#ALSO WAS NO ONE GONNA REMIND ME CHARLES FUCKING INITIALS

[modpoppy]

gonna make my self insert a proper oc probably i gotta come up with a wacky name hmm hmm

[reddeadreference]

Blog Progress Update (Travel Blog Style? #16)

I forgot to shave before passing out in the street… damn it.. 

Also I love (and hate) the idea that this guy just found me in the street and decided to DRAG me to the doctors (or maybe he just dragged me out of the middle of the road… cause he does try to get Arthur to wake up and the doc isn't far from where we fell over)

"Not good news" Yep here come the water works.

I made a gif, i’m sure there’s a bunch of these out there of this but I made one anyway..

I'm sure the game didn't think I would actually choose to leave the horses after taking the canoe up river and actually WALK all the way to the cave judging by how Arthur and Charles were yelling despite walking a foot apart. 

But guess what game, I just needed to take a long walk through spooky woods with my boy, the only guy (okay one of two cause John counts but he's not here right now) that has my damn back in this damn camp. 

It was actually rather relaxing… if I didn't think about where we're going or where we were or the fact that Arthur is DYING (I'm not okay)

Damn it the last mission in chapter 5 is just full of so many "oh shit" moments where I remember or hear a line that reminds me what's about to happen. Bringing Meredith home I almost started crying, hearing Molly I had to pause and take breath first… this game is so well done to provoke emotions like this even after years and knowing what’s coming

Oof and the music "I did… I told them!" And the music just gets so much darker and dramatic and UGH I don't like this pain. Yelling at my screen "no she didn't! She's drunk! Susan no!!!" DX but fuck man… she's so heartbroken she's lying so he'll shoot her and/or she's lying cause she knows it'll hurt him cause he’s hurt her… I hate it. 

The fact that Molly didn't get a fucking grave and that they didn't bury her but burned her… I know they didn't know… but she deserved better… and the fact that the chapter screen pops up on that image…

Chapter 6: loads in

Me: I hate it here...

Dutch is giving a speech… does he even realize NO ONE is looking at him. Like for his other speeches he had people stop and turn to look or walk over to listen… I think everyone has realized his speeches are just the same. He'd throw himself in the ground in their stead. Yeah, we got it Dutch…

Basically saying pick his side… dude there shouldn't be sides in the first place. You're a self fulfilling prophecy my man… 

Also seeing how the list in my “people” folder for camp stuff keeps getting shorter just HURTS

I am excited about doing Bronte's house's post. Dude has his fucking initials on his damn wallpaper xD

I think you can go inside it in Red Dead Online so I might go back for some more photos (it was very annoying to angle the shots I did take so bodies weren't in frame) if not I can just replay the mission.

Might have to see if I can go into the Mayor's house too cause the party doesn't really let you wander in there unless Luca is with you or you're sneaking

Apparently you have to use a wagon to get to the second floor then go through a window… well this’ll be interesting… just hope I don’t get a session with a lot of players in Saint Denis… ugh I wish it was like GTA V online where you have private lobbies. I hate going onto RDO alone cause I always run into assholes who just wanna kill npcs and players for fun. Well, I will ‘document’ my online adventure as Evangeline (my online OC) who looks like Ciri from Witcher 3 and her Missouri fox trotter Trevor.

Well I found a wagon immediately but it had an open back so i couldn’t climb onto it… now i’m waiting on the either side of a bridge for a good wagon… If i had a trader wagon that might work but I don't… wait... O_O Target acquired.

*Hacker voice* I’m in.

Obviously these photos won’t be as clear cause I can’t turn off blur on the 1st person view thing… Gonna do the same kinda thing I did with the Braithwaite manor post where there is a lil mini map to show which room it is. Gonna make a separate post for the garden in back… and honestly… probably have to make a separate post for each floor… I took a lot of photos...

So yeah that might be the next thing to come out cause I really wanna get that up.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

[1kook]

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

“You needn’t worry longer, baby,” Jeongguk interrupts, and the loud smack of a hardcover against the desk catches your attention. There lies Jeongguk’s Captain Underpants book, alongside the paperback copy of Beloved that has definitely seen better days.

You furrow your brows. “When did you check out this one?” You question, checking the spine to make sure the book belongs to your library. Much to your surprise, there’s no barcode on the side, and no stamp on the inside.

Your question goes unanswered as Jeongguk jumps into a full-length novella recapture of the hot frat party he’d been to last weekend, and how the Zeta Theta Psi guys knew how to party. That Jimin fellow that Jeongguk frequently mentions had apparently snorted a line of coke off their friend Seokjin’s broad shoulders just to prove his friend had godly proportions. It’s weird, but Jeongguk says it’s because you have to ride for your bros. You try to act uninterested, but Jeongguk’s a funny guy, really, and you can only hide so many chuckles with the sound of a stamp.

He’s in the middle of trying to cover up of one of his frequent trysts after accidentally exposing himself—”Don’t get it twisted, baby, I just took her upstairs to call her friend.”—when Namjoon comes out of the back room looking for you. He barely glances at your guest, before handing you a list of overdue books.

“Would you mind calling these people?” He asks, voice soft, just as everything else was about Namjoon. “They’re all a week past.”

“Yikes,” you say, eyes scanning over the list. Surprisingly, Jeongguk is still there, hovering over you as if waiting for you to dismiss him. “Do you mind, Jeon?” You say, channeling your best customer service voice. As much as Namjoon was wary of him, he still considered Jeongguk a patron in your establishment and hated to see him treated poorly, no matter how many library rules Jeongguk broke.

“Of course,” he sighs, and you miss the hostile glare he throws Namjoon when you whirl around for a highlighter. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says when you turn back around, stretching ana rm in your direction.

Half of you knows exactly what he’ll do, but the other half of you, the one trying desperately to act like his advances have no effect on you, have you placing your palm in his. You’re not super surprised when he tugs your hand upward, pecking your knuckles with a flirty wink. “Adios, Juliet,” he smirks.

“Wrong language,” you inform him, rolling your eyes nonchalantly even though your heart is beating one hundred miles per second. Jeongguk cackles, loud as all hell in the silent library, before making his exit.

It’s silent for all of twenty seconds before Namjoon jumps right into it. “So are you seeing him, or…” he interrogates, trying to act like he’s hardly interested, but you’ve known and worked alongside Namjoon long enough to know he’s secretly the community gossip.

You ignore him, choosing to jam the buttons on the phone instead.

The weird thing about Jeongguk, was that, although he was notoriously known amongst the undergraduates (and even some graduates, because he just had it like that, you suppose) as one of the biggest fuckboys, he was different. Not to sound like every teen romcom you’d ever scanned, but he genuinely was. For starters, he’d fuck your brains out and then make you his best friend the morning after. He definitely had a very peculiar, and backwards, way of doing the whole one night stand thing.

All this you’ve gathered from your friends, who, at one point have had some sort of encounter with Jeongguk. Dahyun’s was last spring at a club event, when he’d oh so smoothly flirted with her for a solid hour before realizing she didn’t swing that way. Which is how they become close friends, which is how, by association, Jeongguk set his sights on you.

Your introduction to Jeongguk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he’d been tagging along behind Dahyun like a lost puppy, begging her for some class notes, and had subsequently followed her all the way to your favorite meeting place. From then, he’d dropped his petulant, childish act and put on his macho face, chest puffed and eyes hooded as he devoured your very presence.

The next time you see him, it’s at a frat party where some guy had been harping on you go upstairs with him. Another weird thing about Jeongguk, he hated when other fuckboys didn’t utilize their brains. You assume it’s because it gives the fuckboy community a bad rep as a whole, but Jeongguk hated when guys were overbearing. So he’d taken the initiative to snatch you away from that fellow, guiding you all the way back to Dahyun and friends just to make sure you were alright. Somewhere along the way, you’d informed him you worked at the local library—”The one that does bingo on Tuesdays?” “That’s for senior citizens only, why do you know that?”—and he’d never left you alone again.

This time, he spots you in the dining hall.

“You come here often, dollface?” He says the moment he slides up beside you, instantly zeroing in on the burrito wrap on your plate. Like the little immature baby he is, his hand immediately snakes out to touch the precariously wrapped white tortilla holding the deliciousness inside, and you have to physically slap the offender away. He jumps, bumping into a girl standing in line behind him, not that particularly cares. “So, it’s fuck Jeongguk hours, huh?” He huffs, adorning his face with that uppity glare he mastered from watching Mean Girls on repeat a few months ago.

“Your plate is stacked, but you wanna grab the one thing on mine,” you point out, and his lips curl into a smile at your response. “By the way, your book is past due.”

At this he gasps, all real, no Regina George effects added. “You’re lying,” he chokes, switching his plate to his other hand, and you nearly jump when the muffin balancing dangerously on top shifts. He tugs his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, scanning through his remind app until he sees that his book is overdue by three days. He groans, staring at the ceiling in shame.

You nod, breezing over his inner meltdown. “Was wondering when we were gonna get the wedgie winner, or whatever its called, back.”

He scoffs, giving you an unimpressed glare. “Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman,” he corrects, looking so disappointed that you don’t have these bizarre titles memorized. “For such a pretty librarian, you sure are ignorant to these literary masterpieces.”

This makes you cackle, and your cheeks flush when at least three people turn to stare at your outburst. “You aren’t seriously calling these Captain Underpants books masterpieces,” you snort. Jeongguk shrugs, and you begin to wonder if he really is as airheaded as the characters he admires. “Jeon,” you try to reason, giving him a pleading look, because arguing the credibility of kids novels in line for lunch simply does not seem real. You must have been warped into another dimension where all pretty boys are as dumb as the movies make them out to seem.

“Listen,” he says, smiling when you grow desperate for him to prove you wrong. “I’ve read a lot of good books, but nothing tops a hypnotized superhero principal fighting crime in his underwear.”

You sigh, paying for your meal, and then, surprisingly, waiting for him to pay for his. You tell yourself it’s because you want to finish this conversation, but part of you just genuinely enjoys being in Jeongguk’s presence. Gag.

“I saw you with Beloved last week,” you carry on the second he’s done giving flirty eyes to the middle-aged cashier. “Now that’s a masterpiece.”

He nods in agreement. “But, baby,” he purrs, and the sudden switch from weird, 12 year-old literary enthusiast to grown as hell, suave bastard has you jolting a step that you try to play off by pretending to look at something on the ground. “How else will you remember my face?”

You blank. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Jeongguk gives you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t remember a damn thing about me if I did what every other stuck-up bastard did trying to pick up chicks at the library.” You tilt your head in confusion. Jeongguk sighs. “If I went in every rainy Friday and checked out a Tale of Two Cities, or Oliver Twist, or some other Charles Dickens shit, you wouldn’t glance my way.”

“Do people still read Dickens?” You say instead, glossing over the fact that apparently Jeongguk’s visits were apparently blatant attempts to flirt with girls. Finally, you find a suitable spot at a long, dinner table so you don’t have to sit completely alone with Jeongguk.

“You know damn well better than I do that that those wannabe sophisticated books have waitlists.” He shoves half a pizza slice into his mouth, and you hate how your eyes immediately laser in on the strong movements of his jaw. “My point is,” he says through a greasy mouthful. “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”

You cradle your burrito in your palms, rolling his words around your head for a bit. Jeongguk doesn’t particularly seem like he’s awaiting an answer, munching through the mountain of food on his plate as you revel in your thoughts.

It’s right when you go to take your first bite that you finally come to a conclusion. “But have you ever considered I’m interested in you because I think you’re funny?”

Silence. Jeongguk stares at you through his fringe, pizza slice slowly going limp in his hold as he absorbs your words. Before you know it, his ears flush red. He splutters. “I-You think I’m funny?” He asks, cheeks slowly growing rosy as well, and his lips quirk in a cute way to the side, as if he’s trying desperately to hide his excitement.

You nod, because it’s true, why would you lie? “Duh. You come in every week and just talk about your day, Jeongguk,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I think you’re very interesting and entertaining without trying.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, and for the first time, you’re thrown off by how adorable this man looks, lips pressed tight to contain a smile from your compliments.

Realization hits you all at once, but you’ve long since trained in the fluid art of avoiding your emotions.

“There’s a party tonight,” Dahyun announces from her desk, not even bothering to glance at you when you return from the showers. You hum, not really that interested in whatever is going on this fine Thursday evening. You plop down at your own desk, starting your skincare routine.

Dahyun lets you relax in the soothing motions of self care for all of three seconds before she adds, “Jeongguk wanted to know if you’re coming.”

You press down too hard on the pump of your moisturizer, sending a large glomp onto the tips of your fingers. “That’s nice,” you say, trying to play it off, but you doubt Dahyun hadn’t heard the little spaz you had, or that she couldn’t sense the way your body immediately lit aflame at the mention of him and you in the same sentence.

She turns in her seat, and you catch sight of her in your mirror. You avert your eyes right away, because Dahyun had many talents, and her best one was reading your mind with a single gaze. You maintain an aura of unbothered and uninterested, finishing with the rest of your skincare.

Just when you think you’re safe, Dahyun pounces.

“Y’know,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “He hasn’t slept with anyone in almost a month. In fuckboy time, that’s the equivalent of two years.”

You roll your eyes, putting away your products before trying to busy yourself with anything else. “He probably has, but with people who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Faintly, you hear Dahyun’s chair scrape against the carpet, and then suddenly she has you in a headlock. “Admit you like Jeongguk or I will throw your toothbrush into the toilet on the third floor.”

You choke, grappling her arms in an attempt to pry her off. “No,” you huff, switching tactics to tangle a hand in her silver locks. “Why would I confess to something that isn’t true?”

She shrieks when you give a sharp tug, sending her careening sideways against the foot of your bed, but not without taking you with her. “You are lying to yourself and to the entire librarian community, you sick fuck.”

You snort. “The fuck does Namjoon have to do with this?”

“He told me Jeongguk’s been bringing you Starbucks.”

Her reveal has you halting in your tracks, cheeks flushing at being exposed. “That gossiping fuck,” you seethe, finally loosening your grip on your friend. Somehow, you’ve ended up sprawled on the floor of her side of the room, nestled into the stupidly fluffy carpet she thrifted. She rolls onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows to narrow her eyes at you.

“So it’s true,” she sighs. You shrug. “Well,” she claps her hands together. “Shimmy into that sexy dress from Windsor, we’re going out.”

You groan, rolling over in metaphorical agony. “Dude, I just washed my face. No way in hell, I’m putting on makeup now.” She considers your point for negative three seconds.

“The Glow Kit is in my bottom left drawer,” she announces right as she exits the room with her towel and shower essentials in hand.

The Glow Kit is in fact in Dahyun’s drawer, which is a little suspicious considering it’s the same one you thought you lost three months ago. Nonetheless, it never lets you down, and by the time you’re done with your makeup, you’re looking like a shimmering, little succubus in the hot dress from Windsor.

Normally, you and your self-esteem were rivals; never on the same page, always bickering, sworn enemies from birth. But right now, as you admire yourself in the closet mirror, you can’t help but marvel at how good you look in the slightly loose dress.

“Damn,” Dahyun says as soon as she returns, all fluffy in her towel. “You will fuck tonight, or else.”

“Hey, baby,” Jeongguk smiles at you the moment you walk in, hooded eyes raking over your body in an agonizingly slow manner. Dahyun chooses then to do her party trick—disappearing without a word.

“Hi…” you respond, voice meek in this party setting. There’s more people than you anticipated, which is weird because it’s a Thursday and surely some of these people have morning classes. You can’t comment, though, because you’re here knowing damn well you have an eight am tomorrow.

The music is blasting, so loud you can feel the bass shaking the floor, sending jolts up from your toes to your head with every beat. There’s people in every crevice of this household, some even taking refuge on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Someone brushes by you, and you instinctively step closer to the wall to avoid being in the way. You should have known Jeongguk would follow.

He ducks down to shout into your ear. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight,” he tells you, right as one of his friends rushes by, thrusting a cup into his hand that Jeongguk doesn’t even stop to question. He takes a sip, then offers you some.

“Dahyun didn’t wanna come alone,” you lie, tentatively sipping from his cup only to realize it’s worse than any alcohol here: it’s Sprite. Jeongguk seems amused by your subtle disgust, immediately taking the cup back. You send out a light prayer for his stomach and his skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be out pulling hoes or something?” You say, trying to go for teasing and playful but missing by a mile.

Jeongguk grins. “Why would I do that when the only girl I want is right here,” he motions, and then does that cliche move where he places a hand by the wall behind you. The worst thing is, even though Jeongguk seems intent on pulling every cheesy act known to mankind, your heart actually races.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “you just like that I don’t charge you the late fees on your books.”

At this, Jeongguk genuinely smiles, nose scrunching up as he gazes at you. “False,” he argues, and then leans forward, same stupid dopey smile on his face. “I love a woman who snorts milk out of her nose.”

“Jeon!” You shriek, smacking his arm as embarrassment washes over you. “You said you would forget about that!”

Jeongguk cackles, all boyish and rough like he does when he’s around Hoseok for too long. Somehow, knowing you’re the cause of that charming laughter has your annoyance fading away, a soft smile crawling onto your features.

“I hate you,” you say instead, looking up and meeting his gaze dead on for the first time that night.

Jeongguk smirks. “Do you now?” He throws back, then takes a step forward. Your shoulder touches the wall when you take a tentative step back. You give a half-assed shrug, entranced by the playfulness that lurks behind his eyes. He gives you an exaggerated pout. “That sucks, because I,” he steps closer again, and this time he’s looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “really like you.”

“I…” you trail off, too hypnotized by the pink tongue that swipes across his lips as he gazes at you. There is no hesitation on his face.

When you don’t say anything for another moment, Jeongguk ducks down. His nose bumps against yours, his breath warm as it fans across your face. “Y’know, I’d treat you so right,” he suddenly says, and your panties immediately turn into Niagara Falls at the newfound deepness of his voice. You feel lightheaded from his close proximity and promising words. “Could make you feel so good, baby, if you just let me.”

You shiver, nearly jumping out of your skin when a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you forward gently. Not overbearingly, because you know the last thing Jeongguk would ever do was want to make you uncomfortable. He pulls you close enough that it ends up being you who steps completely into his embrace. Your trembling hands find their place on his shoulders, and Jeongguk has never looked more content.

“You... only want sex,” you softly accuse, and the only reason your quiet voice doesn’t get lost in the noise is because of how close the two of you are.

Jeongguk bites his lip at your words, and you wonder if part of him is surprised that you’d so openly say such a thing. “Not with you,” he says eventually. “Wanna hold you like this forever, ___. And if that leads to you cumming on my tongue every now and then, well,” he smiles, “all fine by me.”

“Jeon,” you scold, scared that someone might have heard him.

“What?” He grins, pressing impossibly closer. His lip gives the slightest pucker, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning closer, the hand around your waist tightening. “I want you, baby.”

You can’t hide the lovestruck expression on your face as you look between his mouth and his eyes, and you wonder if he’s being honest.

Right as you’re about to throw all your doubts out the window and kiss him, you’re bombarded with the sound of obnoxious air horns from a DJ who obviously knows shit about, well, DJ-ing.

You jump at the sudden sound, bumping your head against the wall behind you. Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He fusses, all traces of that suave, heartthrob replaced with a fretful Jeon.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re not because you’re absolutely dying right now. From the fact you almost gave into Jeongguk but also the embarrassment of hitting your head. “I-I need to find Dahyun,” you announce, and give Jeongguk no time to process that before you’re bolting into the crowded house like you just broke something.

jeon tell me you got home safe jeon please

You pause in the middle of removing your makeup, one eyelash on to symbolize the mess you are right now. Dahyun is humming some tune as she does the same, the both of you clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks. Carefully, you pick up your phone.

you im home! me and the girls ubered home lol you sorry i didnt get to say goodbye :(

jeon dont worry abt it babe jeon just happy to know ur ok

“You better be texting Jeongguk, since you failed to complete the one job you had tonight,” Dahyun calls and you curse. You whirl around to face her, and she snorts at your one eyelash.

“Be honest,” you say. “If you were the campus crush who could get coochie every time he breathed, would you leave all that for me?”

Dahyun freezes. “Well, not when you’re only wearing one eyelash.” You groan, flopping into your seat uncomfortably. “Babe,” Dahyun sighs, as if sensing the gravity of your dilemma. “You’re hot! Everyone knows this except you.”

“But am I?” You whine. “Am I attractive or do you just feel obligated to say that because you’re my friend, be honest.”

“Oh my god,” she huffs, climbing into her bed, phone in hand. She doesn’t even bother looking your way when she’s all settled in. “You have this weird idea that Jeongguk is some intangible idol, as if you haven’t seen the dude deepthroat an entire bratwurst at the diversity fair. If anything, you’re the dream girl on campus, you stupid bitch.”

“The only true thing I heard is me being a stupid bitch,” you mope, and Dahyun throws a pillow at your face. You take this attack as initiative to finally take off your other lash, finishing your cleansing and moisturizing (for the second time) routine.

“Listen,” she says, setting her phone down to stare you dead in the eye. Her voice is devoid of any emotion. “If it makes you feel better, he wrote JK + __ on our group handout last week.”

You don’t sleep that night.

The last person you’re expecting to see at this secluded cafe on a Saturday morning was Jeon Jeongguk, yet here he was in all his delicious morning glory. By morning glory, you mean the soft, sleepy eyes that stare at you from across the table, voice so deep and husky.

“Why are you here if you just woke up?” You interrogate, settling into the empty seat in front of him. Carefully, you begin pulling things out of your bag, trying your best to not look away too long. This sight was rare, Jeongguk usually being at an energy level of about eighty seven at all times. To see him so tired and sluggish was unheard of.

He gestures over to where Taehyung is in the middle of what looks like a job interview. “Moral support,” Jeongguk informs you. You nod in understanding, before returning your gaze to the sleepy angel in front of you.

He’s ridiculously tired, eyes dropping shut every time you so much as pause for a second. He seems apologetic too, murmuring I’m sorry I’m sorry whenever his eyes flutter shut. Your heart was going haywire at the sight. “Jeon,” you say softly, and get one, soft hum in response. “I think you should go home, Taehyung seems fine.”

He shakes his head. “Needs me,” he murmurs, trying desperately to snap his eyes back open to no avail. Eventually, you make the call, packing your things up way earlier than usual. You haul Jeongguk out of his seat, him sleepily trailing after you as you drag him out of the shop. He sleeps on the short bus ride back to campus, and even almost sleeps on the elevator up to his dorm.

“In we go,” you announce, unlocking his door before nudging him inside. His roommate is nowhere to be found, oddly enough given the early hour. Jeongguk stumbles inside, plopping down on his bed right away. “Sleep.”

He lets out a high pitched whine the moment you turn to leave. “Come cuddle,” he huffs, face pressed against his pillow. His hair’s haloed around him, pout smushed against the cushion as he stares at you.

“You need to sleep,” you point out.

He rolls onto his back, patting the mattress beside him. “Wanna feel you,” he says. Your cheeks flush red. As if realizing the meaning behind his words, sleepy little Jeongguk takes the initiative to push you further. “Pressed against my body,” he drawls, his deep chuckle resonating throughout your body. “C’mon, baby, too scared to be in bed with me?”

You scoff, though your cheeks are warm. “You wouldn’t do anything anyway, you’re half asleep.”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips quirking to the side as he motions to his side again. “So? Can tell you like it slow anyway,” he grunts, before sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed and assuming a sitting position. Without warning, he catches your wrist in his hand and tugs you between his spread thighs.

He’s more awake than he’s been all morning, and part of you is happy but the other is anxious. God, was this boy dangerous.

“You’re half asleep, Jeon,” you say, trying to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. Jeongguk smiles up at you.

“Cmon, baby,” he exhales, and one fluid tug has you plopping onto his thigh. You startle at the sudden change, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. All he does is laugh some more, nuzzling his face against your neck as your heart goes into panic mode. “Bet I could get in so deep,” he murmurs, breath tickling your neck and you feel your legs turn to jelly.

“G-Gguk,” you try to warn, but it ends up sounding more like a plea. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

A sudden kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder has your spirit ascending into another plane. Jeongguk smiles at your pliant body. “Look at you,” he continues, kissing down your neck until your body is physically quivering. “So sensitive. No one ever touched you like this before, doll?”

You shake your head no, and nearly jump out of your own skin when a hand clasps onto the inside of your thigh. “Jeon, we shouldn’t…” you choke out, even though your traitorous hand clamps down on his and pushes it closer to where you need him most.

“We shouldn’t?” He teases, and then cups your sex.

You transcend.

Jeongguk laughs, airy chuckles fanning across your jaw. “Then stop,” he tells you, the both of you watching as your hips unconsciously grind into his palm. Even when you tell yourself you need to stop, your body feels heavenly being touched by him, so you physically can’t.

“I can’t,” you reiterate, and muffle a moan against the side of his face when he presses a finger down on where he knows your clit is hiding. The thin leggings you’d worn did nothing to spare you.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs, watching you work yourself on his hand. He traces his index finger over the seam of your leggings, where your folds meet and you moan again. “You gonna let me finish you off, princess? Gonna let me finger your tight little pussy until you cry? But I bet you’d make the prettiest noises if I licked you down there. Or are you gonna cum in your panties like this?”

All the different ideas he stuffs into your brain are overwhelming, especially when the only thing you really want is to be stuffed with his fingers and cock. “J-Just do it,” you beg.

“Do what?” He plays, watching the way your face contorted with every brush against your mound.

“Whatever you want,” you cry, biting down on your fist to stop any more noises from spilling out.

Jeongguk smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Such a simple gesture, but it has your stomach somersaulting. God, you needed this. You were practically sobbing for his dick, which was embarrassing in itself, but actually getting dicked down sort of cancelled it out. PEMDAS or whatever. 

Just as his hand creeps to the hem of your leggings, there’s a rattle of the doorknob, and you jump. The cloud of lust that had engulfed you two fades away and you’re suddenly aware of the jingling of a key outside.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, looking absolutely scandalized that his roommate is coming home at this moment of all moments.

“Should I hide?” You whisper back, never having been in such a situation before. Jeongguk looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just,” he sighs, standing up. He ruffles his hair anxiously. “Just… act natural.”

You sit perfectly still. “Not like a Sim!!”

“Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds),” you read, gasping for breath by the end of it. Jeongguk beams at you. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, leaning over the counter and watching as you scan his book under his name. “I’ll let you know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, writing down the return date on a piece of paper you stuff inside. “Please do, I’m absolutely dying to read this book.”

You hand the book over to Jeongguk, and try to ignore the way he stares at you for a second too long. Namjoon chooses this exact moment to take his lunch break, sauntering off whistling the the Angry Birds tune.

Right before Jeongguk can jump into an interrogation, the door swings open and Jisoo from your sociology elective saunters in, carrying the same mountain of books you had checked out for her two weeks ago.

“___, hi!” She exclaims right away. She, too, was infected with the same bimbo disease as Jeongguk, the one where they both had no concept of being quiet in a library.

“Hi,” you greet back, immediately standing to take the books from her. “Did you actually read through all of these?” You ask, trying to make polite small talk. You’re not particularly close to her, but it’d be rude to act like you didn’t know her.

She laughs at your comment. “Oh god, no. I just open random pages and reference them for essays,” she admits.

You try to make more small talk with her as you scan through her books, but the girl literally almost hit the material limit, which is fifty books, so you soon become consumed in scanning the barcode, briefly flipping through the book for any damage, and then repeating it all over. You’re not surprised when she drifts away, and you’re mentally cursing Namjoon for going on break now of all times.

It’s about ten minutes later when you’re all done, the computer’s library system going haywire on you, the same way it had when she first checked out all these books. You look away from the screen, standing to face Jisoo, only to find she’s drifted to the other end of the welcome desk, where a certain someone had gone to while you served her.

Oh.

You’re not anticipating the wave of jealousy that hits you watching gorgeous, smart Jisoo talk to Jeongguk. She matches him perfectly, both so beautiful it hurts. It’s when she says something to him that you snap out of it. “When can I come over again?” Soft enough that you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t been paying attention.

Jeongguk’s toying with a bookmark stand, but you still see the quirk of his lips on his face when she says that.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, so close yet somehow miles away as he says something back to her that gets drowned out by the thundering of your heart. You suppose it’s only natural for a guy like Jeongguk to flirt with girls, and he’d never said he only, exclusively wanted you. Really, you shouldn’t be as surprised.

But you are.

You’re surprised and, dare you say it, discouraged by the scene. He’d been so eager to finally win you over the other night, so much so that he made you feel special with every word he uttered and every look he gave you. You’d almost believed in his sincerity, but seeing him so easily converse with Jisoo about whatever past they have, served as a cold reminder that you and Jeongguk believe in two completely different relationship styles.

So you sit back down, gnawing on your lip as you try to do other duties, clicking around uselessly on your computer until eventually, Jisoo wanders back.

“Am I all set?” She smiles, and you can’t even find it in you to dislike her. You plaster on your best customer service smile, nodding and handing her back her library card. She thanks you three times over for the hassle, before waving goodbye to you and Jeongguk.

When the door falls shut behind her, you immediately drop the facade, though Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice. “Whew. She left a lot of work for you,” he laughs, eyeing the big stack beside you. You don’t even bother responding, as, at that moment, Namjoon returns from his lunch break.

(How convenient! You swear this fucker had a sixth sense for knowing when work was about to become hard.)

“Joon, I’m taking my break now,” you announce, and Namjoon stares at you like a deer in headlights, the last bite of a sandwich raised to his mouth.

“Uh,” he says, 140 IQ and all. He glances behind you at Jeongguk, who also is confused as all hell. “Okay, then.”

“___?” Jeongguk questions. You stalk off, pushing the gate away from the desk before bursting into the employee break room right across from it.

You cry the moment you get home, and Dahyun jumps ten feet out of her bed in shock. Her girlfriend, Momo, is sitting on the floor painting her toes. “Oh no,” she cries, sweet and understanding in all the ways Dahyun wasn’t. “My poor baby, what’s wrong?” She asks, waddling over in the my-nail-polish-hasn’t-dried-yet way to hug you.

“He was flirting with another girl,” you sob, dropping your bag by the door as Momo continues fawning over you, wiping your face with tissues. Dahyun gets out of bed, cracks her fingers, and promptly announces:

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Initially, you would have let her. But after a while you manage to calm down, loud Kim Kardashian sobs fading into tiny hiccups as the two of them coddle you. You tell them all about what terrible, good for nothing Jeongguk did, and in true female solidarity, they vow to kick his ass for you. Eventually, you settle on not whooping his ass, just cutting any romantic notions with him off to avoid further heartbreak. After all, you were kinda friends before you had your little crush revelation.

It’s later in the night when you announce you maybe got 2% over him, which the girls count as an absolute win, but then Jeongguk texts you and they groan at the way you jump for your phone.

jeon hey can we talk ? jeon did I do something wrong today? jeon felt like u were mad at me lol, and then u took a really long break and I had to leave for class so I didn’t even get to see u again jeon just wanna know if everything is ok

You read through the messages a couple times, and wonder if he’s being serious and didn’t see anything sus with his actions, or if he’s just toying with your emotions. Momo tugs Dahyun away to give you some sort of privacy, and then you’re left alone in your thoughts.

you everything’s fine ! you I just wasn’t feeling well lol

He responds right away.

jeon please don’t lie to me ___ jeon I know what you’re probably thinking and I just want to say it’s not like that

For some reason, him saying he knows you enough to know your thoughts irritates you. He obviously didn’t know shit about you if he was out here making you look like a clown. Your fingers type before you can even think.

you lmao you thats funny

jeon ?

you you most def do not know what I’m thinking so please just take my word when I say I felt sick

jeon lmao. what do you mean...

you you barely know ME besides the fact I work @ the library and dorm w Dahyun. don't say u know what I’m thinking, bc that would imply you know me on a closer level which you don’t

jeon ok seriously what's up with you?  jeon im trying to make sure ur okay but ur just being difficult as fuck

you I’m not being difficult I’m just being real

jeon ur not tho, ur being defensive for no reason at all

you so? we’re barely friends and we barely know each other, how I feel is none of ur business

jeon lmfaoooo, so now we’re barely friends?

you thats what I said didnt I

You set your phone aside when you don’t immediately see the texting dots appear, assuming your dry response is probably enough to ward Jeongguk off. Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from frustration or anger, but you guess it’s both. You’re not sure what set you off, the fact Jeongguk wants to act like he knows you, as if he wasn’t just chasing after you for some pussy, or the fact he wanted to act like some all-knowing being when it came to your feelings.

Eitherway, you’re extremely heated, grinding your teeth together when five minutes pass and he hasn’t texted you back. As if sensing the tension, Momo and Dahyun abruptly announce that they’re going to the ice cream place down the street, offering to bring something back to which you decline.

They leave, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. You get exactly two seconds of peace and quiet before your phone starts going off like crazy, all from Jeongguk.

jeon you’re starting to piss me off jeon drop the attitude baby. jeon bc I can be just as mean as u jeon and I won’t hesitate to make you cry

You blink. Every ounce of your body that had been consumed with an unknown anger slowly fades away as you stare wide eyed at Jeongguk’s messages. This was nothing like the Jeongguk you knew; he was soft and playful. He never raised his voice at you, and he’d never been anything less than a sweetheart.

you I don’t have an attitude

Is your feeble reply, too scared to reply to any other part of his message because you truly had no experience with this Jeongguk.

jeon so then put your big girl pants on and tell me what’s wrong jeon enough w this other shit

You sigh, snuggling into your covers as you absentmindedly tap the back of your phone.

you nothing is wrong

He doesn’t reply for a couple minutes again, but Dahyun sends you a text letting you know her and Momo decided to go to an event on the other side of campus, and telling you not to wait up. You reply back a simple ok right as Jeongguk responds.

jeon ok. so let me tell you what’s wrong then jeon you’re mad bc I was speaking to Jisoo today and she asked abt coming over jeon she comes over all the time jeon bc she is my roommates girlfriend

Your mind goes blank.

How embarrassing to have your mind read word for word, even more so when apparently, your worries weren’t even plausible. God. Instantly you feel stupid, replaying today’s entire scene and trying desperately to find something to catch Jeongguk in a lie. But other than asking that one question, there had been no other interesting talk between the two.

Your phone pings again, and you scramble to type a response, only to freeze at the words on the screen

jeon what blows me is that i don’t even owe u shit especially not an explanation jeon u don’t give 2 flying fucks about me. U just like the attention I give u and watching me make a fool of myself for u jeon I bend over backwards chasing after you, trying to get you to notice me, but you’ve done nothing to show me u feel the same jeon but you’re the one allowed to get mad when I speak to other girls? like u said “ that’s funny ”

Oh, no. Immediately your heart comes crashing down, and your fingers tremble as you watch Jeongguk slip away right before your eyes.

you Jeongguk you it’s not like that please you I like you so much, it’s just hard for me to

jeon to what? Get over your stupid stereotype of me?? jeon lmfao. Yeah that must be sooo hard jeon it’s whatever tho bc I had one of u too jeon my dream girl

This is not what you expected when he said he’d make you cry.

“Honey, you just have to talk to him,” Momo says the next morning, pressing a cucumber slice onto your eyes. You flinch at the initial iciness, but then relax when she brushes your hair out of your face. You’d gone to sleep a wreck, crying and sobbing as you thought desperately on how to win Jeongguk back, but everything he had said was true.

You’d done nothing but reject him since the beginning, had only just begun treating him as a friend, yet you instantly placed the blame on him at the first signs of trouble. God, he was right. You’d been selfish this entire time, and now he wasn’t responding to your messages anymore.

Dahyun nods from her cocoon at the foot of your bed. “I’m sure it’ll be easier in person, text convos are always weird,” she tries to comfort you. “But keep those slices on, those bags under your eyes are no joke.”

Momo smacks her calf. “Be nice! She’s going through a crisis.”

Right as you’re about to pay for your meal and sprint back to hide in your dorm, you spot a coconut head of hair facing the windows in the far corner of the dining hall. Fuck. Faintly, you can hear Dahyun’s voice shouting for you to stop being a pussy and go talk to him. You pause by the exit, one leg in one leg out, before saying fuck it. If worse comes to worse, you transfer schools and live with heartbreak and three cats for the rest of your life.

“I-Is someone sitting here?” You say before you can chicken out, and mentally curse yourself for stuttering. Oh, the social horror.

Jeongguk visibly jumps at your voice, wide doe eyes staring at you as if he expected to never see you again. After all, it’s been a week since your little fight, three days since you last tried texting him. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to his plate, but not before tugging the hoodie of his sweater over his head in a classic self defensive tactic.

You slide into the seat, staring at the plate of food like you’ve never seen it in your life, never mind the fact you picked it out less than fifteen minutes ago. You accidentally scrape your fork against the bottom, and the both of you cringe.

Jeongguk clears his throat, hands clasped together between his thighs as he stares out the window. “Don’t you have work?” He asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “I took the week off,” you confess, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because then you’d have to tell him your reasoning was due to heartache.

“Oh. That’s nice,” he says, and then you fall into a pit of awkward silence.

You push the food around on your plate, hoping he’ll say something, anything to save the two of you. In the end, he stays silent, sleepily glancing out the windows.

When you look closer, though, Jeongguk doesn’t look much hot than you. He’s got the same bags as you under his eyes, and his hair looks messier than his usual messy style. The fact he’s wearing his blue crocs out in public only confirms your theory.

After a solid five minutes of silence, even your hungry stomach managing to stay quiet, you decide enough is enough.

You shift ever so slightly, until you’re somewhat facing him and clear your throat; Jeongguk barely spares you a glance. “The Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People,” you blurt. Jeongguk blinks, face slowly morphing into one of confusion. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze, having missed his brown eyes in the past week. “It’s your favorite one,” you announce. “Of the Captain Underpants books.”

After a moment, Jeongguk snorts, turning his attention away from you. “You’re not gonna win me over with that,” he says curtly, and your heart tightens at his emotionless tone of voice.

But you’ve done your research, and you’re not letting it go to waste. “You like George more than Harold because you think he contributes more. You love the characterization of Mr. Krupp the most, but you hate his theme song. You think the cover art could use some work, but you enjoy the overall art style. You hated the movie adaptation because Kevin Hart was in it,” you list, recalling every bit of information you’ve ever heard Jeongguk share about the stupid novels.

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Jeongguk’s lips, but it’s not the one you’re aiming for, so you switch tactics. “You hate the smell of bananas because you don’t think it should have a smell. You can’t put your left sock on first, because it’s bad luck to you. Your mom still washes your sheets for you. You know the lyrics to the original Dragon Ball series in three languages. You like wearing rings because it makes you feel like a pimp. You hate when Hoseok calls you the baby, because, according to you, you bench press his weight times two.”

“And a half,” he softly corrects, gazing at his hands, cheeks slightly tinged with red. You bite your lip, tentatively reaching a hand out to place on his arm. He looks at you right away, doe eyes so vulnerable and scared, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I said we barely knew each other, but that was a lie,” you chuckle humorlessly, suddenly feeling your eyes tear up just remembering the conversation. “I know so much about you because I love listening to you talk. I love hearing your voice, and watching you wrestle with your friends, and fight with Dahyun. But I never tell you,” you bite your lip, blinking your eyes to backtrack the tears.

“And you’re right, I made you do all the work and I’m sorry, but I’m just so scared, Jeongguk,” you admit, voice cracking on his name. Your press a hand over your mouth, trying to collect yourself. Suddenly, a soft hand gently pats your thigh, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “You can have anyone, Jeongguk, and you obviously know this,” you sigh. “I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongguk says, voice soft in the way you’ve missed so much. His hand, shaky and unsure, reaches up to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Look at me,” he commands, and you do. “I think we’re both stupid, because I feel like I’ve never been enough for you,” he confesses with a chuckle you try to replicate through sniffles.

Suddenly, he’s close, forehead pressed to yours. “And maybe it’s true,” he says. “You won’t be enough for me, and I’ve never been enough for you.” Your heart aches at his words. “But that’s okay,” he assures, squeezing your thigh between his fingers. “We don't have to be right now, but we can try.”

You nod, clamping down a sob. “God, I hate how optimistic you are,” you laugh, and he smiles, cupping your face in his hands.

“And I hate watching you cry,” he says, fingers wiping your cheeks. Before you can say what you’re thinking, he’s snatching the words right out of you, “yes, I know I said what I said, and I felt like such a dick typing it, I made Jimin flick my forehead right after.”

You giggle, and he beams that dreamy smile at you again. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he announces, and your heart thunders in your chest faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

And he does.

“I don’t know, I think Kevin Hart sounds great in this,” you mention, and you feel the hard scoff Jeongguk lets out from your position cradled on his chest. “It’s not the worst thing in the world,” you defend.

“You’re sick,” he says, then pauses the Captain Underpants movie to engage in your third debate of the evening. You’re barely fifteen minutes in. “You think that weirdo did George justice? How? In what world?”

“Babe, it’s just a voice actor,” you placate. “No one died because Mr. Hart voiced him.”

Jeongguk splutters. “Mr. Hart—you don’t know this man! And something did die! My hopes for a sequel!”

You shush him, pressing your index finger to his lips. “Enough complaints, Rotten Tomatoes. We won’t even finish at this rate.”

Jeongguk hits play, grumbling under his breath.

Just as you’d predicted, you don’t even make it to the halfway mark before Jeongguk’s got you on your back, plush lips working yours until they’re bruised, tongue halfway down your throat. “The mov—“ you mumble.

“Fuck Mr. Hart,” Jeongguk says, kissing down your jaw like he can’t allow himself to miss a single spot. When he reaches the collar of your shirt, he wastes no time tugging it off of you. You whine, instinctively covering your chest. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckles, “here, look-,” he tugs his sweatshirt over his head, and you’re met with the strong muscles of his abdomen and pecs, “-twins.”

You roll your eyes. “Just kiss me, Mr. Jeon,” you tease, wrapping your hands around him to bring him closer. He chokes, and mumbles something about saving that for another time.

Before you know it, he’s kissing between your thighs, soft lips producing the most erotic sounds with every smooch he gives. “Can I take these off?” he asks, one lone finger creeping beneath the hem of your panties, right where your hip is. You nod, biting your lower lip hard the moment he begins sliding them down. His hands are soft as they glide over your legs, and when he finally tugs them away from your ankles, he wastes no time nudging your legs open for him.

“Don’t just look at it,” you whine, jabbing his ribs with your foot. Jeongguk grins.

“Sorry I stare, you’re just so pretty,” he smiles, and you muffle an annoyed groan into your palms. “Gonna eat you out now,” he announces, finally, and you uncover your face to watch the way he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing pussy, pink tongue coming out to lick at your clit.

The first press of the wet muscle has your toes curling, back arched. You’d been craving this for the longest, and just as you’d expect, it’s better than any fantasy. “Right there,” you moan, reaching down to tangle a hand in Jeongguk’s wavy hair, the other fisting the pillow beneath your head.

Jeongguk absorbs all your tiny reactions, toying with your clit just how you like it. He rolls his tongue around it, making sure every part has been in his mouth at least once. When he suctions his lips around it and moans like this was getting him off, your body melts. “Fuck,” you cry out, your thighs quivering around his head. Part of you wants to slam them shut, hide from his tongue and all its devious ministrations. But the other part has never felt so good in your entire life.

When Jeongguk decides he’s pampered your swollen clit enough, he gives it one final kiss, wet and slippery. “Good?” He smiles up at you, lips slick with your juices. You nod, probably already looking fucked out. He smirks at your response, and your heart backflips in your chest, when he reaches up to knot your fingers together.

He kisses your knuckle and you whine. “How many fingers do you want?” He asks, and you blurt out the first number you can think of.

“Eight,” you choke, and immediately flush in embarrassment afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, dropping his head to your thigh in a fit of giggles. He looks absolutely ethereal there, soft brown hair sprawled across your skin like an angel. “Smaller numbers, baby, please,” he chuckles. You shrug, so he decides for you. “How about I just use my tongue instead?” You think you might love him.

He settles back down, lips pressing against your mound one final time, before he’s diving in. You mewl right away, body becoming one with the mattress beneath you at the first brush of his tongue.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you gasp, hands burying themselves in his scalp again. He hums in response, and the sound has every nerve in your body lighting up. His tongue prods against your folds, slowly licking his way deeper and deeper into your cunt.

The worst comes when he sighs against your pussy, literally sighs, like he’s so blessed to be there. “You’re s-so good at this,” you cry out, trembling fingers twisting his hair so tightly that you manage to pull him off just an inch. He pinches your thigh in warning, before stuffing his tongue into you again, absolutely plunging into the depths of your hole.

Just when you think he couldn’t possibly outdo this, he jolts up suddenly, nose brushing against your clit. His eyes go wide for the slightest second, as if he really hadn’t planned that, before flickering at you.

To your utter embarrassment, he takes one long whiff, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure.

He pulls away from your dripping hole. “You smell so fucking good,” he informs you, spreading a fiery blush across your cheeks.

“Thanks?” You say, and he grins, shuffling onto his knees all of a sudden. You mope the loss of his tongue on your pussy, but forget about it the second he reaches for his desk and returns with a condom.

He tears the foil packet open with gentle hands, eyes weirdly zeroed in on that only. You nudge his hip, and when he meets your gaze, he instantly averts it. Like he’s suddenly shy.

Oh he was gonna be the death of you.

You tug his boxers down and get to revel in more of those bashful glances, but you soon forget about that when he grips his rock hard member in one hand, jacking it to its full potential. “Ready?” He says, one hand gripping your hip, the other his cock. You nod, and then shift up onto your elbows to watch him sink into you.

You can barely keep your eyes open, the second the tip of his cock brushes against you your eyes roll back into your head. You moan, letting yourself flop back against the mattress, chest heaving with each inch he sinks in. “Fuck, you’re big,” you cry, biting down on your fist.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?” He grunts, and then stills as he waits for you to catch your breath. He gives you exactly four seconds before he’s thrusting the remainder of the way in.

Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched moan ripping itself out of your throat. “Jeon!”

“Relax, relax,” he croons, releasing your hip to lean over you, peppering your face in kisses. You’re heaving for air, so overwhelmed with emotions. “You’re doing so good for me, doll,” he comforts, kissing every inch of you until you regain your wits. “So wet and warm for me, you have no idea how bad I wanna just ram my cock into your tight, little pussy.”

You huff, heart still skipping by the time you grow familiar with the sheer size of his dick inside of you. When you’ve finally come back down to earth, eyes fluttering at Jeongguk, he gives you one affirmative nod before he begins really fucking you.

He starts carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break you with one push. You’re thankful that he’s at least somewhat aware of his own bear strength, but you’d prefer if he picked up the pace. Before you can file a complaint, he’s hiking your thigh up onto the crease of his elbow, and ramming himself into you.

“Could already hear some smart ass comment coming,” he groans, snapping his hips into you with a newfound intensity. You moan, trying desperately to reciprocate some movements back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” you gasp, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, scratching lone lines down his back. Jeongguk snorts, pushing in, and then grinding your pelvises together deliciously.

He rolls his eyes, then chooses that exact moment to capture your lips in his. You groan softly, body boneless beneath him at the gentle way he kisses you, like his entire life depends on this single kiss.

When he finally releases your lips, he’s huffing against your mouth, hips having not stopped a single time. You know he’s tired and so riled up; you’d felt the brush of his half-hard member from the moment you first laid down to watch the movie.

But Jeongguk was a gentleman, through and through. You’d felt the brush of his cock, and heard the thundering of his heart, but he hadn’t pushed you further a single time. He basked in your presence, waiting until you crept your hand beneath his shirt to finally pounce.

“I’m close,” you tell him, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jeongguk had treated it like the finest treasure earlier, but now your gentle caresses feel mediocre compared to the way he’d touched it. Jeongguk nods, the tips of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. You abandon your quest to finish yourself off and focus on brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so good to me,” you moan, lightly picking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t deserve you.”

He rams his cock into you, the arm not holding up your thigh weakening, until he’s leaning on his forearm over you. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, and you wonder if his orgasm is as close as yours.

A particular brush of his cock against your cervix has you seeing stars, thighs clenching around him. “Just a little bit—more,” you beg, body writhing beneath him, pushing yourself up to meet his thrusts.

“So perfect,” he praises, kissing along your jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

You nod, but not before cupping his face in your hands, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He makes a soft little sound of surprise, smile pressed against your mouth, and the heat in your abdomen finally explodes. You disassociate for all of one second, consumed in a wave of bliss never before heard of, his pistoning thrusts working you through it.

You nearly cry from how good it feels, throwing an arm around his neck to pull him closer. You’re babbling like an idiot, saying shit you won’t remember later. What you do recall is the chuckles Jeongguk had muffled against your neck, hips never faltering as he chased his own high.

He finds it a few beats later, the muscles of his back suddenly going rigid. He moans your name, somehow making it sound like it’s the best song in the world, before his hips begin stuttering in their mission. He eventually goes slack, slumped over you without completely crushing you beneath the weight of his muscles.

By the time you’ve fully recovered, he’s sliding out of you. Right as you go to speak, he stuffs two fingers into your sensitive cunt. “Jeon!” You wail, reaching down to push him away before you come again.

He snickers. “What? It’d be a waste to let it out,” he says, letting go when he’s decided he’s done his job, popping the digits into his mouth. You groan, trying to quell the excitement that builds in your chest from watching him suck your cum off his fingers.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, snatching his t-shirt off the edge of the bed to tug over your bare form. Jeongguk tugs his underwear back on, retrieving yours from where he’d flung them across the room. When you’re settled into the blankets again, you’re not expecting the laptop to return as well. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

Jeongguk shrugs, nestling into your chest. “Hit play, this is when Professor Poopy Pants begins attacking the city.”

[nightklok]

For the angst prompts, something about #1 says Pickles to me. Bonus points if it’s not about Nathan (I love Nickles but it’s too close to what happened in the show in this case XD).

Angst Writing Prompts [Open] 

I am deeply sorry this took so long firstly! D: It was hard to not pick Nathan or Charles for this one tbh! But I think I found someone that actually fits for this more; Skwisgaar!

1. “You say you love me. So what? You wouldn’t be the first you most certainly won’t be the last.”

Trigger warnings: Drinking/alcohol use

Skwisgaar may not look like it but he was the type of person to fall head over heels in love. And who could blame him? Love was such a wonderful and sweet feeling that made him feel a thousand times lighter and feeling so much more alive than he ever had before. It was so much better than the meaningless one-night stands he had over the years; so it made all the more worth it to drop those one night stands at the drop of a hat the moment he fell in love.

And falling in love is what ended up happening when he met Pickles, the singer for the disbanded band Snakes N’ Barrels and now the new drummer for Dethklok. 

It wasn’t fast with falling in love. No, it crept up and slowly consumed him before he could even be aware he had fallen in love with a bandmate. It was something that never happened before and while the familiar warm feelings of falling in love surfaced, there also came the uncertainty. It was unprofessional though he was never one to follow rules. Though if he said anything and Pickles quit, it meant having to go through drummer (and possibly guitarist) auditions all over again. And Pickles felt like the perfect piece to their mismatched puzzle of a band.

But when was the moment he had fallen in love with Pickles?

They were alone in the apartment they called Mordhaus for the first time. Magnus and Murderface had gone to do some side gigs to earn them extra cash. Nathan was scouring around a different town with their recently made demos in hand to hope that some venue would let them perform. That left Skwisgaar and Pickles in the apartment alone. 

Pickles was going through a can of cheap beer and trying to write some songs while Jeopardy was playing in the background. He was one of the few that could write music but also one of the many that couldn’t exactly read what he wrote. It would mean Magnus, or Murderface would have to revise what he wrote and give him additional feedback if needed. Skwisgaar couldn’t read music for the life of him; he just simply went where the music flowed.

Still, he wanted to be of some use. He approached the drummer, “Hey, Pickle.” 

“Oh, hey Skwisgaar,” Pickles looked up at him with a grin that made his heart slowly pound for whatever reason, “What’s up?” 

“Uh, just wanteds to asks whats your doings...”  He answered. He had no idea why he even bothered approaching, “Or if you wanteds somethings.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though. But I’m trying to write whatever Nate left for me. Don’t know if I’m doing a good job but it’s something.” 

“Yeah,” He looked at the sheet of music that contained all sorts of random symbols and music notes he couldn’t read. What he wouldn’t give to be able to read music at the moment, “Maybes I can helps you..if you wants...”

“Sure. Just get your guitar, wanna see if this part sounds good.” 

Skwisgaar went to his room to pick up his guitar and sat down next to him,  politely rejecting the beer offered and tuned his guitar as the other got ready.

“Okay, you remember what Nate talked about right?” Pickles asked.

“Yeah, he wanteds the songs to be fasts...rights?” 

“And heavy too,” He answered. To any other people, fast and heavy wouldn’t mean a lot or carry a whole lot of weight but to them, it sure did mean a whole lot. 

“Okay, he told me he wanted my drums to kinda follow your lead so I’m trying to learn your part to figure out my own.” 

“Can you evens plays that fast?” The words tumbled out before Skwisgaar could think. For a moment, he feared that Pickles would be offended but thankfully he laughed instead and his fears quickly diminished. He never really heard him laugh before and it was actually cute.

“I am in this band so I think I can. Why don’t you go show me how you’re planning to play?” 

Skwisgaar nodded and once he felt he was ready, began to play. It was a fast progression as Nathan had wanted, no build up to it or anything to be able to prepare an inexperienced guitar player for such swift playing. Pickles seemed unphased, concentrating on how his fingers hit each note and studying each fret and string hit similar to studying for a test.

“It’s actually really good, Skwisgaaar,” Pickles smiled at him when he finished playing, “Why don’t you play it again and I try and keep up with the drums this time?”

Pickles got the drum kit ready, adjusting and doing whatever he needed to do. With a nod, Skwisgaaar began playing. It took a moment or two before Pickles quickly began to play. It was a little too fast and rushed but by the time they got the first verse done, a steady drum beat was made. It had kept up with Skwisgaar’s in a call and response kind of way and it worked surprisingly well. By the time they finished the song, there was the adrenaline rush from a good performance.

“I should’ve asked you to help out sooner, we really did it!” Pickles grinned at him and it made Skwisgaar’s heart beat rapidly once again.

“Oh it’s no problems,” Skwisgaar managed to say with a smile of his own.

“I’m gonna get us food to celebrate; you don’t know how long I’ve been stuck with this song, dude. I really owe you one!” Maybe Pickles was too wrapped up in his own excitement but he had given him a very brief hug before grabbing his car keys and leaving to grab said food.

Skwisgaar was alone with a very flushed face, rapidly beating heart and confused feelings.

______

Okay, so he was in love with Pickles. Totally fine. Totally okay. Totally not something that will backfire if all goes wrong.

He was one to confess feelings the moment he felt them but he had a feeling that it wasn’t wise to do it on the spot. He was impulsive but he also had to use his brain. And band romances are such a tricky situation to go through.

And as he got to know Pickles better, he also realized how much pain he had gone through.

From a family that never loved him to relationships that crashed and burned, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had sworn off falling in love. He already gave a feeling that he was hurt. And so badly did he want to help him. No person should be in that much pain internally but he didn’t know how to help.

He tried to initiate more contact with him as appropriately as he could. Brushing hands against him, leaning against him during movie nights, all that subtle stuff. He knew those things were platonic and the band was surprisingly casual about that stuff around each other. Pickles luckily didn’t seem to mind but most likely took it as a platonic thing.

There was one night where he drank a bit more than usual and got a little too brave. He rested his hand on top of his and didn’t know what to expect out of it. 

And this would happen various times after that night like Pickles realized something he didn’t want to realize. Anytime Skwisgaar touched him, there was a moment of comfort, like it was something he had craved and wanted for so long. But then the moment would disappear and he would excuse himself or move himself away. It was like he had put up a wall between them and he didn’t know how to get himself out of it.

So who could blame Skwisgaar if he decided that enough was enough and he should confess? Maybe Pickles needed the reminder that someone did love him. Not someone who thought of him as a one night stand but someone who had lived with him, gotten to know him, and fell in love with who he was as a person rather than idealized image people may have of him?

It must’ve been close to a year and Skwisgaar never stopped falling in love with him. He wanted him to know. He wanted him to know that he was who he thought about when he woke up or went to bed, how he fantasized kissing him or holding him close until they fall asleep. He wanted to kiss him and do all those lovey-dovey couple things that would never grow old. He just wanted to make him feel loved.

They were alone in the apartment once again but this time for the night. Nathan had gone to a family reunion, Magnus was going on some road trip with some friends and Murderface was spending the night with his old bandmates as it was their reunion or something. 

Skwisgaar asked Pickles if he wanted to watch a movie with him. And Pickles thankfully agreed. They sat on the couch of the living room, watching some horror movie that was on cable but neither were really paying attention. There were drinks and a box of pizza that sat half empty.

‘Hey, Pickle?”

“Yeah?” 

He had to say it. He just had to. It was now or never, “I ams in loves with you.” 

There was silence for the longest time before an answer was made that made his stomach churn, “How much did the guys bet you?” Was all Pickles said with a laugh drier than the wine he was drinking.

“Wha-no-I never tolds anyones! I’m serious!” 

“Skwisgaar, it’s a very funny joke but not really. Just drop it.” His voice turned bitter as he looked at him with confusion, hurt, and anger.

“I ams not. I reallies, reallies, do,” Skwisgaar said quickly, “I haves been in loves with you for a longs times.”

“Oh, really? Why?” 

“I...just ams! You’re talenteds and good lookings and nice to mes, it just happeneds!” 

“Dude, you’re not in love with me. Besides, you got other people to be with, no?” 

“No, I never evens had peoples over to fuck. Have you ever noticed me bringings in someones over for the nights?”

Pickles had to pause and realized that it was true. Skwisgaar hadn’t brought over anyone in such a long time. It still didn’t help words from coming out like he was convincing himself that it couldn’t be true, “How many times do you think people have said those things to me? So what if you said you love me? You wouldn’t be the first and you won’t be the last.” 

“What ams you so afraids of?” Skwisgaar had to ask.

“Me? I’m afraid of nothing, you just don’t know who you’re saying that stuff too.” The lights may have been off but it was easy to see the shine of tear streaks against his cheeks from the glow of the TV.

“...I don’t wants to hurts you, Pickle. Please.” Skwisgaar said and placed a hand on top of his. When Pickles didn’t pull away, he continued, “I...knows that it mights be difficults but you don’t haves to do anythings if you don’t wants to. It’s okays if you don’t haves feelings for me...Just wanteds you to knows.” 

For that moment, he could truly feel what Pickles must’ve felt. The fear of falling in love and the fear of heartbreak. He must’ve never known the feeling of falling in love and feeling like the world was just right for once. Their faces were close now. Skwisgaar reached a hand to touch the side of his face to gently pull him closer. He paused every so often to give the other a chance to back away or tell him to stop. He only moved forward when he felt him move closer to him until their lips touched.

It was soft and light but eventually turned deeper. The taste of wine and vodka was apparent but it didn’t bother either of them. There was warmth and a spark and it felt like falling in love for the first time. And it felt so, so, right to kiss each other.

And for that reason, Pickles pulled away. He didn’t even meet him in the eyes, his face flushed but seemed to be going through all sorts of emotions, “I-uh-gotta go. See you later.”

Skwisgaar watched as Pickles left before giving him a chance to speak. His own face felt flushed and he was probably running through the same emotions as well. It felt like they were just going somewhere, finally going a few steps forward, but now everything crashed back and they were probably back to square one.

Maybe other people would give up at this point. And maybe it was what Pickles expected; after all, any other person would label him a lost cause and move on to someone more worth their time. But to Skwisgaar, he was worth the wait for so much and more. He knew that there was something and he knew the other felt the same. He just had to go about this in a manner that would reassure him that he wasn’t going to give up on him and he wasn’t going to hurt him.

Despite the feeling of heartbreak, he still was in love with him. And he was determined to prove it to him no matter what.

[johannestevans]

Livetweeting Hook & Smee in Barrie’s Peter Pan: Part One

Going from the Gutenberg edition for copy and paste ease. 

I’m gonna be separating this into parts because I get long-winded when talking about how I love these piratical homos, but I just want to state for the record in case you’ve never read Peter Pan before and think that you might want to based off of these two, like... 

Fair warning, Peter Pan was published at the beginning of the 20th century, and it is racist as fuck, particularly with anti-Black sentiment and some nasty stuff about Native Americans. The latter is not as bad as it is in the Disney adaptation, where they actually added in a lot of extra racism, but it’s still present.

With that said, I was raised on Peter Pan, and the queer vibes and gender vibes from the fairies were really positive for me, and I do still love it - what I don’t want is anyone to think “oh, this book Peter Pan looks fun” and then getting a gut punch when it has That Shit. The book is honestly not all that great, and Peter Pan himself is a violent serial killer and abuser disguised as an eight-year-old, so if you want to give Peter Pan a pass, you absolutely should.

So, first, their introductions!

...and the Irish bo'sun Smee, an oddly genial man who stabbed, so to speak, without offence, and was the only Non-conformist in Hook's crew...

I love Smee... so much. I love that he stabs without offence - Hook is very regularly described as evil and intimidating and scary, whereas Smee is constantly established as this kindly-looking uncle figure who is going to disembowel you with charm, and yes, that’s absolutely a contrast I have firmly internalised and that shows up regularly in my own work.

In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark setting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook, of whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. He lay at his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men, and instead of a right hand he had the iron hook with which ever and anon he encouraged them to increase their pace. As dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him.

This isn’t actually the initial introduction of Hook in the book - he’s initially talked about in conversation between Peter and the Darlings, where Michael just bursts into tears at the mere mention of the man.

Hook is terrifying, not just to children, but to his crew, who he kills so casually - there’s a lot to be said about why Hook is so frightening, because it isn’t just how easily violent he is, but his comfort in commanding others. Hook is a posh cunt who went to Eton, so he obviously lacks a soul in the way that people like that do, but conducts himself as though he’s the centre of the universe, and uses that to intimidate.

In person he was cadaverous [dead looking] and blackavized [dark faced], and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly.

Someone get a Ouija board and tell Barrie that there are ways to describe scary people that don’t involve pointing out how “dark” they are, Christ

ANYWAY, I do think it’s interesting that Barrie presents the guy as looking like a corpse, while also being like “he was a bit of a ride though, like, he was handsome”. I’m also just... so obsessed with Hook’s eyes, because Hook is consistently described throughout the book - as well as in the good adaptations, like Hook (1991) - as being a man utterly consumed by depression, anxiety, and doubt. Like, he’s this deeply sad, unhappy man, and I’m obsessed with the idea that you can see that when you look in his eyes - the only time it seems like he feels anything other than crushing emptiness is when he’s killing somebody.

Sexy!

In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that he was a RACONTEUR [storyteller] of repute. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew.

“He was posh which, as you understand, reader, means that he was a monster and a sadist, and he was at his scariest when he was at his poshest.”

A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said in some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his iron claw.

I’m obsessed with the double cigar thing. Like, you know how Cruella de Vil’s whole thing is that she has her cigarette on one of those long cigarette holders? I wish that Hook’s insane two-pronged cigar smoker was as iconic a part of his character design as that is of hers, because it’s genuinely so funny and so unnecessary and also just...

Imagine how depressed you must be as a man to need that much fucking nicotine and tar in your lungs on one inhalation.

Hook fainting over his own blood, iconic, love it; Hook dressing himself in his red brocade and his long coats and with his calves on show because some guy one time told him he looked like a Stuart? Incredible. Adore it. Hook is literally a theatre kid with no self esteem to speak of.

Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's method. Skylights will do. As they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him, ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a tearing sound and one screech, then the body is kicked aside, and the pirates pass on. He has not even taken the cigars from his mouth.

Such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pan is pitted. Which will win?

So this post is meant to be about Hook and Smee, not about Peter Pan, but I do want it said that while this is obviously a very horrible thing to do, especially because Hook killed Skylights for no reason than he messed his clothes up, Peter Pan traffics small children to Neverland and slaughters them in the woods, offscreen, when they’re too big to fit in his clubhouse anymore.

Tragically, huge spoiler, Peter Pan does win.

Anyway, ensues a description of stuff that doesn’t matter, and then the pirates find the hideout of the Lost Boys (Peter’s club of soon-to-be-lifeless-children), and the Lost Boys scatter, and the pirates want to find them so they can kill them, especially Peter.

“Shall I after him, Captain,” asked pathetic Smee, “and tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew?” Smee had pleasant names for everything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because he wiggled it in the wound. One could mention many lovable traits in Smee. For instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weapon.

“Johnny's a silent fellow,” he reminded Hook.

“Not now, Smee,” Hook said darkly. “He is only one, and I want to mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them.”

Smee is so often described as pathetic, which he absolutely is, but - and Hook does later muse on this - although he is so pathetic and so not intimidating, he is completely content in himself and his life, whereas Hook is terrifying and very impressive, and wants to die all of the time with the depression, so who’s really winning here, James?

AND HE CALLS HIS SWORD JOHNNY CORKSCREW! HE IS SUCH AN ADORABLE UNCLE-ESQUE MURDERER!

“One could mention many lovable traits in Smee,” is so good, it delights me very time, because YES, one COULD, but you really should wipe your weapon, Smee, the blood will make the metal tarnish!

[artificialqueens]

Love Connections and Other Works of Art (Sashea) - Estuary

Summary: Sasha becomes infatuated with a mural. That’s not the only thing she’s infatuated with.

A/N: I had an idea and ran with it. A meet cute and all the fallout. I hope y'all enjoy it! AO3 Link

        “Ma’am? Ma’am, I am so sorry, but my boss wants to know why you’re loitering.”   

        Sasha flushed, becoming painfully aware of how long she had stared at the mural on the side of this building. The mural was captivatingly colorful and practically pulsed with geometric shapes that were just abstract enough to draw in the viewer with the desire to discover what they were. However, even after staring at the mural for upwards of ten minutes on her way to work, Sasha could not determine their meaning. At one moment, the shapes became silhouettes of dancers, at another an architectural landscape, and at yet another, angular clouds.

        Upon tearing her eyes from the wall and spinning around to face the chiding voice, Sasha’s pale complexion deepened to a strawberry red as she laid eyes on a truly stunning woman. Her deep, creamy skin glinted under the sunlight, long, tight curls piled on her head’s right side. Her mouth formed a smirk as Sasha stared, but even with that smug expression, the lady looked beautiful. A pink blazer paired with a cobalt blue skirt usually wouldn’t seem professional, but with her stature and poise, she looked expensive and unique.

        Sasha looked down instinctively, not wanting to ogle this poor woman any longer. However, staring at the concrete sidewalk only led Sasha’s eyes to a pair of frighteningly tall, pink stiletto pumps. Pumps which then connected to a pair of slender, toned, mile-long legs.

        “Um.. girl? Are you good?” The woman asked. The question seemed to reflect concern, but the smirk had transformed into nothing short of a full, shit-eating grin.   

        Good job, Sasha. You look great. Get yourself together.

        Sasha steeled herself enough to meet the woman’s eyes.

        Talk about art. You can do that. 

        “I’m so sorry, I just was looking at this mural. The colors and composition are so wonderfully vibrant. The style speaks to traditional cubism, but the interplay of light, shade, and color reminds me of a Charles Demuth.” Sasha explained, eagerly gesticulating. Even then, she cringed slightly when her hand movements caused the pins littering her own blazer to rattle loudly.   

        After a brief pause, the woman responded.

        “Well, I’m happy you like it so much. In fact, do you want to meet who designed it?” 

        “Absolutely! If you could give me a phone number, or an email, I’ll contact her. And I’ll get out of your hair, sorry about all that.”

        “Oh, I’m not gonna go through all that trouble. You can just talk to me now.”

        Fuck. Sasha was a goner.

        “Really?”    

        “Yes! Do I look like I’m playing?” 

        “Oh my god…” Sasha muttered, the expression slipping from her lips. And upon seeing Sasha so flustered, this beautiful, perfect woman threw her head back in a full laugh. 

        It was the most lovely laugh Sasha had ever heard. It sounded deep like thunder in the mountains, and it sounded warm like an embrace or a crackling fireplace. It sounded like all these things, and Sasha felt like she was experiencing all of them at once. Maybe this mystery woman of Sasha’s dreams was laughing at her, but she would be ridiculed at forever if it meant she got to hear that laugh. 

        Double fuck.

        “I’m Shea Couleé,” the woman said, sticking out her delicately manicured hand.

        “Nice to meet you, Miss Couleé,” Sasha replied, earnestly (probably too much so) grabbing Shea’s hand and shaking it, “I’m Sasha Velour.”

        “Oh, call me Shea. It’s Miss Couleé only if you nasty.”

        Sasha felt more blood rise to her cheeks, opening her mouth to only remain silent. Shea pulled Sasha in slightly close, so her cheek practically touched Sasha’s ear. They were much too close for strangers, but for an enamored woman, perfectly fine. 

        Whispering against Sasha’s ear, Shea muttered, “By all means, continue to call me Miss, then…”

        Shea (damn her!) let go of Sasha’s hand and stepped back into her original position.

        “You know what, Sasha? Why don’t we talk about this,” Shea flippantly gestured to the mural, “over drinks later today?”

        How can she treat such a masterpiece so casually?   

        “I’d love to do that, Shea.”

        “Catch you later, Miss Velour,” Shea tossed the phrase over her shoulder, strutting back into the shop, leaving Sasha standing bug-eyed on the sidewalk.

        As Sasha hurried away to work as initially intended, she could only focus on Shea’s breath on her ear and the weight of her hand on her wrist.

————-

        Sasha’s job mostly consisted of staring at a screen for hours on end, so going out to the bar provided a nice change of pace. She enjoyed her job authoring write-ups of local art galleries, but the near-silence of the office and the polite hushed tones of artistic display spaces felt suffocating after long stretches. In places built on self-expression, the most primitive form had to wait until after work to shine. 

        The additional mounting excitement and nervousness of Sasha’s meeting with Shea didn’t help with anything. Shea had slipped Sasha her business card before returning to her job, and all-day, Sasha couldn’t help but run her fingers over the cardstock to remind herself that the interaction that she had was real. 

        While Sasha might typically reject the stereotype of the helpless, love-stricken woman (particularly when viewed through the eyes of men), Sasha felt like nothing short of François Boucher’s The Love Letter. Normally, she found the grazing animals, the flowers, the women swathed in layers of pastel silks to be patronizing and suffocating in its delicacy and adorable pleasantries. Sasha now could not relate more. Maybe her pastoral paradise could be a desk and ergonomic chair. Perhaps her love letter could be the business card of a beautiful stranger.

        Even later, at the bar, Sasha’s fingers carefully traced the edge of the card. The repetitive motions felt soothing, although it was hard to calm the tidal wave of nervousness in her head. 

        What should I say? It’s been five minutes since 7:30. That’s normal. That’s fashionably late still. Was I supposed to change before I got here? Does she… like me?

        Sasha’s mind raced, but it kept getting stuck on that final question. Like a record player skipping over and over.

        It’s been ten minutes since when we agreed. She should be here. She won’t come. It’s a joke. I hope it won’t look strange if I just leave the bar alone when she doesn’t show up. She can’t like me. Could she like me?

        Sasha hooked and unhooked her heels on the rest of the barstool. She took a pen from her purse and began to draw on Shea’s business card.

        It’s been fifteen minutes. I’ve been duped. I should have known. It was too good to be true–

        “Sasha! Sorry I’m late.”

        Triple fuck.

        Sasha needed to get used to how gorgeous Shea looked because constantly getting this flustered was frankly getting embarrassing. However, Shea wasn’t making it easy.

        Shea had changed into a vibrant, pink, crushed velvet minidress that shone under the bar’s lights. As she approached Sasha at the bar, she smiled widely and met Sasha’s eyes. 

        Putting her hand on Sasha’s back, Shea took the seat next to her.

        “You wear pencil skirts to the club?” Shea asked, bemused eyes flickering from Sasha’s blouse to the aforementioned skirt.

        “I didn’t have time to change, I’m sorry,” Sasha said, torn between her desire to examine how she looked and her desire to continue staring.

        “No, it’s all good, girl! You look just stunning here as you did on the sidewalk today. So you wanted to talk about my mural?”

        This casual, kind, and flirtatious manner kept throwing Sasha off her rhythm. One second she had her–very professional–thoughts and questions organized, and a whim, her thoughts were cast into the sea.

        “Um, well, yes. I just thought your mural was so lovely and captivating. It captures such a specific artistic feeling, and I wanted… I wanted to know what your inspiration was?” Sasha forced the first part of the question out but gradually took a stride as her mind focused and settled itself once more on the topic at hand.

        “I’ve always loved, like, cubism and the reduction of big things to more abstract shapes. I wanted to do that, but for something that was already semi-abstract, leave it up to the viewer. I love pop art and bright colors, and I figured, this’ll attract shoppers,” Shea leaned in, smiling again, “and some hot women.”

        Sasha, to her delight, learned so much about Shea as the dinner continues. 

        Shea hadn’t had formal painting or visual arts training, instead studying fashion and design. Her job at the store exists mostly to pay the bills, but she volunteered to do the mural for free. Shea loves pairing pastels and saturated colors. Shea likes savory foods more than sweet foods. Shea was raised in Chicago and moved to New York for school. Shea was single. Shea was very single.

        As the conversation continued, Sasha found herself in turn revealing more and more about herself. Her love of Keith Haring’s Unfinished Painting and Jean Michel-Basquiat’s Untitled (Skull). Her dream of owning a gallery specializing in queer art. Her disdain for salty snacks. Her beloved dog Vanya. How she was single. Very single.

        The conversation also served to distract Sasha from the copious amounts of alcohol she and Shea were consuming. Alcohol that loosened Sasha further and further, to the point that her inhibitions began to evaporate. 

        “I’m glad that you liked my mural. If you hadn’t looked at it for so goddamned long, we wouldn’t have met,” Shea and Sasha both laughed, and as Shea rested her hand on Sasha’s shoulder, Sasha just looked at her.

        Sasha had already heard the sound of Shea’s laugh, but being able to watch her laugh added an entirely new dimension to the experience. When Shea laughed, she’d throw her head back, tossing her long black curls. Her eyes would scrunch, and the light caught on her cheeks. 

        God. Every part of her shone and sparkled. Just existing near her made Sasha feel strangely buoyant and pleasant. It felt like she got to witness someone massively special and joyous and who, in turn, made Sasha feel special herself.

        “What are you thinking about?”

        “How beautiful you are when you laugh. And smile. And do most anything.”

        “I like the way you talk, Sasha”

        “That I do it about you?”

        “No, bitch!” Shea says, giggling, “Your voice and the phrases you use. I love it. I feel like I’m listening to a hot, hipster audiobook. You don’t think that’s creepy, right?” 

        “I don’t think it’s creepy. I don’t think I can think ill of you at all right now”

        Shea laughs again.

        “I like you a lot Sasha,” Shea says. Suddenly, she stands up and grabs Sasha’s hand. “Dance with me?” Shea asks, nodding her head to the masses of people on the main dance floor.

        Sasha eagerly followed Shea, and as the lights and alcohol blurred the edges of her vision and the writhing bodies bumped into her own, Sasha couldn’t look away from the vision of Shea’s beautiful hand clutching her own. That beautiful, warm grasp. Even in a sea of stimulation, the only thing that mattered was Shea’s hand.

        After making it to an open spot, Shea dropped Sasha’s hand and they both began to dance.

        When Sasha danced, she danced mostly with her hands and upper body, in a style some might call “stilted” and the more charitable might call “interpretive”. Sasha liked to claim that it came from a slightly limited range of motion caused by a pencil skirt. While that might have been somewhat true, Sasha preferred not to dwell on the fact that she had turned up going to parties in exchange for spoken word poetry nights.

        Shea, meanwhile, danced like water. She kicked, jumped, and shook, but each movement blended into each other. Her braids had been tucked into a ponytail, but still swished back and forth as she moved, emphasizing her movements. 

        What changed?

        The music didn’t slow down.

        Maybe it was Shea saying that she “loved Sasha’s ‘dad dancing’”.

        Maybe it was the lights shifting to an electric blue color that shone on Shea’s hair and skin, making her look like an ethereal vision.

        Maybe it was Shea pausing from her dance to touch the assortment of pins on Sasha’s blazer, holding each one up to the light and pausing to read it.

        Maybe nothing changed.

        But Sasha felt so wonderful, so magical that she threw her arms around Shea’s neck. The music still pounded and shook her bones, but all Sasha knew was that she wanted to see Shea’s face. Wanted to feel it.

        Lifting her hand from Shea’s neck, Sasha traced Shea’s cheekbones. The curve of her ear. Her smile lines. 

        Shea wrapped her arms around Sasha’s waist, rubbing small circles with her thumb, delicate circles that Sasha could feel through her skirt. As Sasha gently ran her thumb along Shea’s cheek, she saw Shea’s eyes flutter as she let out a large sigh.

        Sasha felt like Henri Matisse’s Icarus. So obviously plummeting at lightspeed into this love, but for a brief moment in the unknown, the uncertain, silhouetted against the sky.

        Wingless and among yellow stars. The only aspect of her being, a red, glowing heart. A brief moment of glory.

        Shea’s sparkling eyes. 

        A brief moment.

        Shea’s smile. 

        A brief moment.

        They had danced around it long enough.

        Sasha leaned upward, catching Shea’s lips with her own. Her hands moved downward, clutching Shea’s back, pressing Shea towards her. Shea sighed, and Sasha could feel the corners of her lips move upwards. 

        “Why?” Sasha whispered breathily onto Shea’s lips. “Why me? Why not anyone else?”

        “Because no one else blushes so profusely at my words in their ears. No one else wants to talk about the philosophical implications of French impressionism on gender roles. No one else is a beautiful, unique, unibrowed and pin-covered woman who looks at my mural like it’s the greatest piece they’ve ever seen and then looks at me like I’m, like I’m some kinda magical being.

         I wanna witness you, Sasha. I wanna witness you all the time.”

        As they held each other close, Sasha put her racing mind to rest. Resting her head on Shea’s shoulder, she felt the music and sweat of the club gently fade away, replaced by the sound of two beating hearts. 

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Rewatch Series (#20)

YESSIR. WE MADE IT. I CAN’T BELIEVE WE MADE IT.

Final episode that I’m watching for the rewatch series. Ready to fuck some shit up.

S3 E20: The Tipping Point.

Episode description: Dr. Rhodes second guesses his decision to remove himself from the team of doctors who work to separate conjoined twins.

You’ve gotta be fucking joking right?

okay.

last ava ep that mattered. i’m so excited

let’s get into it.

- ava

- the way nat looks at connor when ava says that he will not be operating

- it’s like no one trusts ava at all?

- yes, he’s emotionally involved, but is that really that good of a thing?

- ava is of sound mind. connor evidently does not think that he is

- why is connor apparently the only one capable of the surgery?

- fuck off. this is why he needs to leave

- so many nat ava interactions. i never expected this. ( i should have. i am dumb)

- ava reminding nat that like, she’s here. right next to them. in this conversation

- nat, to connor: “The cronins are counting on you!”

ava: “They’re counting on the team.” like bitch?

- like it or not, nat also does not believe women should have rights. maybe it’s a manstead thing. no. it’s definitely a med thing.

- i like ethan’s jacket.

- april can shut the fuck up. hypocrite? i smell a hypocrite? (who am I kidding, they’re all over med)

- ethan has the best outfits

- april. the one who preached unconditional love. is like. ‘emily can get fucked. i don’t care.’ i can’t believe it. this is so fucking stupid.

- three weeks ago (literally) will and nat were not on speaking terms. now he’s gonna fucking propose?

- NOBODY ON MED HAS FUCKING BRAIN CELLS

- I always hated how on tv shows, characters get married super soon. it’s so fucking annoying.

- omg bert tried to kill himself holy shit

- ava sighing at connor trying to give input.

- sarah’s dad: “I don’t deserve you.” NO BITCH YOU DON’T. go die

- connor fuck off. stop having to give orders on everything

- yeah, sure. connor emotes in this episode. but what he’s emoting at is going in and fucking stealing a huge surgery

- i can’t believe this is the last episode of med with connor. can’t believes he leaves for mayo clinic at the end of the season... the world we live in...

- YESSS THEY FIND EMILY AT THE ENCAMPMENT. classic angst. honestly. i fucking love it.

- yeah april.

- god this is like. classic angst. old school. back to basics. this is fucking fantastic

- UGHHHH I LOVE ITTTT

- the fuck?

- the mayo guy, and the other doctors are surprised that connor, a surgeon, knows how to do surgery? EXCUSE ME? THE BAR IS ON THE FUCKING FLOOR

- why is everyone so fucking stupid. i’m being serious. watch that scene. it is so stupid.

- ava is... not surprised that connor cut in. i mean. is anyone?

- she almost has that scoffy grin, that she does, under her mask

- okay but like ava’s character growth. instead of being mad that connor’s getting in on the surgery (like she would at the beginning of the season), she’s concerned for his career.

- sarah’s dad is fucking pathetic. i can’t believe sarah’s stuck with him. she deserves so much better

- SHE HAD TO MOVE TO FUCKING TEXAS. COME THE FUCK ON.

- i can’t believe he fucking tricks her into walking him outside. fuck him.

- takes him for a walk and pushes him down a hill

- it’s taking all of my self control not to write something where ava does that

- the way ethan subtly flinches when emily apoligizes. brian tee is a god

- sarah’s dad’s dialogue really makes it seem like he’s gonna murder his own daughter

- the monkeys is a good bit

- HOLY SHIT ITS LANIK

- I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT OKAY DAMN

- he is way different than i remember. i literally never paid attention to him

- ava with her fuckinngggg rolled up sleeves is still fantastic

- ava’s disappointment at seeing connor meet with the mayo clinic guy. most rh*kker thing we’ve seen all season. and yeah, i’m including the one night stand. there’s a special kind of upset you get at seeing someone you love leave and move far away. it’s not really the same as losing someone who’s just a friend. that’s why i say it’s the most rh*kker thing.

- of course, i am still keeping them platonic, so going off of that. ava is thinking that she is about to lose the only person she’s gotten close to in the last seven months. of course she’s going to be upset

- (in the rewrite this loss is not as much of a problem bc in the rewrite she has reese)

- also that surgery was so anticlimactic fuck off. this episode is fucking boring. my favorite part is probably the emily reveal. i’m a sucker for some sibling angst

- is he really going to propose. off of that? her being mad at him. you’ve got to be fucking joking.

- HOLY FUCKING SHIT APRIL IS THE MOST ANNOYING PERSON. SO FUCKING CONDESCENDING? “She’s damaged, you can’t fix her.” SHE’S TALKING DOWN TO HIM. this is so fucking infuriating

- i cannot believe this i cannot believe this i cannot believe this she’s fucking breaking up with him bc he cares about his sister. the sister she told him to care about?? holy fuck, I can’t

- WILL IS SO FUCKING DUMB

- YOU CANT PROPOSE TO HER WHEN SHES MAD AT YOU

- YOU ALSO CANT PROPOSE TO HER BC YOU ARE FUCKING TOXIC

- WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???

- he is so fucking dumb oh my god

- connor looking out, pensive over the parking lot. why is everyone on this show so fucking extra

- tell me why ava’s casual clothes is a button up. ma’am.

- back at it with the snippy one liners

- she looks so sad? baby noooo.

- i can’t. my heart can’t.

- there’s a lot to unpack in this scene

- i don’t really know why she starts out looking so sad?

- let’s chalk that up to her being tired, and channeling her little energy into feigning annoyance at connor. but then, as she keeps speaking, keeps thinking, she taps into this deep seeded feeling of indignance. real annoyance at connor’s bullshit.

- connor returns ava’s initial comment, which at this point is still kind of light and teasing, with another sly line, trying to brush it off.

connor: “You give me too much credit.”

ava, tucking her tongue in front of her teeth in that way when you don’t believe what someone’s saying: “Do I?”

- next, she says “you’re ambition strikes me as boundless.” I really have no clue what to make of that/

- then she says “I don’t know what to think.” shaking her head, shrugging. at a loss. why? is it bc she can’t figure out what he is/was trying to do? she can’t understand him anymore?

i think it’s ‘she was surprised by what he did, but she’s mad at herself bc honestly, she shouldn’t have been’. she thought he had changed, when he pulled himself off the case. thought he had gained some humility (finally, finally given ava her one moment in the sun to shine). and then he goes back on it almost immediately.

yeah. that’s what it is. she’s surprised, but mad bc she shouldn’t have been.

- she says “but I’m sure you also secured yourself an attending position” as like a slight jab. not really meant to be cutting, but then his reaction ruins it and makes her realize that something worse actually happened. if connor had responded to it in kind with another snarky comment the moment probably would have been fine

- connor’s “ah, god, ava -” comes off as so fucking insincere.

- ava’s small little “what?”. my heart

- i also think it’s interesting that when she’s thinking things through in the moment really fast, her face changes with her thoughts/emotions, and out of some sort of reflex, she smiles. her first thing is to laugh at the situation, scoff at it

- she’s laughing out of disbelief

- why is she laughing (out of reflex)? because this is stupid. HE DID SOMETHING THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNFAIR AND RECKLESS. AND HE’S GETTING REWARDED FOR IT. LIKE HE ALWAYS HAS. and Ava is the only person to see how unfair it is. everyone else would congratulate him no questions. can’t fucking believe it

- connor asking ava if she would take the offer is so fucking pathetic. he’s asking bc he’s hoping she’d say no, and then he’d finally have his answer to ‘is she in love with me’. the stupidest thing is she says no, which basically means no, i’m not in love with you, AND HE STILL TURNS IT DOWN. WHAT THE FUCK

- boy get some fucking eyes.

- also holy shit i’m just now realizing how cool my idea of connor somehow passing the offer off to her would be in one of my alternate endings of s3. because, he literally asks her is she would take the offer and she literally says she would. so that would be completely in character

- for those of you wondering, in my version, the reason ava wants connor around is bc he’s her only friend. why would it make sense for her to take the mayo clinic offer? did you just trap yourself in your logic

- no, it’s okay, bc if she took the offer, it’s just a reset. it’s not any different, bc she’s in a completely new place, she has time to make more connections. the reason she clung to connor was bc over the seven months, he was the only person she connected with, so she valued him immensely. there’s no reason she couldn’t make another connection at the mayo clinic. it’s perfectly fine.

- connor’s such a fucking simp its so pathetic

- she’s staying for sarah

- why does she start crying? that’s a good question.

- well, for all the reasons we stated before. she’s losing the closest thing to a best friend that she has. it’s sad. it’s alienating. and she’s sad bc she thinks there’s no way that he wouldn’t take the offer

- (bc they’re just good friends. you don’t turn down job offers for good friends. and it’s true. in my version, they are just good friends, and connor takes it. and ava has to deal with being lonely again.)

- (of course, med took a different route.)

- i fucking hate this show. i fucking hate this show so much.

- the last shot of the season is sarah and charles and sarah’s dad and we get one episode of  wrap up. med likes their cliffhangers so fucking much.

okay, so. this episode is pretty good for like a branching off point. we see the anxiety ava feels at the idea of connor leaving, which is really good to work with moving forward. I feel like I’ve said enough on all these different topics.

That being said, I have a lot of thoughts, and now that I have the knowledge of what my canon will be, going forward, this is going to be fun.

When I have more ideas, I’ll make more posts.

we’ve set the grounds. this was the final episode. now we look ahead, towards the future of med.

thank you, so much, for sticking with it. <3<3

[iridescentwinters]

hi there! don't know if you have done it before but could you give a description of each william remake on what you've seen so far including og? 😊

hello hello! oof i’ve never done this before!

and holy shit i made this super long,,,, but anyway here are my takes and personal descriptions of all the williams!

william (skam) – oh, william. the king of all williams because he’s the original bad boy with a broken past; the reason why we have the rest of the remakes boys. i think my initial opinion on him was how he was going to be a typical “wattpad” bad boy who would just chase after the good girl for the kicks of it. but my opinion changed heavily after watching season 2. while he did make mistakes in both season 1 for being an asshole to vilde and also not hearing noora out after learning the “truth” from his brother (the biggest asshole/villain) about the party, i think people take hating on him to the extreme. to me, william presented himself as someone who was ignorant with a cold-hard exterior, but in reality he was a determined person who was willing to change for the better and he also did look out for others’ well-being. he was quite soft-spoken i would say especially around noora, but nonetheless he stood by his virtues of being a loyal friend even when she told him it was “wrong” to use violence. he was a realist as well. twisting all of those characteristics about him make him look like a bad person, but he really wasn’t. he had a difficult family and he lost his sister. he was just a little lost, but i’d like to think he’s now a mature person who’s made a good connection with himself.

charles (skamfr) – like william, charles also presented himself as an ignorant asshole who couldn’t care less about what others thought, but in reality he’s quite the opposite! my favourite thing about charles is how that entire cold exterior melts whenever he’s around manon. watching season 2, i noticed that he was a lot more clingy than william (i would say). especially in the scenes where manon almost broke up with him, he looked desperate, sounded fragile and was a lot more apologetic (shout-out to michel and his incredible acting!). he’s a lot more cut-to-the-chase kind of person (maybe that could also be because of the limited time skamfr had for every episode lol). he didn’t like beating around the bush. and he hands-down is the most emotional william SO FAR. that tear when he found out about the party scene, and when manon said she didn’t know if she slept with his brother or not? MADE ME CRY. overall, charles is a huge teddy bear that needs to be protected at all costs. he tore toxic masculinity down.

alexander (druck) – now, this is a tricky one. my first impression of alex while watching his entrance was that he was going to be the coldest william. and i think i still stand by that impression. most of season 1 was him looking and sounding stone-cold. cool as ice. now this is where my inner winterberg warrior jumps out, but literally i kid you not the first time alex genuinely smiled was after mia confronted him and asked him if he wet the bed. from then on, every scene he had with mia in season 1, you can see him smiling. i think that’s what’s nicely done about alex: he genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about others’ opinions. including mia’s right now. i know every single william is very educated and keeps up with what’s going on in the world, but druck currently is showing that very well, with the discussion he and mia had in class about israel. not only does that underline mia’s flaws in her thoughts, it characterises alex of not just being a pretty face, but he understands the world’s issues. from the recent clip (the christmas eve one), we see that he’s not celebrating christmas with his own family, so that definitely will play a major role in why he’s so cold. i have a feeling his broken past is going to cut deeper. overall, alex is indeed the coldest william, but i have a feeling that hard rock exterior is going to break soon. kudos to chris veres!

edoardo (skamit) – ughhhh can i just say how much i miss his face?! i can’t wait to see him soon in season 3! to me, edo’s the funniest take on william. i wouldn’t call season 1 edo a fuckboy; i’d call him a PLAYBOY. he’s so…. classy. from the very limited scenes we’ve seen of him, i would say he’s bold. like alex, he isn’t afraid of how he’s being perceived (probably too rich to hear them), but like charles, he melts at the sight of eleonora. in the first clip of season 2, you literally see him roll his eyes at silvia, but the moment he catches eleonora’s eyes, he just becomes a whole other person. i’m interested in seeing how his character development will be like in season 3 and how giancarlo portrays edo. i think he’ll be a lot more open about his past to eleonora than all of the other williams. and he’ll get more serious in situations where he’s supposed to be. but overall, i see him as someone who’ll use humour to hide his true emotions!

daniel (skamaus) – daniel’s entrance was hands down my favourite entrance. the song, the positioning, everything just screamed king of school without even trying. i’m not even saying this because grace made this reference in her text to megan, but he really does remind me of sebastian valmont from cruel intentions! this is gonna make him sound like an asshole for 5 seconds but bare with me; i think he sees grace as a challenge. INITIALLY he does. he radiates “villain” energy, but in season 2 he’s going to forget all of that and will genuinely risk everything for grace. i just know it. he’s going to be the epitome of cliché (thanks to julie 😉). i think he’ll be the most afraid of breaking his tough barriers. i can’t wait to see how his character development is going to look like!

alejandro (skames) – BABY. A BABY HAS BEEN SPOTTED. but listen, don’t be fooled by looks,,,, alejandro most definitely is not the softest william. he may look like it, but he ain’t. and i think that’s what i like about him. he just never fails to surprise you. it’s nice to see a teenager play a teenage role! he just gives off cocky vibes, tbh. especially confident, which we can see in the halloween clip where he subtly asks nora for a dance (RIGHT IN FRONT OF VIRI). now, the reason why i brought up the fact that a teenager plays a teenage role is because despite having an arrogant upfront, i think alejandro is going to make a lot more mistakes and will be a lot more emotional than maybe even charles himself. fernando is 18, he’s still experiencing the teenage life. he’s going to have a more realistic take of a fuckboy in Spain.

noah (skamnl) – oK. noah is by far the most mysterious william. THIS MAN DOESNT EVEN HAVE HIS SURNAME DISCLOSED YET. he’s definitely a lot more quiet than the rest of the williams. i would even go to the extent of calling him alex’s foil (in a good way, of course!). that doesn’t mean he’s not confident though. most definitely is, especially with the last clip of season 1 where he gives liv the note behind engel’s back lmaoo. along with charles, he said fuck toxic masculinity by not only having a passion in the arts, but also with painting his nails. it’s the little things about him that characterise him as a good person. i wonder if he’s a lot more soft-spoken because of his family background. i have a feeling he’s going to be an ultra-soft version of charles. ugh writing about him makes me so sad bc i miss him, but i can’t wait to see him again in 2019 hehe

senne (wtfock) – senne’s a lot more involved with school than all of the williams combined (even daniel, who doesn’t seem to care much about popularity at school). which makes sense tbh, because i feel like the textbook definition of the most popular boy at school is being socially involved and yeah, being a jock basically. ugh i really need to get caught up with the rest of wtfock’s season 1, but from what i’ve seen, he’s kinda like a mixture of alex and edo. like alex, he’s not afraid of pointing out zoë’s flaws in her thinking, but like edo, he’s bold. he looked surprised when zoë made him pick up all of her stuff, but he nonetheless did what she told him to do, so i have a feeling we’re going to see more of that in season 2. he’s not going to be afraid of tearing down the stereotypical male bravado or being called “whipped” for listening to his girlfriend. i’m SO ready to see more of him next season!

[smoria]

riverdale [03.22] finale

aka i don’t know what to do with all this so it feels all slapped together. i hope it makes sense

this whole episode makes me feel like i’m being manipulated into giving a shit about some of these characters, but i cannot be bothered to do so. this whole episode felt like a goodwill episode of d&d with a compilation of horror films rolled into one, trying to pick the best parts of it while trying to make it a really good episode. i will not deny that i did like penelope’s little speech about losing a child and how it affected her and the utter disdain for the town of riverdale to which i cannot deny i agree with because it is a twisted and tainted hellhole that even satan wants nothing to do with. it wasn’t the worst episode, but it wasn’t a masterpiece.

the whole calming tea session with penelope was very reminiscent of the remake of the texas chainsaw massacre in 2003 so now i know where i saw that before. i’m sure there’s another place, but tcm 2003. toni thinking she was actually concerned is hilarious to me because that sarcasm was layered on so think, faux concern.

this whole thing felt like pretty little liars in places: betty being taken to a place, not knowing how she got there, being told what to wear to dinner, the pink dress reminded me of mona when they went to escape the dollhouse, and the delivery of messages to the core four or three mind you since betty was still knocked out.

what i consider faux incest is what happened to penelope being it was made to look like they were siblings even though they were only adopted siblings. that doesn’t make it any less creepy and weird though. charles introducing himself just made that feeling worse for me. i get sharing a sibling means fuck all, but i just crawl into my own asshole thinking about it.

what is this though? scooby doo? solving crimes with scooby snacks on the side. however, only betty and jughead figure it out and everyone has to be told. it’s like they are the only two with an actual brain and veronica and archie are astronomically stupid when it comes to putting logical clues together. no one is that moronic when it comes to logic. can they be weak in it? yes, but come on.

i really could not give a fuck less about betty and veronica’s declaration of love to each other nor can i actually find one damn i give about veronica and archie admitting to each other that they still ache for each other. veronica gets passed around more than a bong and i just wanted to see her single without falling into the dick trap again. 

alice... alice.. alice. as much as i want to give you credit for now telling betty that you love her and care about her wellbeing, i can’t give it to you. she did the most outlandish things for this and betty suffered because of it. i don’t like betty, i admit that much, but i also don’t believe she deserved that much grief and bullshit like that. i get that alice did want to keep her protected, but i do not like the way she went about it. she took betty’s world and completely shattered it.

toni is all about cheryl. don’t get me wrong, cheryl is her girlfriend and wants to save her, but VERONICA helped save cheryl even after what she heard about josie and her being the object of c’s obsessive fixation. i get that nana rose said no names, but still... that’s short sighted.

why would veronica kiss archie when she just drank from chalices laced with a slow acting poison? like what the fuck? that’s ridiculously moronic.

so... nana rose gives a shit about cheryl, but isn’t penelope the one that was adopted, or sold to her? did her husband do that to penelope? or was nana rose apart of it as well? that’s what confuses the shit out of me.

no one was surprised by hal nor were they surprised by chic because no body, no death especially in riverdale. this is why i stated that the whole damn town needs therapy because they need it, whether they would take to it or not.

i guess when alice said that she does she her son that she actually wasn’t lying even though i find it ridiculous that since the Farm she knew damn well that charles was alive and well. she had to pretend that her son was still dead, but that still gave her no right to treat betty the way she did because she was an FBI informant [which sounds extremely outlandish, but this is riverdale so...]

i couldn’t give two squirts of piss about the relationships of this show. i think that shows by now. i liked cheryl and toni at first because well, toni gave her someone to talk to despite the initial reactions from cheryl and her disdain for her. i look at it now and i’m just not here for it anymore. 

the mystery gets lost in the background and now this show doesn’t even know how to put its pants on straight or tie its shoelaces. there is so much going on all at once that i cannot tell what’s up or down. i feel like it slows down my brain activity that i can’t focus on any of it and the only way i can even pay attention long enough to see what’s going on is making a gigantic cynical and sarcastic remarks.

honestly, i don’t hate this show and know that it isn’t supposed to be hyper realistic and this show is not that. i just have some issues with how they treat mental health issues with everyone having a problem, but no one actually tries to help and work on it, the way that it’s just softcore porn because these characters are teenagers, but they’ve been half naked and i’m supposed to believe that they aren’t acting their real life ages, the lack of character development though i get regression can happen as it feels like it gets shit all over, the writing that barely makes sense and is haphazardly given out, and some of the delivery of the dialogue. it sounds like i’m in a shakespearean play on mushrooms and it just keeps getting worse.

tl;dr: i hope it gets better. i really do. i still want v to be single though and where are the fucking adults? most of them are shit or dead. i mean come on.

istg, if i don’t hear about aliens next season, i’m gonna cry

[greenhatsinthesky]

lockdown film no. 36 - The Laundromat (2019) dir. Steven Soderbergh

22/05/2020

- dire 

- I thought this film was going to be good and I don’t think it could have been any more of a let down. One of biggest problems is that this film just doesn’t know what it is — it lurches really awkwardly between different storylines and there’s absolutely no coherence between any of the storylines. Meryl streep does well with what she’s got and I think she’s actually pretty good as someone just trying to figure out why things are the way they are and why she’s been mugged off so much. But overall the whole thing is so disjointed and split  between trying to tell a serious story of what’s going on in this specific case with Meryl Streep, and then this more comedic, fourth-wall-breaking situation with Antonio Banderas and Gary Oldman and the other cases they were involved with. structure who

- I enjoyed the relationship established between Meryl Streep and her husband, they had really nice genuine believable dialogue so it was a shame he died immediately 

- the annoying thing is that this could have worked. I don’t mind fourth wall breaks — the big short was a really good example of how straight up telling the audience what something means, and happily completely abandoning nuance and subtlety can fit with a film thats actually super serious and has a lot of heavy issues going on. When we put this film on, I was hoping it would be something similar to the big short, because the topic is similar, but this was just an incredible mess

- also gary Oldman’s accent in this? Please die in a fire

- she starts in a middle seat and ends up by the window? Come on

- having David schwimmer sat in a bar talking to people who know a lot more than we do was just so boring. Half the storylines could have been scrapped, just give me something to care about please. I don’t care about any of them

- I realised with about half an hour to go that Meryl streep was the woman in the glasses so I guess it was more entertaining this time round to realise who she was straight away

- jesus Christ jUST MAKE ONE FILM. STOP TRYING TO MAKE FIVE FILMS IN ONE IT DOESNT FUCKING WORK

- the music in this was so annoying as well. We had that really smooth drinking-cocktails-in-a-bar-on-the-beach theme when the two guys were explaining stuff to camera an like yea I get they’re meant to be comedic and yet we’re meant to hate them but still

- another one of few saving graces is that Antonio Banderas looks great in a roll neck

- the storyline with Charles (I think his name was?) was a bit confusing because we spent a lot more time with him without any particular reason as to why we should care more about him than the other storylines? Also it was supremely uncomfortable because initially I thought he was being weird with his daughter so the only saving grace was that it wasn’t his daughter and was actually his daughters friend. Which is still awfUL but at least it wasn’t incest

- he needed to get in a bin for so many reasons. Just hated him. Like everyone in that storyline was terrible and I had no reason to empathise with any of them, and not even in a fun way like in the social network where there’s something a bit more interesting going on. Also the acting when Simone hit Astrid was pretty diabolical to be fair

- when Astrid was describing her relationship with Charles I actually felt so sick not even gonna front it

- “The world is just men hiding behind piles of paper” 

- I enjoyed the bit where they talked about the difference between privacy and secrecy

- GRAPHIC BLACK MARKET ORGANS NO THANKS M8

- I didn’t know what was going on with that weird bit with the organs people and the guy who they were asking to divorce his wife and honestly I was too far gone to care at this point but that scene where they put porn on the tv was supremely uncomfortable to watch with my father, thanks

- “everyone sleeps better at night when corruption has been vanquished” ok thats metal and I like it

- having a recorder in the filing cabinet felt very hustle, and just reminded me how good hustle was and that I should be watching it instead of this

- it was strange for Meryl Streep to break the fourth wall. I didn’t like that. it would have worked if she’d been having some kind of internal monologue before this point but ohhhhh the inconsistencies

- it was a welcome break to see Barack Obama 

- the ending was… y’know, the bit where it ended. It was really annoying because films like these normally make me feel stuff, but this didn’t make me feel anything. I can imagine the bit when they realised they could have Meryl Streep as the statue of liberty right at the end because in theory thats electric but it fucking wasn’t

- it feels like they came to making this film thinking “this is a really important thing that happened and we should make a film about it” but if you can't make a good film about it then thats just a terrible way to approach it. if, first and foremost, the piece of art that you're making doesn't fulfil its function as a piece of art then it doesn't matter if it “makes a statement” or “makes us consider ourselves and the world” like if I don't care about the film without the external factors then you done fucked up. 

- how long the takes are is one of the only bits that I find impressive because that looked stressful to do

- when it cut to credits I was like “… that it?” 

- don’t bother with this honestly its diabolical

[amoralto]

Quotes for curious contemplation: John’s jealousy and possessiveness manifested in terms of family. (a compilation in progress)

Consider this a(nother) supplementary post to this ask, where I touched upon John’s absolutist outlook on relationships. Instances are specific to family, as I’ve noted in the title. More will be added as and when it occurs to me. (Other quotes for curious contemplation: John on distinguishing between best friends and partners, creative and romantic, male and female.)

If you’re wondering who else may have contributed to John’s perspective of love as a zero-sum game, here’s Aunt Mimi accusing John of, amongst other things, betraying her love by being generous to his estranged father and spending time with him:

I’ve been hurt. Cut to the quick. What do you think I felt like, when I’ve been with those Beatle parents, and have heard what they’ve done, for them? I was foolish enough to think, as I had you, and waited for you to be born, that I was father and mother to you. But my goodness, John, you didn’t want me. [laughs; bleak] You didn’t want anything to do with me. And a lifetime’s work was just thrown on one side as nothing.

And you say The Beatles were dumb. They may have been… but in many respects, they could’ve taught you a thing or two. The first thing they did was to make their parents secure. Forever. Knowing very well that they would always get it back. But oh no, you, right, left, center – anyone could have in. And then I had to ask you, this year, to help me out – a terrible thing for me, I’m telling you, it nearly killed me. I’d had the same money from 1962, and anybody with a little thought would have known that what I had was melting away, during that eleven years.

And it seems as though you hated the sight of me. You couldn’t bear the sight of me, and you never missed an opportunity to cut me down dead – in front of other people as well, which was even worse. But it didn’t do you any good, for people noticed. But you were very kind to Alfred Lennon, taking him round the West End and having him in your home. I don’t suppose it ever once crossed your mind that that would hurt me. Especially when you couldn’t stand the sight of me.

— Mimi Smith, recorded letter to John Lennon. (Early 1970s)

And because possessiveness and a sense of entitlement can linger long after the love has been lost or at least temporarily misplaced (see also John writing a song, well into househusband years no less, about the blustery American cowboy he suspected Cynthia was having an affair with in India), here’s John expressing his relief that he still effectively is the most looming presence in his father’s life and doesn’t have anyone else to compete with (while still being mindful of Mimi’s distaste for Alfred): 

Dear Alf Fred Dad Pater whatever,

It’s the first of your letters I’ve read without feeling strange – so here I am answering it – ok? As you know I’m pretty tied up at the moment, there’s a hell of lot to do – if I get time I’ll give Uncle? Charles a ring – but anyway I’ll get in touch with you before a month has passed – after that I’m going to India a couple of months so I’ll try and make sure we meet before then. I know it will be a bit awkward when we first meet and maybe for a few meetings but there’s hope for us yet. I’m glad you didn’t land yourself with a bloody big family – its put me off seeing you a little more – I’ve enough family to last me a few lifetimes – write if you feel like.

Love

John

PS Don’t spread it, I don’t want Mimi cracking up! (press I mean)

— John Lennon, letter to Alfred Lennon. (September 1st, 1967)

Where Paul is concerned, one can imagine John accompanying Paul to any number of Paul’s crowded and happy extended family gatherings and wishing, guilelessly, after that happiness and security for himself—

JOHN: I’m just turning out like all other parents, you see.

MATTHEW: [laughs] Obviously.

JOHN: But I must – I try and think about it, when [Julian]’s not there, I try to be rational. I’m trying to do it all right, but I’m sure it’ll all just turn out the same. And – I’m gonna try not to – you know. At least I’m thinking about it, now.

MATTHEW: But with that much experience behind you, now, would you like to have more children?

JOHN: Yeah, I – as many as come, you know. If Lennon roll out, as they. I like large families. The idea of it. 

— John Lennon, interview w/ Brian Matthew for Pop Profile. (November 13th, 1965)

—while also feeling resentful of and threatened by the importance of family and their emotional attachment to Paul. Consider the unpublished Record Mirror questionnaires everyone but John filled out circa early summer 1963, where John asserts himself in Paul’s answers (and past, and future):

McCartney’s response to the question regarding the biggest musical influence on his own career is initially completed in Lennon's hand in blue ink: John and why?: He's Great; McCartney scored out Lennon's confident answers replacing John's name with: Dad, adding: (he [Lennon] put that himself); as to a question about his future career if music was out, again McCartney crosses out Lennon's hand-written response: John and replaces it with: Tramp...

— Christie’s: Pop Memorabilia including the Collection of Alexis Mardas. (May 5th, 2004)

Not to mention John outright framing himself in competition with Paul’s father (and family) for Paul’s time, affection, and loyalty (the mitigating circumstances of which I’ve unpacked in the past):

[Paul] liked it with daddy and the brother… and obviously missed his mother. And his dad was the whole thing. Just simple things: he wouldn’t go against his dad and wear drainpipe trousers. And his dad was always trying to get me out of the group behind me back, I found out later. He’d say to George: “Why don’t you get rid of John, he’s just a lot of trouble. Cut your hair nice and wear baggy trousers,” like I was the bad influence because I was the eldest, so I had all the gear first usually.

So Paul was always like that. And I was always saying, “Face up to your dad, tell him to fuck off. He can’t hit you. You can kill him [laughs], he’s an old man.” I used to say, “Don’t take that shit off him.” Because I was always brought up by a woman, so maybe it was different. But I wouldn’t let the old man treat me like that. He treated Paul like a child all the time, cut his hair and telling him what to wear, at seventeen, eighteen.

But Paul would always give in to his dad. His dad told him to get a job, he fucking dropped the group and started working on the fucking lorries, saying, “I need a steady career.” We couldn’t believe it. So I said to him—my Aunt Mimi reminded me of this the other night—he rang up and said he’d got this job and couldn’t come to the group. So I told him on the phone, “Either come or you’re out.” So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me. But it was a long trip.

— John Lennon, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

John, in the same interview, immediately follows with a contemplation of the importance of family for Paul, and Linda with her “ready-made family” giving him what Jane Asher (or for that matter, John himself) couldn’t:

JOHN: So it was always the family thing, you see. If Jane [Asher] was to have a career, then that’s not going to be a cozy family, is it? All the other girls were just groupies mainly. And with Linda not only did he have a ready-made family, but she knows what he wants, obviously, and has given it to him. The complete family life. He’s in Scotland. He told me he doesn’t like English cities anymore. So that’s how it is.

MCCABE: So you think with Linda he’s found what he wanted?

JOHN: I guess so. I guess so. I just don’t understand... I never knew what he wanted in a woman because I never knew what I wanted. I knew I wanted something intelligent or something arty, whatever it was. But you don’t really know what you want until you find it. So anyway, I was very surprised with Linda. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d married Jane Asher, because it had been going on for a long time and they went through a whole ordinary love scene. But with Linda it was just like, boom! She was in and that was the end of it.

— John Lennon, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

And because I can’t stress enough that the possessiveness and jealousy and resentment and longing flows both ways, here’s John bitterly lamenting both Julian’s attachment to Paul and Paul’s natural affinity with Julian/children in general (in stark contrast to his own perception of his faculty as a father):

SCHOENBERGER: How is it for an 11-year-old boy to have John Lennon as a father?

JOHN: It must be hell.

SCHOENBERGER: Does he talk about that to you?

JOHN: No, because he is a Beatle fan. I mean, what do you expect? I think he likes Paul better than me… I have the funny feeling he wishes Paul was his Dad. But unfortunately he got me…

— John Lennon, interview w/ Francis Schoenberger. (Spring, 1975)

Julian himself would lend a measure of credence to John’s paranoia:

JULIAN: [Paul] used to be a lot of fun, I remember. I mean… well, he was good with kids. [laughs] I’m not saying that Dad wasn’t, or is, or whatever. But uh, as far as I can recall, whenever Paul came round, we used to wrestle and fight and run around. Which was not something we did every day with Dad. We used to go for long walks in fields, and stuff like that. He’d tell me things, or point at things and say, “Look at that,” and “Look at this.” So in a strange way, Paul… almost, in some ways and sense, took over the role of Dad. Which is strange to say. But I do recall a lot of that going on, you know. Whenever he was there, it was always fun.

— Julian Lennon, interview w/ Elliot Mintz. (1988)

Which must have struck an especially discordant chord with John, as he seemed determined with Sean’s birth to keep Paul from taking any more of what wasn’t his to claim:  

He became so jealous in the end. You know he wouldn’t let me even touch his baby. He got really crazy with jealousy at times.

— Paul McCartney, “off the record” conversation with Hunter Davies. (May 3rd, 1981)

Having Sean and having a new go at being a good father didn’t exactly stop John from being niggled by Paul’s family (not to mention Paul’s continuing industriousness and creative productivity, recording music and going on tour all while taking good care of his family, and all else), however:

SHEFF: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment—

JOHN: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty-five kids and about twenty million records out—how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

— John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

To round up, a non-family-specific but nonetheless pertinent discussion with John and Yoko about love, jealousy, possessiveness, allowance, and self-fulfilling prophecy:

INTERVIEWER: Do you think people’s idea of love has changed, or young people’s idea of love has changed?

JOHN: I don’t. I think whatever love is – and it’s many many things – is constant. It’s been the same forever. I don’t think it will ever change.

INTERVIEWER: But do you think – I’ll say it this way. Do you think young people are now ignoring love, disregarding love, saying it doesn’t exist?

JOHN: How can you? It’s – it’s a sort of abstract concept that comes and goes whether you like it or not. Whatever legislation or whatever philosophies people have put out about it, it exists – without words, without philosophy, and without discussion.

YOKO: Yes, but I know why children, the young kids, are trying to ignore love. That’s very natural. Because they don’t get it and they’re bitter about it, so they’d rather not want it. You know that feeling about – well, you know that you’re not going to get it, and if you try to get it it’s so much pain, so you’d rather sort of pretend like you don’t want it. And you start to believe in that, like oh, “I’m glad that I’m not the type who falls in love, and I’m so glad about it because that way I don’t have to get hurt.” That’s sort of unreal.

JOHN: And they’re probably reacting against – they’d be reacting against the conception of “righteous” love that’s handed down from above over the centuries.

YOKO: Yeah.

JOHN: That’s what they don’t want. But real love they’ll get… whether they want it or not. It’ll happen.

...

INTERVIEWER: Do you think that a new attitude towards love and relationships – would it be fair to say we’re getting away from the property concept of relationships?

JOHN: Of owning the other person? I think – yeah, we could be. But uh… That’s all very well intellectually, but when you actually are in love with somebody, you tend to be jealous and want to own them, possess them a hundred per cent. Which I do.

YOKO: Yes, it’s real life, all that. And I do it too.

JOHN: But intellectually, before that, I thought – right. I mean, owning a person is rubbish, but. I love Yoko, I want to possess her completely; I don’t want to stifle her, you know? [Yoko laughs] And that’s the danger, it’s that you want to possess them to death. But… that’s a personal problem of mine.

YOKO: But we’re doing alright now – just very nice, you know. In other words, I think—

JOHN: It’s after the beginning, when it cools down a bit – not cools down, whatever, it st– uh, whatever the word is, you know – that you can allow each other to breathe.

YOKO: Yes. When you relax a bit, you know.

JOHN: But at first you tend to strangle each other, I think.

YOKO: And [inaudible] we’re starting to relax—

JOHN: And because you have so little as a child, I think it is, you – when once you find it, you want to hang onto it, you grab it so much you tend to kill it.

— John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview for Women’s Hour. (May 28th, 1971)

Cue You made me love you / I didn’t want to do it... (Insert footage from Magical Mystery Tour of the Beatles singing the song here.)

And - it’s a bit of a self-serving interpretation of the case referenced, admittedly, but it is bizarrely appropriate, and the sentiment of each man killing the thing he loves stands:

Well, there was this Japanese monk, and it happened in the last 20 years. He was in love with this big golden temple, y’know, he really dug it, like—and you know he was so in love with it, he burnt it down so that it would never deteriorate.

That’s what I did with the Beatles.

— John Lennon, interview w/ Alan Smith for NME: At home with the Lennons. (August 7th, 1971)

(Insert John’s dramatically ironic and appropriate love for Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca during the househusband years, chewy parallels between Manderlay and the Kinkakuji and Paul/the Beatles, deranged and convoluted essay comparing John and Paul/the Beatles with Mizoguchi and the Kinkakuji as depicted in Mishima Yukio’s The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, something something Rinzai something something El Topo here.)

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

I'm so happy to hear the kids abducted to Hong Kong got to hear and see and talk to their hero that saved them today through Zoom in Brian's phone!!!

It was so lucky and such perfect timing that he called me today while the military crews were still resting in China and Wendy was able to pinpoint their locations directly!!

He truly is their Hero and we are so lucky!

I have dreamed about him for years and for years have been waking up from nightmares telling Brian McGruff is a bad dog... But always the dream would be gone when i woke up or it was before it started happening and no one knew

I even had a feeling when I ordered the kits... So I'm not sure how these kids feel through the cracks because they were on my soul to save.

I also didn't know know about human trafficking like I do now, so I think the whole "Sabrina you just have a bad feeling because it reminds you what could happen..." Is how

A few other companies, too... I had a whole list. So Thorn is gonna check that out.

It just takes one person to prove a mood. I had a list of 17 companies that day then 26 more over the next week that I had this nag on while I was "picking on" Crime the McGruff Dog

Since I kept saying it that way in 2016 and I never ever messed up his name before they took down a list of companies associated with him according to my feelings and it was an unusual list.

So this man has likely saved nearly 30 times as many children as he could have hoped.

We will soon find out. In return he's to receive a mansion an economically stable brand new automobile. Fully paid.

Because I've dreamed of him, his voice and everything. He truly is an Earth Angel.

For nearly half a decade he's been the solution to my night terrors. I know why ask those children cried. I want to cry, too, And my tears are warm.

The children were mutated and mutilated. Arms cut off and sewn onto their foreheads and given all sorts of horrible viruses and drugs.

Tree just gave them their own fresh bodies. Replicas. Some back to the age/look they were kidnapped at, some slightly grown, according to the agreement between child and parent whichever they liked the sound of best, the child's preference being the ultimate decision maker. Their DNA4U will state and show they are replicated due to the reasons of faster healing and less overall damage that would cause future problems plus they got upgrades like bullet proofing, extra speed, strength increases, stuff like that. And extra extra heavy COVID19 instead of 3 feet you'll get it at 10 feet bad enough to kill you nearly instantly.

But they were horribly mistreated, starving, mental and physical torture, so much.

So I know to talk to the one rare person in the World that could save them and did was certainly very good heart and soul medicine.

So I'm glad he called me again and I didn't answer and Brian called back from the plane.

Yes of course. He flew to Enid then China then Hong Kong... You can make a man retire but you can't ever make a man quit. And I'm glad. Just so those kids could talk to their hero.

So lucky. Of all the hundreds of people working there he's been there only 6 months. And he took that initiative to just check...

Today living kids was 443.

Dead was 198,675 which tree ghosted back to life. (Gave new bodies)

Nearly a quarter of a million children.

Times 3 is 600k then add a zero. Looking at maybe 6 million kids and young adults...

Tree estimates 400M

So a huge round of applause and a right tight hug.

And he deserves amazing amounts of pats on the back because that list would just sat around keeping dusty.

This is that old fashioned detective work like sitting at a gas meter while some one is down trying to find out how to save people (aliens included) from dying in a gas chamber and they're up there making sure that gas isn't turned on to kill the girl doing all the work -- he couldn't hear people downstairs through the street and i could get the truth out easier and faster before they even knew and I was always happy to get the news while he was just mad and angry. So i was the better to go. Cause everyone was always happy to see me. Cause I was always super nice and all interested in what they were doing.

Now unfortunately not so much.

But Charles was starting to get nightmares after my list and had came up with 14 more companies from coming from the same way i had came up with my list... So he talked to some the other people that felt creeped out about the assignment I insisted on doing and they also all added each two and then some kept a private list... Which they slowly added after verifying the company was then clean.. It started in 2013 these bad dreams.

So every time it happened or they started their nightmares they added to the list.

Overall 642 companies we dreamed of or felt or somehow had a psychic connection to. I dreamed of kids and old people and women. Some people only dreamed about men. Some just kids.

The companies we have left is 642 to check out as they hadn't had yet done any bad and no dreams or any thing has came up since...

Which isn't happy, we now know, but good news is whatever bad has happened we can fix is super special and magical ways.

So we have Thorn, CIA, Military, some FBI and some others to check what's been going on and see.

So that's about 8 Trillion that have been affected. But at least 6 Trillion have already been retrieved.

So this one single person has done the miraculous. The biggest miracle we have been waiting for on a personal level. For me its been 7 years but 6 since 9 other people started having their dreams affected and the lists began.

So 10 of us with nightmares. Night terrors. Waking up screaming or shaking or scared. And not knowing why but having a name, a company label. Sometimes or often a place on a map... As close to the actual GPS coordinates of longitude and latitude. Wake up listing numbers for no reason. Numbers that make no sense N 316941027865389421. Over and over.

Brian would look at me "what the fuck are you trying to do Morse code?"

"I'm trying to sleep thank you very much. Alan and Naomi. 38652361 I think you just messed me up"

One person. One person can make a difference. That's all it takes. One person.

One person to make sense of all these nightmares.

We don't need to be saved from them... They didn't bother so much... We could wake up. Be safe in our beds. Joke it out.

But there's people. Innocent children. Innocent adults that wake up into real living nightmares every single day.

And one person today made the phone call to make thst difference to about 200,000 kids and over 400,000 parents. And siblings and grandparents. Friends.

Just today he changed the world for at least a million whom now have a missing child come home.

Made one million hearts smile and backs release tension and sorrow.

And now we're looking at 2 trillion lost people. Who have kids. Who have parents. Grandparents. Friends.

Were gonna have at least 6 trillion hearts heal then there's soulmates so that's gonna be 12 trillion

Due to one phone call. That was all I needed.

I had heard him say he couldn't find his soulmate... And he didn't go trying to save her or find her today

He knew it was just kids.

But he knew it was missing kids because the people getting ID kits were told not to call the police only call the dog. He could see clearly kids were being abducted and they had a rating system on "easy to kidnap to hard" and the easy were always reported within weeks.

He knew it was his civil duty to call and report it somehow... But he didn't know to who or how.. Who would take it seriously.

This crazy lady might...

Im very sensitive to red flags. He didn't even have to explain. I was already on it in less than 2 minutes.

So the world is so lucky to have him and the kids today so lucky to be in Hong Kong when we just busted 600k China's citizens home.

I mean you can't get more miraculous than that!!

You would think...

But leave it to the true McGruff the Crime Dog to make sure it did.

Because it did.

Tree will update us later how extremely far this miracle went

From one person hoping and praying and taking that leap of faith.... After 10 following their true instincts and intuition.

Intuition is so important you guys. If you hadn't understood why i hope now you finally get it.

Last night I trusted mine and we pulled 13 million from slavery. That's 26 million directly affected with soulmate syndrome. Then parents that makes it times two. So 52 million then grandparents and kids...

Then one person trusted his. And kaboom an estimated 12 Trillion frowns are gonna turn upside down.

Then we are getting these bad guys off the streets, out of their homes, immediately. Hopefully they're checked thoroughly and then killed. I'm done with this baby sitting shit. Back to good ole South Texas and manual strangulation in vans after being kidnapped...but now technology has made it so much different. Much simpler to catch someone in the act. And fuck this court system, it's WWIII. Its military. We will find them guilty without a reasonable doubt and simply kill them.

There is no fucking reason over 18 million people were kidnapped in late 2019 (after October) or in any fucking time in 2020.

What is the point of a trial? Those people whom went to jail in 1990 for 20 years for kidnapping are doing it again. I sent 700 to jail. 36 are actively kidnapping. 642 are financially benefiting. The remaining are probably dead. 12 people.

Tree says i make him laugh. They are dead.

So out of 700 they're dead or kidnapping or in the human trafficking market.

So, there is No change and no Rehabilitation. There is PROOF.

So human trafficking ass holes y'all can thank those 688. Because now you're all just gonna fucking die.

What are you gonna do to me? Not a dam thing. That's what. So think about bull shit. Cry about your stupid life. I don't care.

But I'm taking all your money to pay the victims and im killing you, human traffickers.

And you ain't doing shit about it.

And those about to be trying to hurt someone to retaliate. I already put alerts on you.

So when you're pushed out a plane in the middle of no where so wild animals can eat you... Well don't complain to me. Animals need to eat, too

And surviving good humans. Don't worry... When the bodies hit the ground. They pretty much explode so they're just ground meat basically and bones crush and they wre just big piles of food. They don't look human

So some bear isnt going to come out the mountains and be all "man I just ate something that looked like you and was mighty tastey!" The bodies are unrecognizable.

If you're curious... Idk if you still can.. We used to can look up bodies that had been tossed or jumped out of Windows. Back in 2000 I found a website and I would go through and examine them and see which were pushed and which had jumped

I could tell the difference. Anyway if they're in Google you'll see they don't look human. They're pretty gross -- some do -- so ew be careful but from the plane height trust me they do not.

And its very careful with software to show no damage to trees or animals will occur.. And the software is very intelligent and cautious and only certain types of people can access it. Like a kidnapper can't turn on the computer and see where and how. But a Clark Kent or Louis Lane or someone can. But if an evil Donald Trump sits down next to, the software will shut down. Immediately. And lock out any user until hes removed.

I'm not fucking dumb. Sometimes I just don't know what to do and Need an Earth Angel to make one phone call

Or a guilty person to confess. Or a clue. A bad dream. A nightmare in my sleep. Or being in the right place at the right time. Like when the kidnappers gas up at night at the gas station.

Otherwise I'm fucking brilliant. Overprotective and caring.

So any one tries to dump innocent people out of planes, the door simply will not open. Magic it is called. Its already happened. And it will not happen again.

Anyway for all the 007 Peirces that can stab so hard it hurts and heals at the same time.

This one is for you.

Thank you!

Lets really bust a move on that intuition. Its a life saver.

Man we are so so so so so so lucky today!!!

I couldn't be more thank ful!!

All of our military and cops that are ready and qualified and remember how to rescue from bunkers.

We need y'all. Don't forget to stay safe and well.

And our essientals and just our stay homers.

And beach goers.

[rigelmejo]

random june notes:

japanese:

i probably WOULD improve in japanese at this point if i just like. made a schedule to play video games regularly lol. i know enough kanji “roughly” through hanzi. yes, it would be brutal. it would also be brutal figuring out the hiragana words that like help (are not common particles but mean stuff like ‘and’ or ‘a lot’) since those words are necessary to comprehend but not kanji. i do think if i used the dictionary app on my phone while playing, it would be fine, i’d get through enough to eventually improve in japanese. would it be brutally draining at first? yeah... would studying more of the nukemarine memrise decks help... yes ;-;.

so all i’m saying is - i COULD just study with games at this point. it would be harder than using other stuff too, but i Could. so technically i have no excuse to not study more except - no time right now.

that said i want to read my ‘reading japanese’ books and feel the urge to, so i’m just going to do what i want.

also likewise, i think the Wasabi Japanese lesson plans would help me a LOT with listening and speaking skills - which are 2 areas i’d benefit from studying, so i kind of want to do those lessons more when i have time! 

So yeah my “official” plan right now is: Finish reading Japanese in 30 Hours, finish Nukemarine Memrise courses, read other books as desired, do some Wasabi Japanese lessons, read manga/play games as desired.

french:

i want to keep doing and finish le francais par le method nature. do i have time? later but not really rn.

also i just recently remembered i liked Charles Duff’s french textbooks.

korean:

do you ever want to study a language just because the teacher is cute? do you ever want to just because you’re watching more kdramas and maybe you’d focus more if you were listening to the words, and just found your old Korean at A Glance book and kind of want an excuse to read it? Yeah ToT. yeah i’m really feeling the urge to just study korean short term and see how much i can learn. (An excuse to test comprehensible input method at least you know? Because the Learn Korean in Korean youtube is REALLY good and i WANT to watch it even though i have no big reason to, and i like the teacher’s vibe ToT). who knows if i’m just gonna. fuck around and do that for fun.

Chinese:

WELL i had a humbling experience yesterday lol! I found out I can follow Guardian audiobook MUCH LESS WELL if its made by a different speaker. I can follow Avenue x’s audiobook super well (and she does different voices for each character, different audio for each scene). I just tried listening to someone else’s Guardian audiobook yesterday, and except for some key familiar lines? I couldn’t pick up a lot the first listening. Which!! I guess means YES who you practice listening to matters a lot lol. So I am currently RE-DOING step 2 of L-R method (chinese audio, chinese text) with the new audiobook. Because with the text I can easily understand this new audiobook and follow along (I do KNOW most of the words in reading lol now thanks to the prior L-R sessions). But without text? Oh man I was drowning. On the upside - this means I’m doing more listening/reading practice again in chinese! Downside is YES I am still procrastinating future L-R chapters lol. At least I’m doing something I find fun.

I am watching a LOT of cdramas lately. Mainly with eng subs because its just for fun. Although I got the urge to watch The Shaw Eleven Lang again which is only chinese subbed so. But yeah - I am trying to use these shows as some listening practice/shadowing lines every few minutes/looking up new words every few minutes. It’s not intensive, its probably barely study, but its what I’m actually doing so might as well mention it.

basically i’m just kind of playing around this month. i needed a break from intensive study i guess, and more time just reminding me what i like doing? ToT

i also want to finish reading the DeFrancis Readers I just. have no time rn.

(there were many good things about learning chinese). i think one thing i’m really glad i got through in chinese was the initial hump of starting to learn hanzi? I truly think its because the book Tuttle Learn Chinese Characters (800 characters) just used an approach that really clicked with me. After that, I could use the same mnemonic method more or less to learn more on my own through words, and chinese words use hanzi pretty logically. Now, when i do go into japanese again, one of the biggest hurdles of just ‘basically recognizing’ kanji is over. I still need to learn all the kanji pronunciations, and specific words, but just having them be symbols i recognize and can interpret on some level makes them so much less daunting. and if i hadn’t gotten over that initial ‘1000 hanzi’ hump lol, then i would still be finding chinese and japanese unbearably daunting. in 2.5 years in japanese i never got past 500 characters. in 6 months i got through 1000 in chinese, and that really just helped so much. now when i learn new characters in reading it is rarely as hard to recognize their radicals and potential meanings and sound and quickly get a vague recognition of them. 

also shout out to chinese for having grammar that just ‘clicks.’ yes i make mistakes (and forgot SO much that i now know intuitively so i no longer remember the actual rules and need to review). but simply comprehension wise it did NOT take long to figure out (like a year?). and just. whenever i go back to french or japanese i’m always like oh god oh no i FORGOT conjugation exists. ;-; i really love and appreciate how when you learn a chinese word you LEARN THE WHOLE WORD - not just one conjugation. that IS the whole word you need to recognize - if its used in past tense, in different ways, it will ALWAYS sound the same and be spelled with those hanzi and that is NICE. its just like... with french or english or japanese you’re really learning like 8+ words when you learn one word, with all the conjugations you have to make. with chinese i think the way the grammar works makes it less effort for each individual word which wow do i appreciate...

[snk-oc-guide]

(still in the works but would like criticism for an oc)

rowan: idk how long it's been since you've submitted your oc, but i'm finally getting back into snk and decided to dust off the blog. thank you for submitting her to us!

Name: Fae Chevalier Nicknames: Pixie

Species: Human Gender: Female Birthday: 04/10/835 Age: 15 (I know she'd be 19 I'm just writing this from her graduation days)

Appearance

Hair: Mid back dark brown hair however it is always in a tight high ponytail Eyes: Amber doe shaped eyes Distinguishable Features: A beauty spot under each eye Skin: Tan Mouth: Full Eyebrows: Straight

Personality

Fae is a very extroverted, sassy and loud social butterfly. Though Fae is arrogant and dramatic leading her to be quite unlikable. She is very flirtatious and is always looking for cute boys. Fae is manipulative and able to remain charismatic and fake for people to like her. In serious situations she fails to remain serious making her childish.

Best friends: Eren- though they have a rocky relationship due to the fact they're both quite headstrong, it's like an enemies to lovers ygm 😉😌😏

Close friends: Ymir and Historia- Ymir criticizes and bullies Fae a lot however Fae never fails to entertain her

Love interest: Eren

rowan: fae is kinda reminding me of jean LOL, just in the fact that she would probably piss eren off, rather than attract him. i could definitely see them fighting a lot, but fae seems like she'd start fights on purpose to get a rise out of him haha. i don't think eren would be the best match for fae, not because of the fighting but because eren probably would think she doesn't take the fight against the titans seriously. especially if she can't remain serious in actual serious situations.

i would remove the bit about them being just friends, and just call them rivals or at the most, frenemies.

Family

Parents: Amelia and Charles Chevalier Residence: Wall Sina

Backstory:

Fae grew up in a privileged family. Though her parents had to work hard for what they had, always busy managing the estates and pastures they owned. Because of this Fae rarely interacted with her parents, leading for her to develop a hatred towards the system. Her parents weren't paid enough to be free, they were paid just enough so they can stay alive and come back to work.

rowan: this doesn't really describe a "privileged" family. if that were the case, her parents wouldn't work so hard and get paid "just enough". if anything this sounds like a family of the working/middle class. in a way they're more privileged than the lower class, yes. but i would only call them "privileged" if they were better off money wise or at least living more comfortably.

also, if they're residing within wall sina, i don't think they'd be taking care of any pastures. i feel like that's something more common in wall rose and maria. sina is kind of pretentious, so i feel like "vineyards" and the like would be more common. that is just my opinion though, and not something that is a canon fact.

This hatred would only grow with every passing day. As she would watch the people in the town she would realize that it was the elderly who were truly free. They were the ones with the wealth and leisure to do whatever they wanted and yet their bodies were rotten and had no energy. Soon she came to the conclusion that the system of schooling and working is all for the preparation of retirement. Yet she did not want to live a life like this, she didn't want to only achieve freedom when her body was towards its end. She didn't want to have kids or get married simply because it was part of the bucket list of life. No, Fae longed for an unconventional life. So when her parents announced to her an arranged marriage she said fuck you (not literally) and decided this was her turning point. She left her family, who was very unsupported of her dream and went to join the Survey Corps as a way to live a thrilling and adventurous life. This was her way to escape the system.

rowan: an arranged marriage sounds kind of odd, since her family isn't a prestigious family or anything. they sound like just a working family and no one of importance. so who would want to go through an arranged marriage with them, and how would it benefit them?

this can easily be remedied by changing up the backstory and making them a true "privileged" household. make them a noble family, where their name is well-known amongst those that can afford it. perhaps they're the owners of a well-known winery? cuisine? dresses? think "fancy" lol.

with that change, it would also mean while her parents may be busy running a business, it doesn't mean they're the ones doing all the work themselves since they have employees to do all of the heavy lifting and etc.

Statistics

3DMG: 10/10 Agility: 8/10 Combat: 5/10 (I'm gonna be honest I got no clue what this means) Initiative: 8/10 Intelligence: 3/10 Stamina: 6/10 Strength: 4/10 Teamwork: 6/10 Willpower: 9/10 [Social skills]: 10/10

rowan: lol! so the combat stat is literally just that: combat. it has to do with fighting and etc. like hand-to-hand fighting and what not.

now, i will say, with your character's background i think a couple of these are a bit too high. if she's from a privileged household within wall sina, i would say she is a sheltered person and doesn't know the basic thing about "roughing it". in other words, she joined the training corps with a blank skill set and nothing going for her. she definitely didn't graduate at the top ten.

here is what i would adjust them to look like:

3DMG: 8/10 Agility: 9/10 (to par with her high 3DMG stat. also i think her agility could be high due to her upbringing. if she is from a nice family, they've probably require her to learn how to dance) Combat: 3/10 Initiative: 10/10 (you mentioned she is headstrong, and not only that her main goal for joining the survey corps was to break out of the mold her parents had built around her. so i think she is definitely a motivated person and one to take control of her situation) Intelligence: 6/10 (you have to be at least a little bit smart to be manipulative) Stamina: 6/10 Strength: 4/10 Teamwork: 7/10 (her social skills are high, so i feel as if she should be a little bit better with teamwork) Willpower: 9/10 Social Skills: 10/10

and that's all i have to add! i hope my commentary and tweaks helped at least a little bit! also remember to take my advice with a grain of salt; all of my changes are optional to you :)