#AFTER they made each other realise how unhealthy their life style was

[ruenii]

my favourite binggeyuan dynamic is when post PIDW binghe is so fucking depressed but slowly gains a little bit more light the more time he spends with shen yuan in the modern world. Cue in clingy, soft spoken, but still feral Bingge with a sprinkle of abandonment issues.

and here comes shen yuan, the 1# comphet, who still has a kind but annoying heart, stubborn yet gentle, and so very very excited that he gets the protagonist as his roommate!!

he'll come to find binghe's flaws and make the former demon emperor get some much needed therapy and give him some much needed COMPLETELY PLATONIC affection!!

[grvnge-archive]

This time 10 years ago I had just turned 17, and I began travelling by train for my studies. I'd be travelling about 6 hours a day, with 5-8 hours spent at university. I'd get up at 5am, throw on whatever I thought was appropriate for uni (but reverted back to my regular grungy style once I realised no one cared how they dressed for uni), put on some dark eyeliner, my Impulse Into Glamour body spray and black boots, and was out the door with my heavy backpack (full of books and my laptop) at 5:45am for a 9am start after taking 3 buses and 1 train. I'd put on this playlist while I, sadly, sank into my depression for the 3 hour commutes each way. Honestly, it's incredibly unhealthy for a 17 year old to be stuck with nothing but their own depressed thoughts for 6 hours a day on about 5-6 hours sleep, and not much food (i couldnt stomach most of my smoothie in the morning and didnt have room for more than snacks in my bag). I somehow got through it, and these songs on my March 2014 playlist (which was really from late Feb to April until I was able to move closer to university) always take me back to that most daunting time of my life where I was thrown into adulthood, being the youngest at university, all while struggling so hard with my mental health. Some of these songs definitely made me sink even further into how I felt, but others gave me a numbing sort of pretend-carefree, a pretend-happiness.

[introvert--weeb]

Hello, can I request angst where kokonoi sees reader as akane since she looks like her and acts like her sometimes and reader is tired of it so she ultimately decides to leave him since staying would only hurt her more.

You're breaking my heart anon! As I am keeping it a X reader scenario, I won't be making her look like Akane in an identical way but maybe as more of how her innocence and general aura is exactly like hers and that's what drew him in.

But thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

Kokonoi X f!reader (angst)

TW: mentions of manga spoilers, heartbreak, obsession (mild), unhealthy relationship traits

--

Kokonoi had experienced the worst heartbreak anyone could. His beloved Akane, the woman who had promised to wait for him to get older, had died and he was unable to save her. He had accidentally saved his best friend, something that secretly haunted him constantly.

So when he had seen you with your pretty features and eyes that held so much innocence, he had thought Akane had come back to him finally. That is what first got him to approach you. It was as your conversation continued that Koko began to realise that you were as loving and caring as Akane was.

He was convinced that a higher power had simply remodelled Akane's looks and placed her back into his life. Maybe it was fate that made it so he could finally be with her again.

You fell for the delinquent, his charms and many compliments had you hooked. He was everything you thought you wanted in a boyfriend. And so, in no time at all, you and Kokonoi had gone from strangers to in a relationship.

It all started off so well. You had been introduced to Inui (or Inupi as Koko referred to him) and had quickly built a solid friendship with the blond. Everything seemed to be perfect in your eyes as you were treated like a queen. Koko would splash money on gifts for you like it was going out of fashion which you did appreciate but kept telling him to cool it down. You didn't need all those gifts as long as he loved you.

You just didn't notice all the warning signs. You had missed how he would suggest you wear outfits that he would often see Akane wear; how he would bring up library dates you don't remember going on only to have him brush it off as you not remembering. Even Inui noticed how his friend would talk about you as if you were his lost sister.

Inui had tried to warn you, telling you about how it was unhealthy for your relationship that he couldn't let go of Akane. That he only saw Akane when he looked at you instead of loving you for everything that made you, you.

You simply shrugged the comments off, insisting that Kokonoi loved you for you and that he had gotten over his obsession with the dead girl. However, you could not get rid of the voice at the back of your mind that knew it was true.

After the talk with Inui, you had picked up on all the signs you were previously blissfully ignorant to. It made you question whether you hadn't noticed them or purposefully ignored them so you could stay with the boy you loved with all your heart. The way he would brush your hair into the style you had seen from photos of Akane; the mentions of dates you couldn't remember going on because you didn't; the way he would tell you he was thankful you had waited for him. You noticed it all now and it was breaking your heart.

The last straw had come when he had accidentally called you Akane while you were cuddling in his room. How Kokonoi had said it with such love and care that it had finally clicked. He never loved you. He loved how you resembled Akane.

You would never be good enough for him. And it was proving impossible to not let the tears roll silently down your cheeks. In your mind, there was a battle happening. A war which would only leave one option left for you to take. One side wanted you to remain ignorant. Ignore how he will never truly see you and you get to stay by your lover's side. You would get to be with him which is what you so desperately wanted.

The other side though was telling you to break it off now, to save yourself from a future of being compared to someone you could never hope to reach. Akane was the standard that Kokonoi wanted you to be at but it was impossible. You could never become her and you don't think you wanted to.

"Koko... We need to end this." Your voice was cold, emotionless as the tears continued to roll down your cheeks. Each word broke you heart as they left your mouth. It looked like rationality won this war, your heart taking a backseat for now.

Kokonoi didn't understand. You were made for each other. How could you possibly want to leave him when he loved you with all his heart? But was it you he loved, that he didn't want to acknowledge. Akane had been brought back into his life in the shape of you and now she was threatening to leave again.

"You can't leave me again, Akane!" There was that wretched name again! Anger was quick to bubble up within your chest as you stood to glare at the boy you loved. It was all her fault that you couldn't have a happily ever after with the one you loved so dearly! Why did she have to capture his heart and mind back then!

"I'm not Akane, Kokonoi! I never fucking was! Why can't you see that?!" Sobs broke up your words as angry tears flowed freely down your face. Your heart was breaking into tiny pieces as you realised he still saw Akane even after you told him you weren't her.

"I'm done Kokonoi. I hope you have a good life." And with that, you grabbed your bag and left his house.

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

--

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

[bunchofstraydogs]

Dazai Osamu in a relationship

Just a lil warning before you proceed: dis a chonky one, kay?

○

Depending on why Dazai is in a relationship affects how he will act with his partner.

If Dazai is curious about them, enough to enter the relationship,

it will last at best a handful of months, at worst about 2 weeks. Enough to get to know them, test them out in terms of reaction, values, honesty and morality, and get bored of them. Thus leading to him braking up with the person or, if he predicts that the person would react badly and cause a scene, get them to break up with him. But even that is dubious because i doubt Dazai would make the relationship official. He would probably just act as if they're dating, leading the partner to believe they actually are without having to verbally confirm anything, and then as soon as he loses interest, pulls a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't and disappears with little to no notice. Hey, he never said they were dating, he calls everyone Belladona, the fault is that person's for being delusional. Yes, he is an asshole, what did you expect of Dazai?

But if Dazai is in love?? Unrecognizable.

I will make a separate headcanon(? whatever these are I'm writing) on what i think a person should be like to sweep Dazai of his feet, but now i want to concentrate on what he would be like in such a relationship.

Is it possible for Dazai to fall in love? Absolutely. He loved Odasaku and Ango, perhaps not romantically, but he's definitely capable of love. People like him- aware of the world's cruelty, dealing with demons and guilt, roaming the world for the sole reason that they haven't died yet, hoping to find something worthwhile they can feel the need to be selfish about and call theirs; don't fall in love, they crash desperately. It takes a lot for them to feel those emotions, but when they do, they can never really let them go.

He would try to act as he usually does in public and try approaching the subject of his trepidation and disarray in many different ways. Distancing himself and going as far to actively avoid them would just come back and bite him in his boney ass. To effectively avoid someone, you need to know their schedule, hobbies, interests, habits, etc. And having learned that would just constantly remind him of them, they'd never leave his mind. He'd look on the clock, see the time and know that they'll be in that specific class because he knows their whole curriculum and class schedule/ at the grocery because they're surly out of their favourite snack/ doing black laundry and yes, he knows unnecessary details about them as well. After that disastrous failure, he comes back running and commences new ways to handle that person. These beta testings are for him as much as they are for them. Just how much and what exactly does he feel for that person, what buttons can he push and which ones he doesn't want to.

When i say Dazai in love would be unrecognizable, i mean it. Not superficially, where everyone can see it, but where it matters.

After doing his best to rail in the unfamiliar feelings under control, going as far as using some of Mori's techniques, the realization of the situation he's found himself in hits him hard.

He comes back as if nothing happened.

The deadpan that person gives him and a "Are you done with your bullshit or do you need some more time to brood about issues you made with yourself?" He doesn't even blink, "Oh, my Belladona! Does that mean you've missed me? Were you worried about me as well??"

All of this was said in your typical, Dazai maniac style, the only difference is that he actually wants an answer. He wants to hear the confirmation, in whatever form it may come- he can read between the lines and body language, just give him something to work with. He's desperate.

While the public Dazai persona won't change, his inner musings and his approach to the love interest will.

Osamu will, sometimes sneakily, usually not so subtly, immerse himself into their daily life. Get them accustomed and used to his presence. What this will do is cause a sense of familiar coexistence, that of people living together; make the person unconsciously continue to include him in their activities; learn to depend on him (not in a unhealthy, yandere way, but if their car brakes down or they're feelinh unsafe, Dazai will be the first person they feel the urge to call) because Dazai can be reliable and he will be reliable for that special person. He will also be the first person they share good news with as well, because if someone is always there for and with you, it's only natural.

Make no mistakes, Dazai is transparent only when he wants to be.

The reasons he does this is because 1) he wants to gauge their reaction to his great interest in them, 2) mask his subtle advances which are the most important part of integrating himself into their life, 3) to get that person in the position where he needs them to be for him to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Now, i may have said plan, but that's a somewhat loose term since what he'll do next depends on their reaction. He definitely has a rough outline of the whole thing in his head, but he's also adaptable and ready to react accordingly to whatever they may throw his way.

[I will be using l/i or LI for "love interest" bc I'm tired of writing that person or whatever, okay? Good.]

Once his l/i made effort to go out of their way for him or commit any type of love language, basically:

act of service- pay for his bills, massage his shoulders, buy crab based food or alchohol he really likes for their own fridge so that he can have it when he's over (often) even if they don't like those things especially then

words of affirmation- thank you Dazai, how was your sleep?, please take better care of yourself i can't help you if you're not making an effort

physical touch- ruffle his hair, lean on him when tired, hold his hand or wrist because it's crowded and it would be a pain to search for you Dazai

gift giving- "I noticed you were running out of bandages", "I bought you food, figured your lost case would forget to eat", "saw this mackerel, reminded me of you^^" "BELLADONA, NO >:("

quality time- spending nights with him because he has insomnia, playing games at the arcade, drive around town run from the cops

He would be overwhelmed. In the best way possible. He'd feel overwhelmingly good and pleasant and warm and worried.

He didn't feel like this, ever.

Not even with Odasaku and Ango. They were probably his first friends, but that's the thing. They didn't make his heart race, they didn't throw him into panic attacks, they didn't overwhelm him, they didn't keep him up at night because he couldn't get them out of his head or completely monopolise his mind during the day.

He gets panic attacks.

A lot of them, actually. Usually he can fake being fine, but sometimes he hyperventilates and can't breathe and all that he can smell is the blood on his hands and his chest is as hollow as l/i's eyes. He knows what can happen. They can and will be used against him. Hell, it could even be an accident. He is vulnerable just because they exist and he can't do shit about it.

He could do his thing: pull some strings, have them move to another country and never speak to each other ever again. He has the power, but he lacks the strength. He could do it, but he doesn't want to. His thumb won't press the numbers, his voice died out, his mind went blank.

The wind blows and it carries their scent with it. The bells ring and it's their laughter that resonates within. His bandages ruffle and it's the warmth of their touch he feels. He's dying, but he's not just ready yet to leave. Hopefully, Odasaku will patiently keep a seat for him.

That was what gave him away, actually.

That's when Ranpo realised, with zero doubt, that Dazai Osamu is in love.

Dazai could be going on and on about suicide.

Enter l/i.

"I found an amazing tree yesterday with really sturdy branches. I wanted to test them out today, but i promised l/i I'd go to the new bakery with them today and who would they go with if i die?? Unacceptable!"

Ranpo: "A new bakery? I'll happily take your place."

"UNACCEPTABLE!!"

With every panic attack he feels stranded on an island in the sea of death.

He's exhausted. For the first time he finally wants to escape alive. Then they walk in and the storm in the sea moves to his heart. And into his stomach and his hands and his knees.

"I'm here for you, Osamu. Everything is going to be fine."

His insomnia goes by a different name now.

It still keeps him up at night and makes him restless.

But this time, when he fills his nth glass of whiskey for the night, when the TV is muted and the trafic quiet, when he can hear their breathing beside him in their shared bed, he raises the glass to hope for the halcyon days.

●

Fucking finally. You think you're exhausted, you waste of bandages?? I have a final today I'm going to fail and actually wrote about your musky ass. You try doing that with my brain.

Hope you guys like it and if you made it this far, here's a cup of ☕ or 🍵, whichever you prefer. I wrote him as i see and envision him. Hope it all makes sense. He's a complicated character, but he is still human and he is not immune to emotions.

Have a good one~☆

I will probably come up with more things for him, because i doubt i covered everything, but for now this shall do.

[lovelypeasantjellyfish]

The way I love you now and the way that I loved you then - I’d tell you, “I thought I loved you too”

A/N: The last part! I really enjoyed writing in this style, just hashing out paragraphs as they came to mind, even if piecing them into something comprehensible was a real bitch. Playing with the tenses and structure of each part was really fun as well. I hope you enjoyed!

Series title is from Now and then by Lily Kershaw. Chapter title is from j’s lullaby (darlin’ I’d wait for you) by Delaney Bailey. One of the lines “My hardworking love, I need you to help me stay this way” is from 소리 (sound) by Big Mama

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Warnings/tags: Unhealthy relationship, freeform, just general angst.

Words: 628   AO3 Link   Part 1   Part 2

Once upon a time, while the rest of the world was busy celebrating the Earth’s journey around the sun, Wilhelmina Venable met you on the roof. The moment she saw you, colours exploded in the sky, but she heard nothing.

It was a quietness that the books she used to read talked about, a sense of calm that washed over her, one that she used to search for.

You had smiled at her and offered her a seat next to you, “Couldn’t leave a pretty lady like you standing, could I?” you said.

It was a corny line, but it made her heart flutter all the same.

And that was the start of a fine romance.

For a while, it was enough, it was fine, things were good, you hung stars in her sky, and she calmed the shaky ground you walked on. When you held her hand for the first time, Wilhelmina could have sworn she saw sparks fly and the world around her grow clearer. With your arms around her, you could have asked for the sun and she would have given it to you.

So then, how did things turn into this?

One person closing back up, trying to drown out the noise in darkness while the other dodged earthquakes. Both refusing to leave, one out of fear, the other out of desperation, two people holding hands in a crumbling house.

How will this story end?

If your efforts paid off, and she fell back in love with you, would she one day tell you the fears that once plagued her heart? Would she hold your face in her hands and whisper quietly to you, “My hardworking love, I need you to help me stay this way.”

Perhaps, if you gave each other some more time, you could look back at the earthquakes, the stars falling from the sky, and say, “I love you.” And trees would sprout from within the cracks in the ground, and the clouds would collapse and burn brightly in the sky instead of raining on the both of you.

Maybe if you continued to drift apart, she would miss you, and you would miss her, and everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be: waking up with you in her arms, her head in your lap as you told her how much you loved her, washing the dishes while she dried them, picking out each other's outfits for a date.

Or, you wouldn’t miss her, and her you, finally realising that trying to love each other the way the both of you did meant that love had already gone away.

Would there be a ‘goodbye’? A satisfying ending where you both said “I thought I loved you too” and the truth comes out? Or would the both of you simply continue to fade from each other’s life until all that was left were bitter yet wistful memories and what-ifs?

And if someone asked, Wilhelmina wouldn’t even answer the question, she would be glaring and barking at them to get lost. You would shrug and say, “It didn’t work between us, that’s all.” And it would be the truth, wouldn’t it? The both of you wanted different things, yet kept grasping and reaching that you wound up holding hands.

Even after all that, would she look at her phone during her lunch break waiting for the screen to light up with your call? Would you find yourself walking down her street every Friday only to realise that her door would never open for you again?

But for now, this, this limbo between what could be and everything that has been, all that was and all that must be, both of you are lost, unsure of what is wanted.

[maatryoshkaa]

merry christmas, kiss my a** | lee minho [teaser]

✒︎ in which both you and minho get dumped by your partners on christmas eve, run into each other on christmas day, and begin to find yourselves grudgingly confronting all the reasons that made you enemies in the first place.

ryu says: i can explain the title—i wrote out the plot while listening to “merry christmas, kiss my ass” by all time low 🤡

genre: enemies to lovers, college!au, holiday!au, fluff, drama, romcom, all that good stuff--and a pinch of angst if you move your bang to read it again. 

tags/warnings: fratboy!minho is your typical playboy asshole, perfect student!reader is all business and no-nonsense, mild profanity, mentions of drugs/marijuana/alcohol and addiction, unsafe frat parties (never let go of your drinks, guys), slightly (?) suggestive, but more chaotic than anything, some unhealthy relationships, reader and minho have bad blood, a long history paved with misunderstandings, and lots of unpacking to do.

length of excerpt: 1.6k

With the remnants of a ruthless migraine still wrenching your skull, you pried your eyes open. A weak groan left your dry lips, muffled by a mouthful of fabric. As you came to—brain feeling like jelly sloshing around in your head—you realised you were lying nearly face-down on a queen-sized bed, white comforters tangled around your very sore body. Bright sunlight was filtering in from a window somewhere, and you vaguely registered a green velvet couch sitting in the corner. Frowning, you tried to roll onto your side—and came face-to-face with the yellow eyes of a ginger cat.

You didn’t own a cat. Or a green couch, for that matter. Blinking in confused unison with the feline, you looked around the room—just as the bathroom door swung open, and a very naked Minho stepped out from the wisps of steam.

You screamed, scrambling back on the bed, and grabbed for the first solid object your hands could find—a rusted candelabra on the nightstand. Brandishing it at Minho in horror, you stammered, “Did I—did you—did we—”

Minho looked just as bewildered as you, one hand shooting up as if in surrender. With a yowl, the ginger cat leapt onto the green couch, but neither of you spared it a glance. Minho’s other hand, you realised, was gripping the towel wrapped around his waist as if his life depended on it. Okay, so he wasn’t naked—thank heavens—but that did nothing to stop the sour panic steadily rising in your throat. His gesture sent a vague memory rippling through your muddled mind. That’s right. Last night—the Christmas party at Changbin’s fraternity. You had bumped into Minho, just your rotten luck—the boy you’d despised since high school, and under the mistletoe, to boot. Your mind flashed back to how you’d furiously chugged the drink a frat boy had handed you to fill in the awkwardness, and had desperately tried to eject yourself from the conversation.

Then police sirens had sounded throughout the frat house, students scrambling like cockroaches and hurriedly hiding their marijuana—and that was the last thing you remembered before you had blacked out entirely.

You turned back towards Minho, one hand clamped over your eyes and the other around the candelabra. Two more cats had slinked out from under the bed—a tabby, and another ginger—and were joining the first one in watching the commotion. You put two and two together, voice growing shrill. “Did you—drug my drink, Lee Minho?”

He sputtered, and you could almost imagine his eyes bugging out. “Did I—” he raked a hand through his wet hair, composing himself. “I thought you took something—you were out cold the second you finished your drink.”

Fragments of the night before were slowly returning to you, and with increasing dread you recalled the solo cup you had taken without looking twice, the frat boy who had winked at you with a greasy smile.

“I think you got roofied, princess,” came Minho’s voice, surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t call me princess,” you snapped back automatically, but grudgingly lowered the candelabra. Cautious, you peered through your fingers, and immediately regretted it when you were met with Minho’s shit-eating smirk agaain.

“Not gonna lie, it took me by surprise. Since when did you become a party girl, showing up to Changbin’s parties?” He reached back into the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair with a smaller towel. “Here I was, thinking you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, well, you clearly haven’t,” you shot back coldly, counting off your fingers with a biting laugh. “Treating people like your personal toys or stepping stones. Messing around with multiple girls a night. Drinking like there’s no tomorrow.” 

If your words stung Minho, he certainly didn’t show it—only raising his eyebrows in that way that had infuriated you for as long as you’d known. The typical Lee Minho look of nonchalant contempt, spiked with a shot of amusement to give the impression that he didn’t give a single damn. You hadn’t run into him since—well, since that incident back in high school, and the memories his mere expressions could still rouse made your skin crawl.

Minho watched you curiously—sheets still wrapped around you like makeshift battle armour, your hand wielding the candelabra he’d thrifted from a garage sale, Rapunzel-style—and he had to fight the genuine smile tugging at his sneer. His chest felt...funny, fluttery, even, and not in the gut-wrenching, hangover way he had grown so used to. He almost wished it was, because this new feeling made it seem as though the ground had suddenly been ripped out from under his feet, and that terrified him.

The party. Some snitch had called the cops on them, and that had promptly shut the party down. The flood of panicked students evacuating had shoved Minho flush against the wall, and you flush against his chest. When he hadn’t felt you shoving him away immediately, Minho had almost felt his heart swell with a strange, terrifying shred of hope—until, upon closer look, he had noticed that your entire body had gone limp, glass empty and eyes fluttering shut. 

Panicking, Minho had carried you out of the house, clawing out of the sea of elbows and overheated limbs until he had reached the main road. Mind racing, he had fished his phone from his pocket and called the only mutual acquaintance the two of you had—your boyfriend.

But when Minho had explained what had happened—hey, uh, your girlfriend’s out cold at Changbin’s party, so you might want to come pick her up—Taehyun had scoffed, a harsh bark of laughter that had made Minho’s ears hurt. 

“Yeah? The hell’s it to me? That bitch’s your problem now.”

Before Minho could choke out a surprised reply, Taehyun had hung up. 

Trouble in paradise? He had thought to himself amusedly, before remembering his own situation. Then, the fact that he had no idea where you lived, and he couldn’t very well leave you, unconscious, out on the street. In the end, he had brought you to his last resort—his apartment. 

Carefully stepping over the trail of shattered ornaments his ex-girlfriend had left behind during their fight, Minho had lowered you onto the couch—then, with a second thought and a deep sigh, he’d lifted you onto the bed, tucking the white comforter over your slack body. Sipping a hangover concoction, he’d stood over your sleeping figure contemplatively, a mix of bemusement and worry churning in his gut, before deciding he was probably being mildly creepy and collapsing for the night on the velvet couch. 

“Look,” Minho began, shaking his head as though clearing his thoughts and turning his attention back on you, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but I—we—didn’t—do anything. You were out cold last night.”

Hands shaking, you peeled back the covers—and the smallest sigh of relief left your tightened chest when you saw that you were still wearing the same jeans and top as last night—albeit creased, stained, and reeking of marijuana and booze, but completely intact. The next moment, though, a wave of anxiety washed over you and you clutched the sheets closer, fingers trembling. Someone had still slipped something into your drink at that party. And if the party hadn’t come to a screeching halt—no, you realised, with an inward groan of frustration, if your sworn enemy hadn’t been there, there was no telling how much worse things could have gone. 

The thought made you shudder, panicked tears pricking at your sore eyes. Damn it ll. Here you were, sitting in Lee Minho’s bed, of all people—about to cry in front of him while he watched. Your humiliation—a belated Christmas present for him, no doubt. 

But when you glanced at his face, you were startled at the expression on his face. It was unfamiliar—not exactly condescending, or vicious, or even mildly smug. His lips—rosy from the hot shower—were pressed together slightly, eyebrows almost knitting together in a frown. 

Maybe he was holding back laughter?

Minho’s eyes had caught the way your lips had begun to tremble as you curled in on yourself, and had instinctively moved forward before freezing. What could he do? Give you a hug? He was sure he would end up with a candlestick in his eye if he tried. Comfort you? The words seemed to dissolve to sand on his tongue. He cursed himself silently. Words and actions came so easily with all the other girls—endless sweet talk and flirting, until he had them wrapped around his finger. With you—even after all these years—he was left frozen, mind blank, and only that damned feeling in his chest.

“She’s not yours,” came Changbin’s voice from the previous night, ringing in his ears.

“I know,” he had replied. But why did acknowledging it feel like ripping a Band-Aid off of a nearly-healed wound? Like he had reopened the scar, along with all its pain once again? 

Maybe it was because after all these years, Minho still clung onto the hope that you would hear him out, just once.

Gesturing helplessly, he found himself offering the only sort of comfort he seemed to know how to. “Do you want—uh...some wine? The fridge’s empty, and maybe it’ll calm your nerves a bit.” He tilted his head when you didn’t reply, trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Do we need wine?”

Forgetting momentarily that he was nearly naked, you lifted a withering, exasperated gaze at him, getting an eyeful of his bare chest before yelping and burying your face in the covers again. “No. You know what—I need wine—you need to put some damn pants on.”

You could hear his devilish grin return to his voice then, even through the covers. “But life is so freeing without them.”

“Pants. On. Now.”

to be continued

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Day 31 : Not Lonely Anymore - Obey Me! Brothers

"Why the gloom face, Kat?" Mammon asked as I stared blankly at my phone, playing a game absent-mindedly. "...I'm just tired, I guess." I muttered, not wanting to look at the white haired man. "Haven't slept enough, huh? Well, c'mon, maybe you just overworked yourself with studying again. I mean, chillax a bit, you're just like Lucifer sometimes, but I can't take care of you all the time...Wait, actually, I can...Huh..." Mammon caressed his non-existent beard, almost as if he just had a revelation. "Well...I and Lucifer are very much alike. Sometimes it's scary when I realise just how very alike we are. I'm sure you, of all people, realised that, haven't you?" I sighed, dragging my hands down my face in exasperation. "Yeah, 'course I did! That's what worries me, sometimes! But, hey, at least you ain't got some sort of unhealthy obsession with Lord Diavolo...You don't, do you?" Mammon's eyes widened in mock shock, and I got to my feet, signaling for the man to come to dinner with me in the dinner room, where we met the other brothers.

"What are you all doing these days?" I asked, pushing around my food with a fork. "I'm going to sleep." Belphie spoke, as Beel munched on food, as usual. "I'm cooking and have a reservation at Hell's Kitchen and a match soon." "I have some friends inviting me on a trip, and Asmo's coming with me since there are clubs there." Satan pointed out simply, barely lifting his gaze from his book. "I have work to do...Gotta repay some debts...And Lucifer is burried in work as usual. And Levi ain't here 'cause some new game appeared and he hasn't left the room in 3 days already." Mammon explained for the older brothers, and I could only look down and nod in agreement. "Seems like y'all are incredibly busy during this time of the year...Oh, wait, my phone's ringing...? My human world phone...?" I muttered, getting up and walking around the room. "Yeah, hey, how are things?" I asked softly, not really wanting my conversation to be heard by the demons."Oh, hey, well...I wanted to tell you that I can't come to your birthday anymore. I know, I know, I promised you months ago that I will come, but, uh...My boyfriend made a reservation to the mountains for ski and I couldn't refuse...Y'know, I didn't just want to stay home like a lonely depressed loser on New Year's." the self-proclaiemed best friend of mine said in a whiny voice, but it was obvious she couldn't care less about me and she had her priorities set since the second she got together with the guy. "...That's alright...There's always next year...Or the year after...And so on. Have fun on your trip. Bye." I told her, hanging up the phone and staring at the screen, gritting my teeth in betrayal, disappointment and anger. "Like a lonely depressed loser, huh..." I muttered to myself, robotically exiting the room and going to mine, getting on my laptop to unwind a bit by waching "The Real HouseSuccubi of Devildom", only to receive a text from the other friend who was supposed to come to my birthday, only to say she didn't realise my party was on the 2nd, not on the 3rd, as is my actual birthday, so she couldn't come anymore, as she was too busy with many other parties. 

Great.

Guess they're right.

I really am the only lonely depressed loser from all groups of so called friends that I have.As tomorrow is December 31st, and I had to do some New Year's and Birthday shopping, I packed my laptop and other gadgets and made my way to Diavolo's Castle, only to be stopped by Lucifer, as we bumped into each other in one of the many golden corridors. 

"Did Lord Diavolo request a meeting with you too, Katrina?" Lucifer asked, but I could only shake my head, not feeling up to chatting. "No. I want to tell him to get me home for a week. No big deal, really." I shrugged simply, knocking and walking together in the Demon Prince's office, and telling him my request, which he accepted, but his eyes showed a bit of concern and skepticism that I chose to completely ignore. "That's right, I believe humans celebrate New Year's every year, correct?" Lucifer asked, widening his eyes in realisation. “...Yeah.” I nodded, hoping to have this interrogation ending already. “I suppose you’re going to gather around with your friends and celebrate, correct? That’s what humans do with these kinds of festivities, from what I gathered.” the brunet continued, which made me sigh and roll my eyes in exasperation. “Yeah. That’s if you have friends. If not, you’re a lonely depressed loser who spends every festivity at home, alone, watching crappy TV shows, drinking cheap alcohol and eating pizza and ice cream until you can’t eat anymore. Fun, isn’t it? Now, can I go, already? Yes? Thank you, bye.” I gave them a sarcastic, overly exaggerated grin, waving a bit before stepping into the portal and finding myself back in my world, inside my apartment. “...Welcome home, bitch.” I muttered to myself, taking a deep sigh and opening all windows to get fresh air in, while I’d go and order a shit ton of alcohol and cheap frozen pizza boxes.

This is absolutely tragic and miserable, and I absolutely hate it. Not that I’m surprised, really. Not even one bit. If I’m fated to be forever alone and living in ultimate misery, might as well do it in style like doctor Gregory House - Drinking booze, all alone, eating snacks and watching the Real Housewives of whatever bitchin’ U.S. state I can find, starting with Beverly Hills.

Episodes passed by fast, seasons as well, and bottles and boxes were discarded to the floor at an indefinite rate, since I completely extracted myself from real life, choosing to turn off my phones and keeping them in another room, and I had no wall clocks, so the only way to estimate time was the darkness outside... And considering the drapes were closed and the only lights from the house were coming from the big Smart TV and the mini disco ball I had from the year before, that I had placed in the middle of the living room table, that, if you were to look at the rapidly moving, colourful dots from the walls, you’d get high as a kite without even having to snort a white line.

Gosh, this is boring.

Oh, hear that, it’s midnight already, they’re shooting fireworks outside -... Ah, right, I forgot to buy some myself. Well, doesn’t matter, ain’t like I can enjoy them with anyone.

What was that quote...

‘There’s always next year’

That’s what my grandparents would say when I was little and they didn’t want to come to see me on my birthday. 

There’s always next year.

But there was no next year since then, because they disowned me and my parents because of some petty fight.

How great life without a family is.

There’s always next year...To make new friends, to get a boyfriend, to find a purpose in life that isn’t simply overworking yourself until you collapse on the spot, that isn’t...Being a lonely depressed loser...

And, ideally, not being such a pity-wallowing idiot, like I am now. 

I had no idea how long I stood on the couch, lounging around, the thin blanket over my head and watching, without paying much attention, tv TV show, I head a loud pop and suddenly, the lights got turned on in my apartment, making me squeak and put the blanket over my face so my eyes wouldn’t be burning anymore.

“Is that how humans celebrate? Pretty lame if you ask me.” the familiar voice of Asmodeus was heard, and I could only groan in annoyance. “Well, I’m SORRY for offending you, Queen Bee, but not everyone is liked by all the people in the world, and not everyone has FRIENDS! Yes, this is fucking pathetic, but what the hell am I supposed to do anyway? This is what all my celebrations look like since all my friends got boyfriends and they clearly don’t give a flying fuck about me. Why are y’all here anyway? Get the hell back to your stupid work, I don’t need everyone to see how much of a lonely depressed loser I am.” after my angry outburst, I hid back in my blanket, covering my face, hoping that my form wouldn’t be trembling like a sad and angry chihuahua trying to be intimidating. “Wait, hold up, didn’t you say you were having a birthday party in a few days? With friends and all that?” Mammon asked, dropping on the couch next to me. “Yeah, well, I cancelled it. Everyone’s too busy to come. They got boyfriends. Even if they promised to come, I’m nobody’s first option and I’ll never me. I’m resigned to that, I know I’ll always be the lonely depressed loser, as my friends called it, so there’s that. Now, if you’ll PLEASE leave me the hell alone and weep in self-pity, I would be really grateful. Bye.” I emphasised the word that was supposed to make them understand and bugger off, but, instead, the other 6 brothers plopped down on the couched, squeezing each other and crawling all over me. “Well, they aren’t real friends, are they? The Lord of Shadows would never treat Henry so terribly! The Lord of Shadows stay by Henry’s side through all the good and bad moments without fail!” Levi preached, making me chuckle slightly, despite the tears that were welling up in my eyes. “Besides, you kinda became our family, so no matter what, you are our first priority, even if we don’t really show it.” Belphie smiled softly, taking off the blanket from my head and stroking my hair. “You are a special person and you deserve to be treated as such. Perhaps humans are too narrow-minded and blind to see it, but we do. You’re always so sweet, quiet and kind, that when you can’t hold your emotions anymore and they got too bottled up, it shows how miserable and stressed out you are. I get it. And you at the dinner table...You were really sad.” Satan spoke from one of the couch arm rests, hoping to make me feel better. “Not to mention, when we were in Diavolo’s room, you were really on the edge. We may have things to do, but they’re all pretty usual and mundane, so they can be put aside for a later time. Humans don’t live as long as we do, so we take time for granted, but when you should cherish every second you’re alive, living with such depression isn’t the right way to go.” Lucifer smiled like a kitten trying to reassure me. “Yeah, even Lord Diavolo got worried when he heard you speak, Lucifer said, and wanted to make sure you’re okay, so he had Barbatos bake some sweets for you.” Beel grinned, pointing to the tons of cakes placed on my table. “You’ve been more cheerful whenever you were in the Devildom, but here, it feels like you’re always so sad, and I hate seeing you like this. You deserve so much better than the way they’re treating you, Kat!” Asmo hugged me tightly, and I could only scoff. “Yeah, that’s what I hear all the time from everyone. You deserve better. Good, then why don’t you treat me better?! If I truly deserved better, you would treat me better! ...Everyone’s such a hypocrite nowadays...It’s impossible to find anyone genuine here.” I complained about my shit experience with people. “Well, y’know, people suck, right? Looks like they suck more than demons do, and we’re all sins, damn it! Anyway, you have as now, Kat, so who cares about them? You belong with us, at least we care about you even when we’re pissing you off. And we’d never abandon you like that, ‘specially on your birthday! Hey, Kat look at me...Now, smile. Yeah, like that.” Mammon told me to smile, but he pinched my cheeks and forced a wide and kinda painful grin on my face, only to make me chuckle nonetheless. “...Thanks, guys. I owe you.” I muttered, looking down and trying to hide my face a bit, but the guys hugged me, making me finally feel happy and warm. “You owe us nothing, Katrina, just to try to find happiness in other places other than this miserable Earth.” Lucifer advised me, and I couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Yeah...I will. I’m sure I will. Everything’s better when demons are involved.” I joked, shrugging my shoulders dramatically, as the others laughed at my comment, and finally, we could start a proper party with deafeningly loud music, dancing and hella on point food.

Who’s the lonely depressed loser now, bitch?

[firebirdsdaughter]

Small things that kill me…

… The look on Vergil’s face when Nero gives the ‘Dante’s not going to die up here and neither are you’ speech.

Honestly… Just all of his interactions w/ Nero in that scene.

Vergil’s a fucking dumbass who has no clue how to person at this point, he’s a complete wreck who may or may not have known he had a kid before the whole incident w/ Mundus, but now he’s even less equipped to deal w/ it, he has precious little if any practice not being at the least indifferent at the most hostile…

I think one of Vergil’s big issues is indifference, to the consequences for his actions, especially for others, for what others think, for himself in many ways… While V did develop a bit, enough to realise splitting himself in half caused massive, destructive consequences for countless people. Sure, maybe he couldn’t have predicted (which I don’t think he did) that Urizen would go that bonkers, but setting half a demon loose on the world would generally be a bad idea, to say nothing of ripping someone’s arm off in order to do so (the extreme indifference again, causing him to be unable to properly ask for help—I don’t think he enjoyed or ‘wanted’ to ‘hurt’ Nero, but the consequences never crossed his mind; to him, it was just something he had to do to survive, that was all that mattered). And that’s all a result of what he went through ever since the attack—I have this whole ramble about how I think his and Dante’s fighting styles reflect the (both unhealthy in their own way) way in which they reacted to that traumatic event—but bc he’s been fending for himself since eight, w/ only the Yamato on hand, he’s downright dangerously/extremely self sufficient/obsessed with being completely self reliant. Like the Phantom of the Opera’s ‘the world showed no compassion to me’ except really. His entire life was just about getting through the day, he had it drilled into him by experience that he could only truly trust himself, that he needed to be able to do things entirely on his own—to the point that even after being ripped apart, pretty much literally, by Mundus, he still can’t ask for help. It is a result of his trauma, but it means he has very limited skill in thinking of other people. Like, if we get a future game w/ him as one of the protags, I feel like that would be something he’d absolutely struggle w/, being more aware of others. That it would take him twice as long to react/do things that might take others like Dante or Nero a moment bc he has to actively make himself think about others, forcibly train himself to do that.

Anyway, I’m going off topic. My thought is… Vergil’s definitely not, at first glance, or even second glance, or third, parent material. I love the character, he’s a walking disaster. He’s no good at thinking of others, and is indifferent to what others think of him. I think he still loved Dante in his own, very damaged way, but he’d rallied himself against that feeling for so long, considered it weakness and shut it out, that he likely won’t be able to express it in any understandable way for a long time. And on the inverse, he can’t conceive of, for instance, Dante actually caring about him—like… He doesn’t think he matters to anyone either, puts no emotional value in himself. If that makes any sense? Like… Even when he does encounter compassion, he rejects and suspects it… Dante is a weird case, but I do see Vergil not understanding that he matters to anyone. He’s indifferent to everyone, including himself, and he doesn’t expect any more care or affection from others than he shows—like he’s not one of those jerks who expects people to like him despite being a jerk, he’s just largely given up on relationships (he either thinks they only bring pain, or that, like his softer feelings for Dante, they are weakness).

And I think he went up there to die. Pride and stubbornness prevented him from surrendering, but he had at least some idea of the enormity of the consequences of his actions. At the least, he knew he’d majorly fucked up and caused a lot of pain. I think his intentions were similar to that of Griffon and crew—face Dante one last time, fight all out bc his own pride wouldn’t let him do any less, and leave it up to fate. I don’t think he expected to kill Dante, just that he couldn’t not fight his hardest, out of respect and bc it was his nature. But he had no illusions over his probability of survival. The only reason he did throw the sheath away this time was that it wasn’t a ‘suicidal blaze of glory’ like I think fighting Mundus might’ve been, but more of a trial by combat, to him. Dante, meanwhile, was just assuming/accepting that he was going to have to take his brother out again, and he likely wasn’t planning on ever coming back from that, either (which I don’t think Vergil realised), either by dying in the fight, too, or going into hell on his own.

But then Nero shows up. Now I think V and therefore Vergil were at least aware that Nero and Dante mattered to each other, bc Dante’s the kind and caring one and Nero’s a good kid. Like, I’m sure he was aware of that.

I don’t think he’s surprised Nero interrupted (that form probably was unexpected, but Nero objecting in general or trying to rejoin the fighting wasn’t completely unthinkable) or that Nero was defending Dante.

I think what catches him off guard is the ‘and neither are you.’

He ripped Nero’s arm off and then knowingly deceived him as V, and on top of that, turns out Nero is his son who he pretty much abandoned (like we don’t know the details of when and why Vergil left, or if he knew, but the fact is, he made choices that resulted in him not being there for Nero). And that’s to say nothing of all the hell Urizen caused. Basically, a list of things that would generally result in Nero falling into the same category as everyone else—another burned bridge, another person who hates him, and Vergil is quick to close doors. He expects no consideration from Nero, no more than he’s shown, and V was aware they had horribly hurt Nero (esp since V was weaponising Nero’s issues surrounding that).

But instead of just completely writing Vergil off like Vergil expects, Nero extends this declaration of ‘not dying’ to him as well. Sure, Vergil immediately tries to throw up the usual prideful walls what w/ that ‘if I beat Nero I win by default’ stuff, but then he later tries to get Nero to stand down rather than continuing the fight, saying it has nothing to do w/ him [Nero], and then his reaction to Nero’s ‘it has everything to do w/ me’… He just doesn’t know how to react to Nero? He expects one thing, but Nero just keeps defying his assumptions (which takes some mighty powerful heart and compassion on Nero’s part bc while I do see Vergil as incredibly tragic and don’t think he’s fully ‘responsible’ for Urizen’s actions, Nero doesn’t have a lot of that info, but he’s making the decision that this is fucked up and no family of his is going to kill each other—so anyway while I do love me the angsty drama dads, let me just say I love Nero, too).

It’s with Nero that bits of his awkward, ‘tsundere’ side come out, ever so slightly. He and Dante have trapped themselves in a pattern, Dante bc he’s Tired and has just resigned himself to the necessity of it an wants to get it over w/ and Vergil bc at his core he’s afraid to try anything else bc he sees it as weakness. But I said this before, I think Nero being his son and Nero being… How Nero is, all heart and and good and warm and compassionate, to the point that he’s defying not just the ‘inevitability’ of Vergil and Dante being at odds, but literally fighting to save him, after all he’s done… I think that meant something.

Obviously, it’s not going to be simple or easy, and I do think that, now that he’s been given hope that he can get through to Vergil and not have to kill him (which I think he’d concluded was a sort of mercy kill?), Dante is the best person for Vergil to get used to his emotions etc. w/ bc they have that deep understanding of each other and what happened, esp now, but… I love how Nero cracked his shell there? Like… He’s not really prepared for it, but I think I can see Vergil wanting to at least try to be some kind of parental, esp after he’d recovered a bit more? And I do think he’d also respect if Nero ultimately told him to get lost (although I can seem him, like, watching from afar or something), even now, bc again w/ the whole I think he has no expectations of what others think of him, but… I do see him wanting (and maybe having trouble accepting that he wants it, at first) to be part of Nero’s life in some way? Esp in a vein of… Wanting to preserve Nero’s ‘goodness’ for lack of a deeper word? Bc I can see a slightly more recovered post dmc5 Vergil not wanting his son to fall down the same holes he did. Like, they’ve all gone through trauma, and lost people, but Vergil is now very aware that he ended up hurting and even killing people and very nearly destroying himself and going absolute monster, to the point his twin brother, who understood him on another level, in their own way, resigned to having to kill him to stop it (I genuinely think for all his talk, Dante did see it as a bit of a mercy kill, the only way he could preserve the last shreds of the brother he loved and keep Vergil from actually going Full Urizen [V even existing means that Vergil wasn’t completely gone, but I think he was on thin ice]). Dante’s already dragged into this by the very same events that placed him there, but Nero has a chance not to be, which I think was part of his ‘this has nothing to do w/ you’ thing, and I totally see Vergil following that sentiment and wanting to keep Nero from ever turning out like him. 

Vergil’s probably never going to be ‘nice’ or very good at empathy or things like that. It may forever take him more willpower to think about others. He may need to start small (like just Nero and/or Dante). He’ll probably still be insensitive for years to come. He’ll never be able to be as easily open and compassionate as Nero and Dante. And he knows he can’t change the past, can’t undo the Arkham incident, or what he did to Nero, or the fact that his stubbornness, pride, inability to ask for help, obsessive habits, and indifference/inconsideration for consequences had calamitous results. He’s not magically good or saved bc he has a kid, but I think even just knowing about and seeing Nero act the way he did resonated w/ something he thought he’d lost a long time ago. Nero and V’s interactions have a whole new light for him now. I absolutely think if Dante’s willing the twins should stick together bc they balance each other, Dante can watch him, won’t take his shit, and wants to help him be better, but… I think even if that didn’t happen… There’s a chance just knowing Nero exists and is so… Good could enough of a catalyst for Vergil to find a different way to live, even on his own. Like there’s a sense of pride? Not in the vein of taking responsibility for Nero turning out as good as he did, but, like, in the way people sometimes say ‘I’m sorry’ like ‘I’m sorry that you are sad’ as in ‘I am expressing sympathy for your sadness.’ Pride that Nero has achieved this, and is strong in his own right. If that makes sense.

He will always be rather an asshole. But, esp if he has some support for his issues and someone watching him… He can do better. Like… Do better. He’ll always be stiffer and pricklier than everyone else, he’ll probably be more pragmatic, think more w/ logic than w/ heart. Emotions and empathy and compassion will always be hard.

But those interactions (and, honestly, that whole ending, even more honestly, the themes of  the whole game), def gave me the impression that he could absolutely do better.

… I just went on a total stream of consciousness ramble, so, uh, virtual treat of your choice if you read all that.

[starry-sky-stuff]

Book Review - Bringing Down the Duke by Evie Dunmore (League of Extraordinary Women #1)

Rating: 3/5

Plot: 4/5

Pacing: 3.5/5

Characters: 2/5

Setting: 3/5

An intelligent, enjoyable read, this was a good first start to what I hope becomes one of my favourite romance series. The premise of the book is of a woman, Annabelle Archer, who is studying at Oxford and is part of a women’s group pushing for the passing of what would eventually be the Married Woman’s Property Act of 1882. In lobbying to get the bill passed, she has to lobby Sebastian Devereux, Duke of Montgomery. Hijinks abound and love ensues.

Under the cut for length.

Disclaimer: spoilers will be included.

Some parts of the plot were slightly contrived, but that’s hardly rare in romance novels. Constantly running into your crush simply does not happen in real life. However, having Annabelle be sent to lobby Sebastian provided justification both for their initial meeting and continued association, and Annabelle’s drawn out stay at Sebastian’s estate arose out of their natural burgeoning feelings.

However, the end complication was contrived and reliant on Annabelle wilfully choosing not to be with Sebastian, despite him proposing, because of the damage their marriage would do to his career. This premise is fine, but its execution was lacking. If the main character rejects their love interest because they love them so much that they would prefer to not be with them due to the damage their relationship would cause on the person’s life, the scene should be heartbreaking. Instead, I was left annoyed and with the sense the author made Annabelle act uncharacteristically dumb to extend the plot. It didn’t help that Sebastian was the one who had spent most of the book conflicted over the effect a marriage between the two of them would have on his career, and this was not as much of a concern for Annabelle.

Timing was my major gripe with this book (and my major problem with most romance novels). The plot takes place over only a few weeks and I simply cannot suspend my disbelief enough to believe that these two characters are going to live happily ever after having only known each other for perhaps a month. The falling in love part felt rushed, and whilst it’s not as bad as insta-love, I was not convinced that Annabelle and Sebastian were truly in love. In lust, perhaps, but not love.

Banter is my favourite part of romance novels and I was not disappointed. Annabelle and Sebastian engage in frequent intellectual debates which are a delight to read, and go far in making me support their relationship by demonstrating that Sebastian respects her. Great chemistry.

Annabelle and Sebastian’s characters were interesting to me but were one of the weakest parts of the book. Part of that is my personal preference. I do not like the style of more Alpha Male love interest that Sebastian is a part of, and his need for control, whilst not veering too far into unhealthy love interest area, did not appeal to me. His relationship with his brother did provide for character development in learning to not need to control everyone around him, but more was needed in that realisation. Sebastian is an aristocratic white man with immense privilege, and yes we see him use his privilege for good, but there needed to be a bit more critical analysis of this privilege. Even just having another character point it out would have been sufficient for me.

Having the main female character in a historical novel not be a virgin is great and was handled well. In saying that, Annabelle was not all that interesting to me. Her self-deprecation was not charming to me, and there was a lack of any real character development. Learning to allow others to care for her might count as character development, but it felt contrived to make her more suitable to Sebastian’s rather domineering nature. Annabelle has little to no internal struggle about the relationship and loses nothing from the marriage, unlike Sebastian who is conflicted over it and does stand to lose influence. Sacrificing his political capital and family seat is a great way of proving that Sebastian does love Annabelle and is committed to being with her. Unfortunately, I don’t think Annabelle was given as fleshed-out of a character arc as Sebastian and was far more static.

The class dynamics, and ensuing power imbalance, between the two characters is not given enough attention for me. Lip-service is paid to it, but the effect that this would have on their relationship is never really explored. This plays into to my general problems with Sebastian’s character and the fact I’m not convinced that he is so changed that their marriage wouldn’t be marked by a considerable power imbalance.

The secondary characters were wonderful and I can’t wait to see each of their stories play out in their own books.

Moving away from the standard Regency setting of historical romance novels was a great decision, and I really felt immersed in this world. I understood the plight of women in the Victorian Era, and it was clear that the author had done extensive research. The setting of Oxford could have been better developed, and felt like more of a backdrop of slight relevance to the plot.

Overall, an excellent exploration of the very real issues faced by women in the 19th century. When Sebastian offers Annabelle the role of his mistress, Evie Dunmore did a great job of making us want it because we want them together, but also highlighting the double standards and just how alienating such a position would be for Annabelle. In a book about feminists, however, the book fell down by making Sebastian a more compelling character with a more developed character arc.

[aqvarius]

Do you think Kazuomi is actually really serious with his relationship with mc? Because I don't think so and I feel bad since his mc is most likely be more invested in their relationship emotion-wise.... Same goes with Kei too, even though his hasn't overcome his trauma but I think he shouldn't be in a relationship with his mc (cant put it into words). How would you rank them in terms of "serious, emotionly and mentally stable, compatability" since imho only yuzu and his mc are a fit lol

hmmmmmm good question. i have to admit that i haven’t yet played kazu’s s2 fully (but have read his s2 pov and the epis) but the feeling i get from his and his mc’s relationship is that it’s a really fresh relationship which hasn’t yet matured. kazuomi and his mc are a good match in terms of chemistry and compatibility in that they always challenge each other. i did think they were finally getting close in obscura where he finally got to see her ‘real self’ and i was kinda hoping they would drop the whole games thing and really start to get to know each other beyond the banter. and then they kind of went and reversed that development with nudus and season 2. his s2 pov made me realise that at that time, he wasn’t actually in love with his mc, he’s just attracted to her more intensely than he has been with the other women in her life. so he ‘fell’ for her in season 1 but in my opinion it wasn’t really love. and tbh even at the end of his season 2, i think he likes her VERY much but i’m still on the fence as to whether or not it’s love. i think it’s pretty obvious from the way i talk about my favourite voltage moments/characters/couples that i love DEVELOPMENT lol and i just feel like with kazu and his mc, there is a sort of sense of arrested development? one of the big issues in his season 2 imo that i feel didn’t get resolved in his pov (i can’t say about the main route) is that he is confronted with having to change his way of life for the sake of his gf and their relationship and yet every time he chooses to just do things his own way? 

edit: rest of the answer placed under cut for season 2 spoilers + length

for kazu, i feel like their relationship will only mature when he’s willing to give up the core aspects of his “selling points” (money/power/games) for his mc and their relationship. i do understand that they’re still pretty early on in their relationship, like it’s just been a matter of months and you don’t get deep with people that easily, but i hope that we do eventually get to see him really change in the future and they can love each other sincerely for who they are underneath all the games and banter. i think that’s why i love his self-pleasure story in otkoi bc we just got to see kazu do stuff that’s so not his style just for her, and then they had a really straightforward and wholesome talk about what’s missing in their relationship without being hidden behind codes and games. 

i think they rely so much on the concept of kazuomi as thrilling that we don’t really get to see that many genuine moments with him which i’m a bit sad about, because i love his genuine side the most. even in devians, when he was pretending to be normal, he still orchestrated everything and then the story took it back to that whole concept where the selling point of the route is that kazuomi is really rich and powerful and does huge grand gestures. i don’t mind that bc kazuomi is Extra to his very core but i really miss the REAL kazuomi that we saw in his s1 being all soft for just like... seeing busy and vibrant spaces full of happy people.

insert that magneto “i prefer the real [owner of the] raven [hotel]” meme lmao.

ANYWAY i do think that his occultus second night shows him finally starting to open up a little outside of just like “you’re the only one who can match up to my wits”. i feel like kazuomi showing off with grand gestures and flaunting his wealth and power is kind of his way of coping with the loneliness and trauma of the darkest part of his life, which is why it’s so significant that he lets her into the space where he was at a low point living in that motel before meeting zack. i hope that we get to see kazu really have to sacrifice some of his current core values/priorities for the sake of his mc, and i hope the way he thinks about her changes to become deeper and more mature beyond just like “she can always stand up to my challenges” - basically going from liking and being attracted to her to really loving her. 

with kei, i have a lot of mixed feelings about how bdsm is presented. since i’m not a mental health professional, i don’t really want to make any strong comments about what’s healthy or not when dealing with childhood trauma aside from like the idea that therapy is important (although kei himself admits that he’s actively driven away all his therapists). but i agree that he hasn’t overcome his trauma and, like kazu, still hasn’t even after the events of his s2. i haven’t read any of the content after his s2 main story so i can’t speak on what happens when his mc meets his grandparents and such but just based on the way he just peaced out during his s2, it’s evident that his issues manifest through at the very least his phobia of commitment (not even going to comment on the way he acted when her necklace was broken and how she was literally afraid of his reaction and also the way he like... forced her to drink juice? i picked the option where i tried to reject the juice and the fact that he forced me to anyway and she drank it bc she was afraid of him made me really uncomfortable lol). in my opinion, his sexual relationship with his mc is also very much based on his issues with power and control (ostensibly stemming from trauma) and she kind of bends over backwards to not step on his toes when it comes to his control issues. my experience with bdsm is that communication (and aftercare lol) is so important for maintaining a healthy relationship but i just kind of feel like she’s not necessarily an active participant as a sub and doesn’t really know what being a sub entails in a healthy dynamic but rather is just like going along with what he wants bc (1) it’s thrilling maybe? (they really play up the like physical pleasure aspect) and (2) he might be kinda distant if they don’t do it like that? i guess? i don’t really know bc i don’t tend to read his stories bc i’m not like the most comfortable with how they deal with power play. 

i do think that the relationship he has with his mc isn’t exactly a balanced and healthy relationship? and i also think that kazuomi’s relationship (that we’ve seen so far) is also kinda unhealthy lol. essentially, with both kazu and kei, i feel like their relationships with their mcs kind of enable (what i perceive to be) the coping mechanism aspects of their personalities. 

WITH THAT SAID, i don’t think that people need to be at a fully stable and emotionally mature place to fall in love and start relationships and honestly voltage loves doing the thing where like the mc falls for awful people bc they’re only so mean bc they're so broken and she wants to fix them uwu shinobu narita lmao which personally i don’t like, but it does make for dramatic routes and does set up for future development. it’s still early stages yet in their relationships since i think they’ve only been together for a few months, and they’re definitely still testing the waters. i think we’re being tricked/distracted by all those dramatic climax moments into thinking that their relationship is really serious but tbh they are just barely beginning to actually open up to each other. i just hope that they allow the love interests (and their respective mcs) to mature and develop into healthy people without just throwing out life threatening routes where the relationship dynamic doesn’t necessarily change but it just becomes about newer and grander ways of making big and powerful gestures to save the situation lol. does that make sense? i don’t know if i’m articulating myself well. 

but anyway i agree, from season 1 i always though yuzu’s mc was the best out of all of them. and they are the only ones who have a remotely healthy relationship like why is the yuzu the only one who’s actually considerate? sometimes he can be such an obtuse block of wood but that’s just who he is as a person. and when it comes to the important stuff, he’s actually the most willing to change and compromise for his mc. like... the Difference between kazuomi and his mc’s contract scene vs yuzu and his mc’s contract scene is kind of astronomical. even in yuzu’s devians which is like 3 chapters long only, you can see his growth from being an insensitive blockhead to really trying to understand what she needs from their relationship. and just looking at the way that he treats her emotions re: their relationship has evolved from treating it like a beta test where they give each other feedback reports to him embracing her ‘bugs’? that’s growth babey. time for kazuomi and kei to learn some lessons from the only valid masquerader. 

[inscapeblog]

How subculture can be seen to have influenced graffiti art as a form of graphic design - Michael Rodrigues

Introduction

In this essay, I will be arguing and going into detail about the topic subculture and its characteristics that shape the word subculture, which will lead to my research question of how subculture can be seen to have influenced graffiti art as a form of graphic design. The essay will focus on identifying and solving the problem at hand, which is graffiti art seen as vandalism and crime or can be seen as a form of communication in graphic design. This essay will be using two examples of graffiti art from San Francisco's interior space inside business workplaces mentioned below. These examples will help to better understand subculture in art because of where the design's interior space is located, the elements included in the designs, and why it is effective for subculture. These factors will help achieve a full understanding of subculture and influence graffiti art as a form of graphic design.

Defining how subculture can be seen to have influenced graffiti art as a form of graphic design.

Subculture can be defined from the dictionary as "an identifiable subgroup within a society or group of people, especially one characterised by beliefs or interests at variance with those of the larger group" ("What is subculture?", 2021). From this definition, my understanding and how I interpreted the word subculture was similar. It is a cultural group within a larger culture. Both have their own beliefs and interests separate from one another, or even be mixed and have the same beliefs and interests but are from different backgrounds and lifestyles.

Subculture has some characteristics that define the word, this being Defuse networks, Shared different meanings, shared identity and Marginalisation (Bhasin, 2021).

Defuse networks

There is no structure that is present, thus meaning there is no formal ownership in a subculture. It is a debatable question in subculture as to think it is open participation with thin lines as to what and who subculture resembles. This debate is not exclusive to everyone as subculture can be viewed simultaneously with people in different social classes and cultures. This is why thought between mainstream (direct) and subculture are very similar to each other. This is because since both cultures can coexist and have one mindset, they are able to share the same ideas in which people live their lives.

Shared Different meanings

Subculture can share values, ways of learning, and cultural objections, but it can also allow people to identify with other people in the same subculture. This allows for the idea that the mainstream culture's subculture can be easily told apart from one another. This means that someone who is a sub-culturist (this is someone who follows a subculture or studies them) can debate the definition of current subcultures to the new one. Through social interaction between subcultures or mainstream, the descriptions of what subculture is, is learned and created, thus allowing for the behaviour of subcultures to be easily differentiated from the regular to the accepted norms of society.

Shared Identity

Ethnographers (is someone who explores cultural phenomena from the point of view of the subject) can often argue that "the self-identification of the collective form" (Bhasin, 2021). This is stating that it (self-identification) is a very important factor is being able to tell the subculture and informal social group apart. From an outsider's point of view, they can see that people in a specific subculture who participate in that subculture are considered to be obsessive or unhealthy because that is the only thing they focus on. But from this, people from a subculture feel a deeper connection to ending all ties to members of a subculture because they are able to have their own personal relations amongst themselves. In a way, this shared identity can be seen as an external and an internal identity because this benefits the subculture's people, allowing them to follow the subcultural style to identify each other and not have a shared identity as if they were one.

Subculture is quite defined and broadened through its characteristics were mentioned about, has led my research topic and question that I would like to argue as to how the term subculture can be seen to have influenced graffiti art as a form of graphic design.

The significance of how graffiti art has been influenced by subculture, proving in identifying and solving a design problem

On a daily, most people see more graphic design examples before they even get to work than they see art in a whole year. By the time they are fully awake and their mind is processing that it is time to get a move on life, people will see numbers, letters, shapes, and colours on varies everyday things that they see, this could be print media, photography, adverts (billboards) and even a layout in a magazine newspaper. This is without them realising that they are unconsciously viewing all these design elements in their surroundings, but since they aren't fully aware of their surroundings, they are oblivious to see these elements consciously Barnard, M. (2005).

The question to be asked is how graffiti art has been influenced by subculture in graphic design?

It can be argued that graphic design attracts a big audience of notice, where this be through political and physical awareness of the design. For example, an artist in the graphic design field can make a bold statement that can either express themselves through art for the public or try to a get reaction from the public as part of serious a political matter. Subculture can sometimes be seen as the "gateway" for allowing society, whether this is kids, teenagers or adults, to escape from the constant social environment (Emily Gosling, 2021). Thus, allowing for graffiti art in graphic design to be a means of being a form of communication, giving them a voice to stand out and take back that power they once had in society.

To be on the practical side of it all, subculture can be seen as influencing graffiti art. By this, I am saying that because art revolves around the artist creating the art piece and having society or specific subculture to react it to, it opens up the idea of conversation. This means that there is a relation between graphic design, Society and Culture. Society and Culture can be seen as a backdrop or a mask for graphic design because graphic design is considered an indicator that can reflect social issues or matters elsewhere.

Graffiti art was a method to communicate between graffiti artists and society indirectly. This would allow for changing forms of communication because since the graffiti art movement began in the 1960s, it was a means to make things easier for people who did not have private transport and used trains and subways to see graffiti art. As photography and film become more accessible and advanced after this movement, so too did the methods of graffiti artists' indirect communication, they would find ways in which to take the underground graffiti in subways and trains and bring it up to the "overworked" of the city life and tag walls (Lannert, Camille, 2015).

When someone thinks of the word "graffiti", already in people's minds are big, beautiful and colourful artworks whilst others think of mess and vandalism - that to them they think that makes a town or city look untidy. Graffiti art is painted on walls and other public places that are often made with spray paint. Solving the design problem at hand is graffiti Crime (vandalism), or is it Culture? Well, without graffiti, artists can argue that in cities, it would be boring and lifeless because there is no out of your face artworks that can connect with creative minds in Culture. Graffiti, as mentioned above, can convey a social or political message in both words and pictures that can connect with certain people and cultures and able to strike up a conversation. A good example of an artist who strikes up conversation among the public and culture domain is the artist "Banksy", who creates art piece with a clear and well-thought message for society (British Council, 2021).

Examples of successful application of graffiti art and graphics in spatial design

Below are two examples of successful application of graffiti art and graphics in spatial design, both artworks exhibit where the interior space is located; the elements that are included that makes up the design and how and why these examples are effective for helping me understand how subculture influences graffiti art in graphic design.

Figure 1. BS, Freio. n.d. Hotel Des Arts. Art piece

Above in figure 1 is a lounging area found in the Hotel Des Arts in California. The art piece was made on the wall in this area, as this helps with adding space to the room, where even though it is graffiti art, it acts as something that is filling up the room's space. I can say this because there are two shots in which this art piece was taken, one from quite far away and a close-up shot of the room. 

In the artwork, many vibrant colours and shapes makeup and create the art piece. These colours and shapes add dimension to the room, allowing for the workplace atmosphere to be a more chilled and scenic area to work and spend time in. As we can see in the image, social interaction is taking place, allowing people to strike up a conversation. The artist was able to consider the shapes, colours, and location used to create a beautiful masterpiece in the workplace.

I would say that this is an effective example to best explain how subculture is influenced through graffiti art because it is ticking off those boxes of design, where colour, line, shapes, lighting, space and movement is used very successfully to help better the artwork. This will allow for better and more critical thinkers to be able to work because of the creative follows from the atmosphere of the artwork.

Figure 2. R, Quartz. n.d. Tech Company office space. Art piece

Above in figure 2 is shown a Tech Company office space, where the artist decided to create a beautiful multi-coloured shape design. This vibrancy of colours and shapes adds atmosphere to the work environment and adds movement and flow to it because of the shapes. Shapes have been shown to help people be more productive in doing there work. The colours are appealing to the eyes, giving off a very calming and relaxing vibe to the office's whole space because sometimes workspaces can be a bit overwhelming. This graffiti art piece is able to allow for a person when they walk passed it to stop and appreciate it not only is it pleasing to look at, but it adds to the spatial design of the workplace; by this, the artist seems to have had it well thought out but not only the colours and shapes but by also using the space and lighting to help better enhance the art piece.

I would say that this is an effective example to best explain how subculture is influenced through graffiti art because most elements of the design principles are well thought of by the artist, this being the colour, shapes, lines, space in which the art piece was created and even movement and workflow. These elements have clearly bettered the artwork and the atmosphere of the piece.

Both examples lead to the idea of behaviour and social interaction in a workplace because since art can allow someone to question the what's and the why's of the artist and the piece that was created, it makes for people to question it all, thus striking up the interaction and conversation between people in different subcultures. This can, in turn, allow for people to have the idea as to what you are thinking about when you saw the art pieces, or it can allow you to have your own opinion of it rather than you can express it to other people in the subculture of graphic design.

Conclusion 

To conclude this essay, I have argued that my topic question of how subculture can be seen to have influenced graffiti art as a form of graphic design. By first, understanding what the word subculture is and its characteristics that shape the word subculture led me to have identified and solved the problem that graffiti art in the graphic design field is seen as a form of communication for society and not as an act of vandalism and crime. The essay mentions two examples of graffiti art that is based in San Francisco. Both mentions allowed me to have a better understanding of successful spatial design, based on the design's location of the graffiti art, the elements that are included and used in the designs and why it was effective. All these factors allowed me to understand subculture in graphic design.

[dulcetminds]

some (concept) playlists

find my spotify here ✨ & my fandom character/ship playlists

this page is updated monthly!!!!

💫 monthly, yearly & get to know me playlists:

 monthly mixtape: updated daily and refreshed every month with no correlation to anything what so ever.

twentytwenty: a song for each day of the year

the soundtrack to my life

my favourites

pass the aux cord, fool: car vibes

🍾🌉 playlists based off cliché concepts:

coming of age indie romcom soundtrack: cigeratte burns on film, a first kiss that tastes like beer and chapstick, and laughter falling on train tracks

not another coming of age soundtrack: red party cups and the never-ending feeling of nostalgia

Mother Nature reclaims: a soft apocalypse mix

tragedy in the dark: set in the 90's, you're driving at night on the highway, passing under street signs and street lights that illuminate your lovers tired face as they trace circles on your thigh

rise up!: (a futuristic teenage rebellion playlist) you live in a world full of holograms and plastic food, the government is corrupt and somewhere out there is a bunch of rebels that are fighting back

an angels kiss in spring: it’s the roaring 40′s and you hit the town in bold red lipstick, curled hair, flared dresses & traditional swing

a wispy field of sunshine: there's something alluring about falling in love under the sun, sipping on raspberry lemonade & kissing someone who tastes like chapstick

the air is fresh out here: i am lost beneath the earth; dirt and moss fill my lungs and i cough up ivy and rose petals as the trees whisper my name so soft, it gets caught in the wing of a butterfly floating by

3am dancing with my lover: fairylights are hung low around the kitchen, my lover has tired eyes full of wonder and we trip over our own two feet, laughter pumping our hearts alive

the last dancers at midnight: my prom could have been better so we're gonna visualise it like a teen romance movie; tired feet, starry eyes & a tender kiss under the disco ball in your high-schools' hall

even my phone misses your call: 'hey, this is [redacted] please leave your message after the beep!' 

you’re so nice to come home to: finally moving into a small apartment with your lover; succulents adorn the windowsills and you both have a love for vintage polaroids and dream catchers — a dreamers dream

I've been in love with you forever: best friends that live next door to each other & know one another like the back of their hand, connected windows, rooftop talks, sleepovers, & everything that comes along with we're best friends & i don't want that to change but i am definitely in love with you

found you in this life: my mother once told me that some of the people we meet in this life, we knew in a past life and it’s up to us to decide where it goes from here

raspberry stains: spring flings includes squashing raspberries between finger & thumb, and dancing under the sun

rollerskating disco rink fever: we're twelve years young & there's a disco ball highlighting our hair as we dance the night away & i'm pretty sure we've happened to scuff the linoleum floor

endless summer afternoon: hopping from shadow to shadow, blisters on our feet; summer, summer, summer!

summer ate me alive: and I want nothing more than to sleep through the next three seasons

ragtag band of misfits from the year ‘87: group of four trying to solve the murder mystery of their late best friend / everyone’s hiding something / he might be in love with the boy he’s known since childhood

[our hands are brushing against each other as we walk]: i want to slow dance with you in the middle of the street

hey, new kid!: its highschool and life is full of rumours and giggling girls & boys with sharp teeth and then english class rolls around ━━ and did the principal just introduce a new student?

🧚🏻‍♀️ specific concept playlists (mostly based on moments and emotions that I've experienced & can’t get over):

head’s a buzz!: stoned out of my mind, I'm pretty sure I met the girl of my dreams last night

 I should be sleeping: but i am walking aimlessly under street lights trying to forget your face, your taste, your voice; with vodka stained cheeks and chipped nail polish

pity party for two: the sudden realisation that the future is scary and we're two lost souls stuck in love with people who helped us grow

we’re under the same stars: It’s talking under the stars till the sun breaks through the trees with him, who makes your stomach ache full of laughter and although the wind is cold against your skin and the sleeping bag is thin, he burns just as brightly as the stars in the night sky, and you want to exist between 3 and 4am forever.

I fell in love for one night: he kissed my shoulder & held me tight

moments left unsaid: I love every part of you when it’s loud, when it’s silent, when you don’t know it at all (basically falling in love with your friends in the moment over the smallest of things like the way they dip their head back to laugh or hide their smile behind their hand or when they slow down waiting for you to catch up or pull you aside to ask if you’re doing okay, etc)

angel in disguise: can angels fall in love?

skate park shenanigans: I spent a the hours 8-11pm at a skatepark with my friends and we don’t even skate but this is the specific energy those hours gave off

you’re dreaming beside me: & I’m dreaming of you

how to be soft, sad & content at 4pm

I wish we could live forever: knowing someone you love is gonna die is the one of the hardest things you’re ever gonna witness

remember when we were in love?: 2015: yellow. open roads. a boy. a girl. my house. high school musical. clouds. stars. a pillow. sunflowers. beauty and the beast. skype calls. a bear. / 2017: a girl. blue, blue, blue. / 2019: a girl. a boy. picnics. skateboards. burgers. your house. an empty promise.

the pretty reckless: my friends fall in love too easily

the ceiling is staring back at me: it’s 1am and I'm thinking about everything and anything

me against the world, vol. 1

me & my apathetic brain: basically Russian roulette with I’ll die anyway by girl in red & just a girl by no doubt

🏳️‍🌈🌈 lgbt+ playlists:

this is for the gays!: for pride month 2019, gay bops to rock your socks to

all I see is her: girls r great!

we should fall in love or something: just kidding... haha... unless?

I don’t wanna b ur friend, I wanna kiss ur neck: yeah, it’s based off I wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red & also my ex but we’re gonna take the former

please look at me the same!: my bisexual teen angst

🦋🏹 ‘old groovy, 70′s, 80′s, 90′s etc music’ playlists:

butterfly dust: old time music that goes together

groovy, groovy: 70′s, 80′s, 90′s

lovestrucklovestruck: nothing goes wrong when you live in your head

she’s gold dipped & cherry wine kisses

funky glow

🥁🍒 genre specific playlists:

metamorphic: rock n roll

devils advocate: it’s like white noise before you enter hell (mostly ghostemane)

you’re not indie till: you skate, own a pair of hot converses, have good fashion taste, drink ice coffee and and and

monsters live amongst us: hiding in plain sight, the people we call our friends / a horror pop playlist

hazy affection: anxiety reducing songs and study beats

softly, sweetly: relax your eyes & dream of simpler times

bubblegum pop: the radio is overrated but here we are

glazed eyes, cherry skies

darkness looms overhead

magic under fingernails / under veins

state of mind: kinda like rap but not, definitely an easy listen to while stoned

moon rockets: fly me to outer space where we’ll become another star in the night sky.

dream & folk pop

my dreams reach the stars: my mind is far away from here / starry-eyed and captivated

local neighbourhood party: songs I'd bang my head to at a party

heavenly hymns

fluorescent heartbeats

take me away, into the night

if you see me listening to this, look away: literally Disney musicals mainly Disney’s descendants & zombies

autumnal breeze: a mix of bedroom pop & 80′s tunes

blueberry feelings: is this soundlcoud or tiktok?

untamed glory: the songs dont vibe together as well as they should but i guess thats ironic given the name of this mixtape

all strung up: my favourite female pop songs & then there's sunflower, vol. 6 by harry styles

candyfloss kisses: baby pop

and that’s on tiktok luv: literally what it says

candle lit afternoons: candles + rain = a gentle quiet in it’s purest form

tenderness: soft, quiet, yielding; murmurs at dusk & the playing of hair

my bed is the warmest place: for rainy days & the chill in your nose

🚀🍁🍓 playlists to listen to when your doing this specific thing:

classic picnic bitch: (cute songs that give me picnic vibes) and we bond over a pack of UNO cards and strawberry-filled desserts

beach bums, baby!: a beach-y playlist

hotboxing ur friends car: get high w/ me!

🥺💫🌞🌻🤩🐝 playlists to grow & fall in love with yourself to:

falling in love w/ myself !!!!!: I'm still learning how I work

then I defy you, stars!

seventeen: I made this when I was seventeen and getting over my first heartbreak and realising that I should never wait for people who can only give half back

no negative vibes here!

💌💖 my romance / love centred playlists:

dancing in my room to the sound of you, you, you (middle school crush vibes)

love cluster: and i guess there are lot of love songs out there but there are also a lot of songs that aren't about love that got me feeling like i'm in love so which is it

lovelorn: (a unrequited love playlist) and we yearn for the hearts we cannot hold; lovelorn, lovelorn, lovelorn

our love has gone cold: I love & I loved

whimsical lovers falling out of love

baby boy blues: fell in love for a day with a boy whose smile is contagious and ever-lasting

you gave me panic attacks & I called it love: unsure if you’re in an unhealthy relationship? leave them.

regret in the simplest of forms: I could have loved you / I think a small part of me did

my favourite ‘what if’: soulmates who weren’t meant to be

seeking love among cruel hearts: perhaps we were friends first and lovers second. but then perhaps this is what lovers are.

it’s a long way down from your window: everyone’s favourite secret relationship trope

heartbreak hotel

i’m yearning for his heart while he gives me his body: I love you, don’t you love me too?

make out w/ me?: songs I'd kill to make out with someone too

miss you forever: sad pop love letter

I liked you better in my dreams: the idea of them has taken root in your mind and it’s much different to how they really are

little bit in love with u: alterous attraction? we KNOW her

drowsy cacophony of love

tracing you back to the roots of my house: I'm sifting through the memories of us, where did we go wrong?

love; a choice or a feeling?: and it is both I suppose, it is a feeling, it’s happiness and soft giggles, faint blush. and then it is a choice, a choice to stay with them or leave. it is a choice to not only love them, but yourself too.

tenderly, tragically: this used to be a collab playlist with someone who loved me fully and unconditionally, things have changed since, but this is whats left; it's our story compiled into a playlist

second chance at love: you make me hard, but she makes me weak

lonely in love: (it was supposed to be just casual sex but fuck, I think I'm in love with you)

silent lovers: skinny love (n.) a type of love where two people are in love with each other but are too shy to admit it

my first love: they say your first love never dies, and love, they’re right

my lover is a liar: victim to broken promises and false truths by a boy who died when he gave me his heart

love locket type of love: I loved you in secret !!

the charms of love: don’t fall in love with the moment & think your in love with the girl! (yes, she’s american by the 1975 lyrics)

almost lovers

💸💄💅🏻⛓ playlists that give off bad bitch energy:

rich girl$: my cash flow will never ever end

kiss the boys n make em die!: femme fatale, girl revolution, girl power

GIRLS. FOOD. GEAR: loosely inspired by people by the 1975

girl, interrupted

you’re like a rhinestone pick-up line: picture this — a girl with a hard attitude that you can’t just seem to get off your mind

back on my bullshit: just got my heartbroken; revamped!

👻👽 my halloween inspired playlists:

hallohalloween: basic halloween playlist

 the fae know my name: humans beware the manic pixies & lip curling fae for although they don't lie they are cunning creatures with kind eyes!

frothy vampire chick meets soft green witch: red fanged lover & a green house full of potions, spells & succulents

sirens lament: sharp teeth hidden under a pretty face

murder at the casino: (in breaking news: monster hunters just cant seem to catch a break!)

the howling

witchy renaissance

fuckin vampires, man!

🥀 if I were series (playlists that only feature one artist based off something specific):

if I were to dance in a faerie ring to hozier songs: maybe I want to fall in love with a faerie and be under Hozier’s rule

if I were to live my teenage years to Lorde songs

if I were to get high by the beach to skeggs songs: BIG greening out energy

 if I were to fall in love to tom rosenthal songs: tom rosenthal songs that make me feel like I'm in love!!

if I were to reminisce about heartbreak to LANY songs:

Hogwarts Houses:

🌻 Hufflepuff

🥊 Gryffindor

🐍 Slytherin

📘 Ravenclaw

[interestsofabookwormbitch]

Ramble

Me and my music journey

I guess I'm basically writing a little ramble about my music journey thus far. I don't know, ever since I've gotten into MCR I've been feeling a lot of things, and I really need to let it out, so decided Tumblr would be the perfect place. Of course, I will likely focus a lot on My Chemical Romance at the end, but before I even get there I'm going to have to write at least a little about my other two favs, Green Day and Adam Lambert. If you guys don't want to read it I totally understand, it's really just for me to let out my thoughts anyway.

So, I don't know if anyone here knows anything about me, but I'm a very obsessive person. When I get into something I hyper fixate on it so much it's probably unhealthy. Usually these obsessions last about a month I'd say, give or take a week, and then I feel my interest wane. I then have maybe another month of being strongly invested before completely moving on. It's by the end of the first month however that I can usually tell whether I actually enjoy this obsession or not (if not I leave then). The answer is almost always, yes, I do still enjoy it, although a lot of things do fall into obscurity, and I don't remember them much after the second month. There are also those things that I still feel really strongly for, like Harry Potter. I know these are the things that will last with me forever, and continue to influence my life, even if I don't love them as much as I initially did.

This hyper fixation also extends to music, although I'll admit to only recently figuring that out. Nearly a year ago exactly I decided I wanted to go through some bands and artists, so I made an alphabetized list to go through to add. Unfortunately I realized that my hyper fixation extended to music with the first artist on the list; Adam Lambert.

For about a month straight I only listened to his music. I watched countless videos of him and I'll even admit that he was the first actual person that I shipped with someone else(Adommy). I'm actually grateful for that, because as weird as some people might think it is-heck as weird as I thought it was-it helped me to realize that innocently shipping and partaking in fanfiction wasn't hurting anyone, and this made my experience in certain bands much more enjoyable.

Music wise I'll admit that Adam's style is sometimes not exactly tailored to my taste, but what he may lack in the musical sound he more than made up for in vocals. The main reason I loved him was the way that his voice makes me picture melted chocolate being slowly poured into a mould. It's so full and rich, and even now, after my obsessive stage has passed I can still say his voice is one of the most comforting sounds I know.

Obviously I still adore Adam Lambert to this day, and I even have all of his available music on my playlist; but my fixation faded, as it does with most things, and I by summer I realized I couldn't survive musically off of only Adam Lambert. So, I went back to my old playlist, just this time filled with more Adam than before.

The summer was quite an uneventful one for me, so I quickly grew bored, and I decided to go through another artists discography. This time I chose to go through Green Day. They were my favourite band as a kid (because of one song) so I thought they'd be a good choice.

Boy was that the right call. I loved them! Absolutely adored their music and personalities. And I still do. Their concerts look like a blast, and almost all of their songs are amazing. I'm not musically knowledgeable enough to pass critical judgement on their abilities, but I am able to pass judgement on their music, and it's incredible. It made me feel countless different emotions, and that's exactly what music is supposed to do. Out of all their albums I am expecially partial to American Idiot and Revolution Radio. The storyline in AI, and the political commentary in both were especially good in my opinion, leading me to agree the somewhat popular belief that Green Day is at their best when American politics are at their worst.

I will admit that as much as I loved everyone in the band, I didn't really click with them. I couldn't relate to the members, which upset me a little. It did not, however, diminish my love for them in the least, and I would die happy if I got to go to one of their concerts.

Again, just like with everything, I couldn't live just off of Green Day, so I reentered my full playlist again eventually, and this time it had a significantly larger amount of Green Day songs. On top of that I also created a playlist for my favourite artists, which at the time consisted only of two people. Still was a pretty large list though.

Finally, my music journey thus far in life has lead me to My Chemical Romance. I actually decided to give them a shot because of a Green Day fan I was talking to online. I don't ever have people earnestly suggest stuff to me, so when this person suggested My Chemical Romance so enthusiastically I just knew they had to be my next band. So they went on a new list, one they were the top of. Due to school and stress I hadn't been able to really give them a shot until a month and a half ago.

During spring break I was working on this novel I'm writing, and I wanted to listen to music. Well, I didn't have my phone, so my playlist wasn't an option. I wasn't feeling Adam Lambert at that time, and Green Day would not set the right mood for the story, so I settled on playing My Chemical Romance on the computer as I wrote.

By the time I finished writing that day I was in love. I had gone through their four studio albums twice, and had decided that I should name each chapter after their songs (probably not a good idea, but I fell in love). The next few nights and days I spent endless time listening to their music and watching videos. I downloaded Venganza! And the Black Parade Is Dead both, and I have Life On The Murder Scene saves to my phone. I became obsessed, like usual.

The thing is, it didn't quite feel like the normal obsession for me. Back then I didn't want to think too much on it, as I assumed it was just my hyper fixation kicking in. It's now been nearly two months, and I'm just now thinking about letting other music back in. I still think about them everyday, and I don't think I've gone more than half a day without scrolling through the Tumblr tag.

See, with My Chemical Romance I think I found a band that actually sings to my heart. It almost feels like they were writing these songs for me with how much I connect with them. Obviously not all of them in the same way, but if the lyrics don't fit me, the story they do fit is extremely amazing to me, and the music always knocks it out of the park. Something about Gerard's vocals always always makes me feel something, and he absolutely excels at conveying emotion with his voice.

And it doesn't stop at their music. Each band member is so precious to me. Just thinking about them makes my heart want to burst. Sometimes it's with joy, other times it's with sadness and other times it's just too many emotions. I've cried more over this band than almost anything else in my life. I've only been invested in them for such a short time, but I can honestly say I don't want to live a life without them in it. And I don't mean without the band, that ended in 2013, sadly, but also for their own mental wellbeing, ao its fine. What I mean is that I'm just so happy I live in a world where they existed.

They make me feel complete. It's as if they were a missing piece to me my whole life, and now that it's here, I'm more free to be me. And I am more me now. I hide less, and care less about opinions. They made me realize more than anyone else that I'm who I am and that's ok. That I can be a total geek and nerd and loner and fucking loser, and it's cool. Or more accurately, it's not cool, but who the fuck cares? It's me.

Honestly, for such a tiny m amount of time in my life I think My Chemical Romance has left the biggest impact. And it's not just my hyper fixation talking either. I really mean what I said, and I am eternally grateful for them.

Really I'm grateful for everyone I've mentioned in this post. As much as I love My Chemical Romance, they can't take all the praise. Both Green Day and Adam Lambert have also helped me realise so much, and I will love them forever along with countless other musicians who have helped to shape me. And honestly, this whole post does no justice for anything in it. Words cannot describe how important all this music has been to me in my life.

[la-vita-in-arancione]

Killer Queen: Chapter 6 - It’s Late

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

A/N: So I have definitely decided on updating every Tuesday so you can expect that from now on! Just be aware I have now got two shows to rehearse for now so there may be weeks where the update is a couple days late. I will let you know in advance if that might happen.

Warnings(s): swearing, referenced underage if you know what I mean

Word Count: 1.7k+

Taglist: @missqueeniewrites

Ask to be on my taglist!

"If Remus doesn't hurry the fuck up then I'm leaving."

On any other Friday night, what I would need would be to blow off some steam after a long week. What I would need would be to have a party. What I would need would be to make out with my latest victim/boyfriend. What I would need would be to get absolutely shitfaced. But no. Not on this Friday night. Oh no. On this Friday night, while I wanted to be doing something worth my energy, I was waiting for one of my dickhead friends to come to the Gryffindor common room as he apparently had some amazing news.

Amazing news, my arse.

I swear on my record player, that boy is walking a fine line of either being my friend or getting fucking smacked. A very fine line. About as fine as a grain of salt. Speaking of salt, Remus was getting a shitload in his tea tomorrow morning if he didn't get here within the next minute.

I'm such a great friend, aren't I?

"I'm serious, this better not be a joke," I huffed, slouching against the boy whose lap I was currently sitting on. Rick or Dick or something like that. All I could remember was that his face was vaguely reminiscent of a young David Bowie and honestly, I like that in a guy. He softly caressed my thigh with his thumb and pressing a rather wet kiss to the back of my neck. The thought was there at least, even if the hand on my leg was getting a bit too far up for my liking.

Peter gave me a pointed look, "You need to calm down, he's only a couple minutes late."

"What about the time we were, what, 5 minutes late to lunch? You looked as if you were going to have a mental breakdown right there and then," James smirked, no real malice behind the statement. It still made Peter blush furiously to which James only ruffled his hair.

"You just want him to hurry up so you can shag your friend in a broom cupboard," Sirius said, sounding like a disappointed father.

"Darling, you're a fine one to talk, or are we going to let go of the incident where Filch locked you in a cupboard while you were fucking some girl last year?" I retorted, only resulting in a staring contest between us. OK, so maybe we were both, let's say, experienced in that department. Was it a good thing? Probably not. Was it legal? Oh, fuck no. The law was just something that happened to other people really. This only started in the first place because of a extremely impractical bet that was made in our third year.

"Sirius Black, you whore."

"I am no whore! I am as pure as Jesus Christ himself!"

"If you're as pure as Jesus then Ruth is bloody God."

"Fuck off Peter."

"I'm good thanks."

"Sirius, I have not let you go just yet, young man. I know the walk of shame when I see it."

"Yeah from all the guys that you've made traipse out of our room after an interesting date."

"Fuck off Peter."

"Whatever. I could still get more shags than you."

"You wanna bet?"

"Alright then."

Whoever got more shags by the time we left Hogwarts got 100 galleons from the loser. Which is bad because I don't have 100 galleons. And I reckon Sirius doesn't either. Hence why we were both so keen to win. Although if I'm honest, if I managed to keep whatever would be left of my dignity in tact by the end of our seventh year, that would be enough for me. Not that I would ever admit that to Sirius. 

"Oh, look here he comes," James nodded in Remus's direction, who was now making his way through the common room to us. The statement did, however, put an end to the rather childish staring contest that Sirius and I had refused to back down from. Until now. 

Dammit Remus.

"You took your time," I raised my eyebrows at him as he stood before us, "What the fuck is this all about then?" We all looked at him expectantly, practically drowning in anticipation.

"I have some news," he said, taking a deep breath.

"No shit Sherlock," Peter interjected, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Remus glared at him before continuing, "I trust you all know Idania," he began slowly, as if he wasn't sure how he was going to deliver his apparent news. 

Unfortunately, he had chosen to be friends with a bunch of impatient bastards who had no concept of waiting for someone. Sirius exaggerated a yawn and James looked at the watch he wore for the sole purpose of looking like, and I quote, "a smart hot guy but not too smart to be considered stuck up".

"Anyway, there has been an interesting development," he said, taking a painfully long time to get to the fucking point. After saying this, he gestured behind us and we naturally turned our heads to look. Except there was nothing there.

Remus what.

I turned back to him and was about to ask him this when I noticed that he was now accompanied by a certain blue-haired girl. How the fuck she got there that quickly and that quietly, I would never know. 

I clutched my chest and breathed heavily, grabbing onto David Bowie-lookalike for support, "Is it too much to ask for you to go one day without almost giving me a heart attack? Just one day, that's all I ask."

Idania of course looked rather confused, bless her, and Remus quickly signed for her. Realisation dawned on her face and she breathed shortly through her nose, which I assumed to be how she laughed. This drew my attention to her nose and now I could see her properly, I had the chance to admire her nose piercings properly. She had two silver studs in the left side and a matching ring going through the middle of her nose which reminded me somewhat of a bull. Her hair was styled in two French braids, so loose that I was terrified they would fall out at any given moment, coming to a bun at the bottom of her head. This also allowed me to also see her ear piercings in all their glory. She had two crystal studs in her right ear, meanwhile in her left, she had a hanging moon and star with a chain dangling from the bottom of it, three studs not unlike the ones in the other ear, two rings on the side of her ear and a stud and ring near the entrance of the ear. That was a lot of piercings but she pulled it off fabulously. She was probably breaking more rules in her appearance alone than I had all week and I did not like that, no matter how fucking amazing she looked.

Idania started signing rapidly and Remus thankfully translated for us, "Err, she says seen as Remus here is taking far too long, I'll make it easier for you all," this resulted in a look from him that clearly screamed 'what did I do to you', "Remus and I are going out!"

I fucking knew it.

Thank God I didn't have to spend the entire year watching them make heart eyes at each other but continuously deny the other liked them back. We interrogated them for a while, discovering all the important details such as who asked who (she asked him), when it happened (yesterday) and when their first date would be (tomorrow). They happily gushed about the blooming relationship, much to my delight, but I couldn't help but notice the almost uncomfortable look on Sirius's face when he thought no one was looking.

*************

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Sirius practically yelled, staring at the book in his hands.

"Sorry but that's the first step," I shrugged, smug as hell that I didn't have to go through that. He was currently staring at my notebook that had clearly written the step by step instructions for becoming an Animagus.

And the first part?

Keeping a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month.

A whole month.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I didn't have to do that and you can bet I wouldn't let Peter, James and especially Sirius forget it.

"It's not that bad, you can still talk and drink and eat," Remus pointed out from his hospital bed, "It will just take a lot of getting used to."

"The only thing you can't do is kiss," I said in a sing-song voice that really did not help with calming Sirius down, "Such a shame, isn't it? No sex for a whole month. Guess I'll just have to have as much as possible so you can't catch me and win the bet," I smiled as sweetly as I could and Sirius probably would have smacked me there and then if Remus wasn't giving him what we sometimes call the teacher's glare.

He had to settle for a simple, "Fuck off Ruth."

"That's exactly what I intend to do, darling," I said, trying ridiculously hard to not laugh. Luckily, James and Peter returned from the greenhouses with the mandrake leaves before Sirius could retaliate and before Remus could scold me again. Even when the full moon was a mere minutes away he could still snappy. Perhaps now even more so. James started handing out the leaves - we had a few spare in case, Merlin forbid, we needed them.

"So remember what my mum said," I reminded quickly as I could see Minnie and Poppy coming over to collect Remus out of the corner of my eye, "As soon as we see the full moon, everybody put their leaf in their mouth, OK?" Everybody nodded and hid their leaves as the teachers came closer. 

Remus grimaced when Minnie said grimly, "Come now, Lupin." I shot him a sad smile as he trudged out of the hospital wing. Even though this had been happening every month for near enough 10 years now, I still felt a strange sense of melancholy and maybe even guilt. I hated having to watch one of my best friends go through the mental and physical pain that came with being a werewolf and not being able to do anything about it. I guess we would just have to wait together and hope and pray to a God that may or may not exist that he would be OK.

[infantacarlota]

hi guys! here’s carlota’s bio + a list of wanted connections. if you’d like to plot please drop me a message and i’ll find you!!  i’m seldom on the discord server bc i get overwhelmed easily/large group chats stress me out, but i love to chat and plot, in fact i’m a sucker for extensive plotting and i do want a bit of everything for carlota so pls throw any and all ideas you have my way. 

- ̗̀✰ •【 LILY JAMES / FEMALE / 27 】announcing the arrival of her royal highness, ( CARLOTA LUÍSA ISABEL ), the ( INFANTA ) of ( PORTUGAL ). I’ve heard that she is ( IMPULSIVE ) & ( PARANOID ) but can also be ( INTUITIVE ) & ( PASSIONATE ). ( CARLOTA ) is arranged to marry ( MICHIEL HUISMAN, BOB MORLEY, ALFONSO HERRERA ). Rumor has it ( SHE'S THE REASON HER BROTHER THE CROWN PRINCE IS IN A COMA ). We hope you enjoy your stay at London!

STATS

name: carlota luísa isabel, house of coimbra, infanta of portugal age: 26 family:

henrique (father, deceased) terezia (mother, deceased) luís (uncle, 52, regent, childless younger brother of henrique)  pedro (brother, 33, in a coma) ____ (brother, 29-31) ____ (brother, 27-29) ____ (brother, 23-24) silvia (sister, 22-23) ____ (brother, 19-20)

relationship status: betrothed to espen jarle lillegarde, crown prince of norway.  language(s) spoken: portuguese (fluent), english (fluent), french (well), spanish (fluent), italian (decently), deutsch(okay-ish), danish (okay-ish) eyes: brown hair: brown physical ailments: not an ailment per se, but she broke her right arm in her youth and it didn't heal properly so it's slightly crooked at the elbow. she's a little self-conscious about it and it aches at times, especially if she has to carry something heavy, but for the moment that's about it. neurological ailments: low key depressed but isn't even close to being aware of it because depression is such a foreign thing to her. this quote explains it nicely:

"Being an extrovert with depression and constantly maintaining a lively personality can sometimes feel like you are lying to the world. It makes depression something only you can deal with, when you can finally take off “the mask” [...] suffering from depression as an extrovert comes down to not being taken seriously. It’s hearing how you must be over-exaggerating your condition because there is no way you can be laughing with friends on the same night you go home and cry yourself to sleep. [...] is knowing that people will make you happy because sometimes being happy by yourself seems like an impossible task. It is having a constant need to be there for everyone but yourself. It is – as crazy as this sounds – feeling as if you aren’t allowed to be depressed [...] You have to be the person people gravitate towards to when they want to have a good time."

smoking: mostly in the past drugs: in the past and here's to hoping it stays there alcohol: in the past: drank a lot and often during her teenage/boarding school years. started drinking way less after that and was primarily a social drinker, but enjoyed a glass of wine every other meal. currently: keeps telling herself she'll have just one or two glasses but ends up drinking the whole bottle. when she's feeling down, it helps her stay bubbly, like people are used to see her. tattoos: pretty much always covered. 1 dainty lavender tattoo under her left breast, 1 small conch shell on the inside of her left arm style: enjoys looking stylish but values comfort above all else. doesn't follow fashion trends but enjoys playing with styles. has worn pant suits, bowties, and ties to several events. she often opts for comfortable flats (even trainers when she was younger) when wearing long dresses that cover her feet.  secret: she’s the reason her brother, the king, is in a coma

personality

sociable, bubbly, energetic, romantic, intuitive, impulsive, kind, compassionate, audacious, youthful, low-key very sad and depressed, curious, passionate, slightly air-headed, well meaning, romantic, at times speaks without thinking, used to be very gullible growing up, insecure, authentic, bad liar, self-deprecating (esp in the past couple years)

BIO (tw: death, drugs):

[ for carlota’s full / proper bio + more in-depth explanations, please click here & check the ‘biography’ tab.]

for nearly half a decade before carlota’s father was born, instability was the norm in portugal. carlota’s father was born just as the conflict was drawing to an end and he   spent his whole life honoring his father’s hard work, heavily focusing on diplomacy, and being slightly ( but understandably ) paranoid about the safety of his family.

like his parents, carlota’s father was fortunate to marry out of love. carlota’s mother isn’t portuguese ( she's a hungarian princess ) nor was she supposed to have become henrique’s wife, but the two had been in love almost since they first met when they were teenagers. at court, some never fully accepted terezia, still, the pair was very happy together. 

carlota’s family was always very close-knit and kinda nosy about each other’s business. she has always enjoyed this greatly as she’s a family and people-person, but at times it felt suffocating, even when she was only a child. 

carlota’s innate almost child-like passion and curiosity for life as well as her good-humored casual demeanor have always been both a blessing and a curse and often landed into trouble. she’s well-meaning, always, but sometimes speaks without thinking or acts impulsively. she’s a little bit air-headed and selfish in this manner, and her emotions and feelings often control her more than she controls them. 

still, she has three older brothers with very strong personalities so from a very early age she’s been trying to keep up with them and showing them that girls can do everything boys can. she’s never been rebellious or assertive by nature, although she likes to make bold choices and statements at times, but having a lot of brothers just forced those sides of her to develop. 

when she was 8, shortly after her youngest brother was born her mother passed away - this was carlota’s first heartbreak  

carlota’s relationship with her father was always...... not complicated, but perhaps filled with misunderstandings and good intentions gone wrong. he kept her at bay a lot because carlota has her mother’s demeanor, and he worried immensely about her future. her father always felt like out of all his children carlota was going to be the one who was going to struggle the most with an arranged marriage so he was always pressuring her to focus on her romantic life in a serious manner which carlota often found bothersome. 

in her teens carlota felt very isolated and out of place. surrounded by people but all alone. that's how she felt.

annnnnnd then her father sent her to boarding school which was never supposed to have happened but he changed his mind thinking it was the best for carlota (spoiler alert - it wasn’t)

carlota was extremely upset and sad over this. being apart from her family and friends she had known all her life brought her great pain and frustration.  she also couldn’t understand her father’s change of heart, and a part of her felt like she had done something deeply wrong. honestly she felt kind of abandoned. 

these years were somewhat tumultuous, especially because she wasn’t making the right kind of friends - the ones that are good for you. this lead her to have made several questionable life choices. she also got in the habit of drinking too much and doing drugs (she never officially went to rehab but she was very close to and she honestly probably should have gone even if only to really file this chapter of her life away).

all of this is, mostly, behind her thought. it took years but she realised she was fostering unhealthy friendships and habits and that the longer it took her to walk away the harder it would become to do so at all. eventually she cut them all out of her life. 

( “what is it with you and your uncontrollable need to be liked?” one of her acquaintances from boarding school asked her once, and she was already a little drunk, so the words didn’t hit her as hard as they normally would have. her shoulders simply rose and fell in a lazy shrug. “i don’t know.” it had been an honest answer, she kept talking anyway, no filter between her thoughts and her mouth. “i guess i - well, i've never been the pretty one, or the smart one, or the brooding one, or the bold one, or the funny one... but i’ve always been good at meeting people so i guess... i guess very early on i just thought ‘maybe i can be the likable one’.” )

her father died of heart decease when she was 21. she always got along with her eldest brother and the two became even closer after their father’s death, however, a couple months before the summit carlota thought she wouldn’t be participating as she had been seeing someone, but the boy ended up deciding that they were better off parting ways. it was all very last minute and out of the blue and he did it via text and she didn’t take the news well in the least so she ended up resorting to finding comfort in bad old habits and companies.

her brother grew increasingly worried and one day the two had a quarrel in the palace’s foyer after carlota showed up to dinner so merrily out of it she could barely stand. at one point he tried to reach for her but she pushed him away - once, twice, trice, and on the forth time he lost his balance and fell down the long imposing staircase.

she was so inebriated that it took her brain moment to register what had happened but once it dawned on her she was immediately struck by a wave of frantic panic and promptly made her way down the staircase ( nearly tripping on her own feet and tumbling down multiple times ). her brother was still conscious when she reached him, falling on her knees by his side, already crying and apologizing. the last thing he told her was to leave so no one would blame her for what had happened. 

carlota is not an agitator. she’s not pro nor against the summit. she dislikes the idea of spending her life with a stranger or someone who won’t love her, but above that at the moment she simply feels a great weight of responsibility towards her brother and is just trying to do what he wanted her to. she’s going with the flow in a dutiful manner, trying to always be on her best behaviour, while at the same time trying to stay as true to herself as possible. 

at the moment, she almost likes that things are being figured out for her. it goes against her usual demeanor, but she has so much on her mind and feels so much guilt that anything that figures out her responsibilities for her is welcome. frankly, she’s walking towards a big depression, but depression isn’t something she has ever experienced before and personally doesn’t think it’s something she herself could experience.   

i want SO MANY THINGS for carlota. good and bad. i want positive character development, i want negative character development. i want to break her and put her together again. i want her to grow, learn, and face past mistakes... and maybe make new ones. 

i’m all about extensive plotting, and i’m in things for the long run, so throw all the ideas at me.

WANTED CONNECTIONS 

FAMILY

siblings  - ill be posting her family request here.

cousins: carlota’s mother wasn’t portuguese, she was likely german, hungarian, belgian, austrian, english, or french. so if your character is from one of those countries and you’d be up for them being related to carlota let me know!!!

ON GOOD TERMS

(open) best friend: someone carlota is very close to at the moment  

(open) childhood friend(s): someone carlota has known pretty much all of her life  

(open) accidental friendship: carlota and this person weren’t supposed to get along because of their personalities but instead of clashing, to everyone’s surprise, they compliment each other nicely  

(open) “a boy tried to make us compete for his attention so we ditched him and became close friends”: self-explanatory lmao i’d love for them to be super close. or maybe he was dating the girl and tried to fool around with carlota so she told the other girl and she dumped and him and her and carlota became close friends. many options.  

(open) exes on good terms: i love this trope - two people who dated but who are still friendly (and possibly super close) 

(open) one time date (positive): carlota and this person went on a date/found themselves on a date but quickly figured out they’d be better off as friends, and they are 

ON BAD TERMS OR IFFY

(open) the guy who ditched her: carlota didn't think she would be participating in the summit as she was beginning to develop a relationship with someone. whether they were officially seeing each other/dating or not is open, but around four months ago he ended what they had, momentarily leaving carlota in a really bad place. i left this super open and vague on purpose, i would love to plot it with whoever takes him.

(open) the boy from the “a boy tried to make us compete for his attention so we ditched him and became close friends” connection: self-explanatory lmao  

(open) betrothal’s romantic interest: i’d obviously love for carlota and her betrothal to be end game (like, romantically, not just being married for appearances) but i’m also big on stuff taking its time and i’d love for her betrothal’s to have a romantic interest (even if it’s onesided and he’s not interested in her - altho he can be obviously). above all, i just want a scene like this one lmao

(open) clashed from the start: clarlota and this person never got along (open)

(open) former teenage-hood friends: carlota and these people used to be close when they were teenagers but aren’t anymore. 

(open) former best friend: carlota and this person used to be very close but something happened that drove them apart. maybe they were part of the same group of friends and when carlota suddenly started bailing on and not wanting to be associated with them the former best friend felt used and betrayed, like they were had only been a “party” friend to carlota 

(open) exes on bad terms: self explanatory  

(open) one time date (negative): carlota and this person went on a date/found themselves on a date and it went awful 

(open) toxic romance: 

NEUTRAL OR UNCLEAR

betrothal: i’d obviously love for carlota and her betrothal to be end game (like, romantically, not just being married for appearances) but obvs that’s not mandatory. his personality is completely open, honestly do with him whatever you wish i just ask that he’s not a very artsy person. as a suggestion, i’d love for his secret to be something like he has toddler from a past fling/relationship, or even if that’s not his secret i honestly just like the idea of him having a secret or not so secret kid. fc suggestions for him are: michiel huisman, bob morley, oliver jackson cohen, and santiago cabrera.

(open) star-crossed: carlota and this character have, or had, feelings for each other but for whatever reason their relationship just can’t work out.  

(open) met in a bar: : this could have happened when they were kids/teens or recently. carlota and this royal met in a bar without knowing of each other’s backgrounds.  

(open) push and pull: : there’s flirtation and mutual interest… and there’s also a lot of annoyance.  

(open) bonded over doing smth they shouldn’t: this could have happened when they were kids/teens or recently. carlota and this person were caught (or nearly caught) doing something they shouldn’t be doing (such as sneaking out or sneaking back in)… individually. it was a chance encounter and their first meeting & can go many ways.  

(open) flirtation: (open)

(open) accidental bonding: this person accidentally confided something in carlota, whether because they were drunk/tipsy, or simply completely saturated and needed to vent. 

(open) betrothal’s ex: id honestly love for carlota to meet an ex of her betrothal and they get along super well. i have several ideas for this tbh but yeah!!