speed - Long Post
This is a long post (and mostly a wall of text, sorry) about The Wind In The Willows, specifically the 2016/17 musical version since I haven't read the book in a very long time.
TL;DR in the tags
Using my new friend Medical News Today I have found an article via Google that was medically reviewed by someone with a PhD, so I'm kind of inclined to believe this is pretty accurate. It's littered with references too, as all good articles should be.
This article is about the definition and symptoms of an "adrenaline junkie" (also known as a "thrill-seeker" or a "daredevil") - I think Toad is addicted to the adrenaline and the feeling he gets the faster he goes. He's not just bad at driving because he doesn't bother to learn, he's bad at driving because he actively enjoys and is seeking out the danger to get another hit. To quote Ratty in 'Speed Is Of The Essence' -> "Speed is an addiction, and alas poor Toad is hooked." He really is hooked, it's plain to see through the show.
He goes from boat to boat, then to a horse-drawn cart (despite the horse's desire to not have a fast paced life, hence why she decided to pull barges instead), then to a motorcar and then finally (by the end of the show at least) to a jetpack. We see what happens with the motorcar through the show - Toad is obsessed with the thing. He says multiple times that he needs more speed (both in 'The Amazing Mr Toad' and in little moments through the show that I can't remember right now, but he says it at least twice) and even repeats the line "speed is the quintessence of what Toad is all about" from earlier in the show. He even stole some bloke's car when he couldn't have one of his own; he faked a heart attack (poorly, but he did it) which scared Mole so much that he ran off just for Toad to bounce back up again two seconds later without a care to go and steal a car.
Now, I could go on a whole other post about Toad's relationship and attitude towards Ratty, Mole, Badger, etc., but I won't right now. Maybe later, who knows. Just know that it's there.
Even when in jail, he didn't seem too bothered. Yes he was dramatic and over the top and yes he was devastated to be in prison, but he was doing it for the attention. It wasn't a subdued "oh I've done it this time" with how he took to the chains and the bars coming up, but rather a big show and dance and an "oh, woe is me, look how I've been wronged!" performance. Yes, most likely there for theatrical effect because it's a musical for all ages, but that's just it - Toad is theatrical. He annoys his escape route, but when she threatens to leave he goes quiet and apologises and then goes right back to being dramatic and happy-go-lucky. I do believe that was a genuine show of remorse to the Gaoler's Daughter, just like how he was when he realised the same guy was coming his way in the car and when he started singing 'The Finale', but as soon as he finds a way out he takes it and runs.
Sorry, I got a little off-track there, but here are the symptoms for when someone is getting dosed with epinephrine, which is the hormone your body produces when in the fight-or-flight response (which is a "reaction that occurs when a person senses or perceives they are in danger"):
increased heart rate
sweating
decreased feeling of pain
heightened awareness
sharpening of mental focus
increased strength
Now, I'm going to focus on these when they become relevant, because the first two that I notice the most is decreased pain and increased strength - have you noticed how many times Toad gets knocked off somewhere? Mole even says that he's been in hospital three times and that's just in the first two seasons that Mole knows him. He crashed the toff's car, then he was thrown off a moving train, then he fell into a canal (or wherever the barge was, I'm assuming a canal) which will not have been warm at all, and then he crashed the same car again! Even the tightening of the corset around him didn't wind him for long; probably set off his epinephrine again, idk.
Toad is usually a loud and brash and blustery fellow who has little regard for his or anyone else's safety, but one thing he isn't is a coward. I won't lie, I've tried to put that label on him because at first glance it suits him so well with how he tries to get his way out of the 20-year sentence, but he goes straight for the Chief Weasel when Portia is in danger - as usual, he fumbles at first, but he eventually gets the upper hand. He's a proud and ungrateful creature, as the Gaoler's Daughter said, but he's nothing if not creative; once given the chance (and really, his only escape option), he went head first into Being A Woman™. Being the first to fight against the Chief Weasel - "step away from that sir, step away I say!" - isn't just latent bravery: it's getting the sense of fear and the kick of adrenaline by being the Hero Of The Hour. He didn't even focus on being chased across six counties and causing thousands of pounds worth of damage, he just focused on having his Hall back.
Heightened awareness let's you pay more attention to details and analyse the things around you to greater length. Now, this isn't really shown by Toad in the show, apart from maybe how obsessed he is with his own motorcar and how he wants it to be perfect, but do you want to know who does keep note of everything? Ratty. That's more of an anxiety thing for him possibly, since he's exasperated with Toad for pretty much the entire show, but there is a moment at the end where Toad finally says out loud what he's recognised about himself - "sometimes I ask a lot, sometimes I lose the plot".
Again, sharpening of mental focus probably doesn't apply to Toad quite so much, but it does apply to Mole when he frightens the stoats that are guarding the door to Toad Hall - Mole is a cautious animal, despite the joy of the new adventures that he's finding through the show. We see it when he first finds the river and meets Ratty, literally jumping into his arms so as not to get wet. We see it when he tries to hide under his coat when learning about the Wild Woods. We especially see it when he goes into the Wild Woods itself to find Badger and gets ambushed by the Wild Wooders. Mole is easy to scare, and yet in the moment when he should be the most scared he uses Toad's discarded disguise to scare off the stoats who then go and tell the rest of the Wild Wooders.
Oh boy, sweating and increased heart rate. Well, with the adrenaline from the speed of the car (and the thrill of flying with the jetpack later on), then yes his heart rate will kick up. I can't really give sweating a proper thing here because being in a theatre production gets very hot under the stage lights and with the choreography and the amount of energy you need to play Toad's role (nowhere near as much as Elle Woods, but still a lot) then you'll be sweating anyway. In the filmed London production of WITW, you can visibly see the main cast are sweating, so this point is moot. However, generally with fear, sweating is aligned, e.g. 'woke in a cold sweat' symbolising a nightmare. Also, according to the Woodland Trust, toads virtually always have dry skin, so I'd say it would be very easy to tell if Toad was sweating.
Here's a direct quote from the article about the causes and psychology behind adrenaline junkies (the severe ones, the ones who are dependent):
"An adrenaline junkie enjoys seeking out activities and experiences that trigger the release of epinephrine. They may feel a compulsion to take part in these pursuits, which often drives them further.
When a person undergoes a stressful or intense experience, the amygdala releases the hormones norepinephrine and epinephrine. Bursts of norepinephrine can lead to extreme happiness or euphoria.
According to a 2009 study, norepinephrine could be a key factor in a person becoming dependent.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that this unconscious need for stimulation can affect the way a person’s everyday behaviour. An adrenaline junkie may therefore create drama in their life to trigger their body’s response to stress.
There are few studies on why people enjoy risk-taking activities. However, some research shows that personality type can play a role in a person becoming more of a risk-taker.
One 2013 study suggests risk-takers were more likely to have a personality that showed traits of low conscientiousness combined with high extraversion, high neuroticism, or both."
Mate. If this doesn't sum up Toad, idk what does!
Extreme happiness or euphoria?? We see that all the time! He's ecstatic to have his home back, he's a puddle of joy when he finally gets back into a motorcar, barely anything phases him even when Ratty is tearing into him about their past friendship. Of course Toad creates drama, did you see the 'As If In A Dream' sequence? 'The Amazing Mr Toad' was pretty dramatic too, he had an entire performance and wasn't bothered by the hedgehogs at all - he didn't hear them over his joy of getting (what I assume to be) a fake award that was just for show, most likely. According to that 2013 study, Toad definitely has the traits of a risk-taker, at least in my opinion.
Now, in all of this, I'm not talking about substance abuse. This isn't someone administering adrenaline to Toad, but rather about him seeking out thrills to get the feeling of adrenaline and the euphoria that comes with it. This is all natural. At least, in a human sense, and since I'm mostly focusing on the more humanised musical version of WITW, this makes sense. As for the original animals they are based off, I have no idea, I'm not an animal expert.
As with any addiction, there are withdrawal symptoms:
cravings to do the thing he wants to do
(as previously mentioned, he fakes a heart attack just to steal a car so he doesn't have to stay cooped up without a car)
less interest in other activities besides what he wants to do
(the entire show is about Toad chasing speed, even yelling at the train driver to shovel in more coal to make the train go faster, and he gets bored of things very easily)
negative emotions, such as frustration, agitation, and restlessness
(again, see the faking a heart attack scene; he's restless and runs Ratty and Mole around, even Badger to some extent, and gets very easily frustrated [such as when the guard was making a joke at his expense])
"A 2017 study states that individuals suffering from a compulsion to specific actions can reduce tension, stress, or anxiety by carrying them out."
I refer you to the moment when he's back in the toff's car after he's been thrown off the barge: he jumps up and down, requests to get in and then gives it a hug. Here's a picture.
See the smile? All tension and stress at being found out? Gone.
He's in his element, he's back where he feels he belongs. It's euphoric.
This article says that there is no inherent risk involved with leading an "exciting life" but it also says that if things get dangerous and out of hand then one should seek medical attention. These things include:
putting their health and well-being in danger
(been in hospital at least 3 times, crashed at least 3 times over the course of the show, got thrown off a moving train and fell off a barge into (very most likely) freezing cold water)
causing distress
(see Ratty, Mole and Badger through the show, and also that poor man who's car he stole twice)
causing the person not to fulfil their work, home, or other responsibilities
(Toad? Responsible? As if!)
Also, remember the line "then he staggered, and he stumbled, and he fell on one knee"? Well, in the article following this main one, one of the changes to the body during an adrenaline rush is "redirecting blood toward the muscles, causing a surge in energy or shaking limbs". Staggering and stumbling? Well, the guy's just fallen from a barge into cold water and is still in shock from it, makes sense that he'd be all over the place.
Getting a jetpack is the next big thing because he's finally grown weary of motorcars. Finally. Once again, in 'Speed Is Of The Essence' Mrs Otter and Ratty tell both Mole and the audience that "[Toad's] tastes are rather fickle." Toad is showing off by flying around and arriving to his party in a jetpack...and so the cycle starts all over again!
For now, that's all I have to say on Toad. I want to hear what other people think! Even if this gets nowhere I'll have still written it down. Maybe I'll do more deep diving on the other characters soon.
#long post#long reads#wel rambles#witw#witw 2017#the wind in the willows#toad introspection#toad#mr toad#toad of toad hall#speed is of the essence#character study#addiction#adrenaline addiction#discussion of symptoms#i think toad's addicted to the adrenaline he gets from highspeed cars#this man is obsessed with speed and i needed to ramble about it#he shows both the symptoms of having it and the withdrawal symptoms in the show#speed is an addiction and alas poor toad is hooked is such a good line. the way simon lipkin sang alas? *mm* beautiful#i highly recommend this soundtrack. seriously it's so good. listen to it pls
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Spoiler-FULL Reactions to RWBY Arrowfell~
The thrilling sequel to this post. Most of my emotional investment has already faded by now (as is usually the case with RWBY media...) but, since I said I was gonna do this and I already made notes, why not?
Environments and NPCS
-Not much to see in this game...the environments look cute in isolation, but as a gameplay element they’re just too simple (and repetitive...) to be immersive. Especially in Mantle and Atlas-- random stacks of ‘techno-blocks’ are not a real setting and they don’t feel like one. :/
-I just wish it could’ve had a stronger atmosphere...the main show already tends to ruin the little atmosphere it does create with baffling character placement and lackluster/absent color grading (seriously, the BG artists deserve better). And unfortunately it seems like the game just...copied that...
-The new NPCs were cute. A little silly, but cute; much more interesting and better for worldbuilding than the background characters in the show.
And of course the NPCs based on existing characters (Penny, Qrow, Pietro) were nice too. Even the Ace-Ops were kinda fun (Vine Zeki gained a personality trait! o_O)
-I liked how the quests tended to interweave together, like you’d complete one quest and get an item required to complete another quest as a reward-- which incentivizes you to talk to more people if you’re having trouble finding something on your own. It’s smart gameplay design like that that made me rate the game a C+; despite its simplicity you can tell it was made by professionals.
Enemies and Boss Fights
-Yeah, the clone-enemies in the Atlas/Mantle portions are pretty embarrassing, but I think the selection of Grimm was nice. They all had different strengths and weaknesses and attack patterns for you to learn to deal with; you certainly can’t say they were lazily implemented.
Even the clone-enemies at least invited unique strategies...I know for a fact that redheaded “BANG BANG BANG~” girl was specifically designed to be a rage-quit obstacle, and I love that for her. ^^
-The boss fights were pretty good too; nice selection of attack patterns and usage of space (especially for BRIR).
Bram Thornmane wasn’t much of a final boss, all things considered, but at least he had something creative going on with the arrow patterns; there’s a little element of challenge there. Nothing super fun for any sort of mature gamer (even a casual one like myself), but I can see that being engaging for, like, a 5th grader. ^^; I guess.
-BTW: a lot of people in the comments of the release trailer remarked that the combat looks EXTREMELY lackluster for a RWBY game, like a ‘step down from Grimm Eclipse’...and although I do think Arrowfell does an okay job of being the type of game that it is, I also kinda have to agree with those people.^^; I’ve found more action-packed platformers browsing for Flash games in 2008...
Even just more expressive FX animation could have helped (a combo mechanic would’ve worked WONDERS); the act of fighting feels more like a means to an end than something the devs really want you to focus on and enjoy.
It’s been said many times that RWBY no longer remembers why most of its fans were originally drawn to it-- unique, creative fight scenes that told stories about their characters through high-intensity action-- and that’s on full display here.
And on that note: if you just want to make a cheap RWBY game, a sidescrolling brawler against hordes of Grimm sprites, or even a simple PVP (put that bloated character roster to good use...) would be a much better fit for the franchise than even a REALLY GOOD version of Arrowfell. :T Just sayin’.
Plot and Characters
-The moment we’ve all been waiting for~ ^^ *cracks knuckles*
-In brief: the plot sucks and the plot-relevant characters also suck. :/ WayForward at least did a good job building the game despite clearly not caring; as usual RT did not care about the writing AND did not do a good job.
I went into it expecting the plot to be EVEN LESS interesting than those of the show, and I was STILL disappointed...
-Small things first: the repeated “I guess we’re doing this now” apathetic sarcasm from Team RWBY during the cutscenes was kind of...irritating, actually. Especially after we had to watch RWB sit around watching the plot go by for half of Volume 8...it’s bad enough when the audience starts to feel like the protagonists have no real investment in the plot (which has been a thing since V5...); it’s a whole new level of bad when the protagonists themselves all but admit it right to our faces.
We’re supposed to assume that team RWBY is still here because ‘it’s the right thing to do’; they ‘don’t [want to] let anyone else die’...but more and more of their chances to actually portray that type of righteous character onscreen keep getting replaced by quirky, disinterested snark or pointless one-liners. And I don’t think RT realizes that if that’s all we’re getting...then the result is a story about characters who have no reason to be in it and don’t even want to. :/
-Re: Fifestone-- I’ve already said much more than I planned to say about him (through responding to those asks, if you remember ^^;) but my original note was as follows: in this day and age when workers’ rights are finally making a long-overdue comeback in the public consciousness, and ESPECIALLY considering the way RT treats its own employees, deciding you need an unnecessarily evil union leader in your fictional story is disgusting, vile and morally reprehensible.
I used to think RT’s leadership was just ‘childish-bad’...y’know, selfishness and an unwillingness to compromise or improve making life hell for everyone else. But something like this feels more like ‘evil-bad’-- i.e. deciding that the hell you’re putting other people through is necessary, enough to justify and actively maintain through propaganda/manipulation. I’d...really hate to see RT go down that road. :[
-Let’s end on a lighter note by talking about Bram Thornmane: probably the most pathetic antagonist in the entire franchise. ^^;;;
When I heard him admit that he seriously did ALL that just because he wanted to join the Ace-Ops (THE ACE OPS??? THE ACE OPS?!?!!!! o_O) I literally sat at my desk at work and laughed out loud, for like 5 minutes. ^^;
Seriously, though, it’s SO bad...I thought things couldn’t get any worse than Adam ‘my girlfriend left me’ Taurus, but here we are. And at least Adam looked cool (and his character assassination was absolutely hilarious; 50% of the reason I love him is because I spent Volumes 4 through 6 laughing at him constantly XD).
Thornmane, on the other hand, is a nothing character. No cool design, no interesting personality traits, no noteworthy connections to any substantial characters. I don’t even know what his semblance is (he mentions it during his boss fight, so I assume it’s in the game somewhere...does anyone know??).
So yeah, “I’m gonna steal unique technology and kill thousands of people to maybe hopefully make Ironwood look bad because he wouldn’t let me in the special club” is just the icing on the nothing-cake. Even a basic “I wanna take over the world” motivation would be better; it would at least make his actions feel justified...as it is, he just chose the most effortful, overly-convoluted way possible to express his anger over getting passed up for a team of huntsmen SO elite and SO special and perfect that they got washed by four newbie huntresses in 5 minutes. T_T Wowza. Now there’s an experience worth spending 30 bucks and 4 hours of your time...
-Easy Thornmane fix: Actually USE Arrowfell. They mentioned that Arrowfell was like an abandoned laboratory full of never-before-seen technology too dangerous to release to the world...USE that. If Thornmane wants to make Ironwood look bad, let him start handing this stuff out like candy to any thug on the street, and get people speculating about why such terrible weapons were even being made, and demanding that the General take responsibility (insert retroactive foreshadowing for his turn to the dark side in V8 here).
Let him convince BRIR, the ‘guardians of Arrowfell’ (whatever that means) that this technology needs to be shared with the public to sort of ‘even the playing field’, let the people take back power from the tyrannical Atlas elites (insert morally-gray actually class-conscious Fifestone character here).
Let him hoard some of the more frightening weapons for himself, and try to overthrow Ironwood (insert actually necessary Lt. Harper character here) and assume leadership of the Atlas military, to put himself in the position of power he always wanted.
THIS STUFF IS NOT HARD GUYS; I came up with that in like 10 minutes! >_< And if I spent the amount of time you should spend on something you expect your fans to pay actual money for, I could do a lot better...
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