#Every Frame While We Dance collab project

[azfellschild]

sneak peak of my frame before the official release of the project tomorrow👀

[yuta-nakamots]

crush - n.jm

Pairing - Jaemin x Reader

Genre - High School!AU, Fluff, Angst

Warnings - None (if you feel that I should add a warning please lmk)

Summary - Na Jaemin was the boy who had protected you from bullies, let you copy his homework, shared his snacks with you, and practically doted on you like a mother. It would only make sense for you to develop a crush on him though not all loves are meant to last, especially when your overbearing feelings crush themselves.

Word Count - 5.3k

A/N - Bolded phrases are song lyrics taken from Crush by Tessa Violet.

Taglist - @ukiyoneo​ @badwithten @yasmini24 @luvlyjaemin​ @jimjamjaemin​ @loeygotospacenow

Written for the Summertime Tunes Collab hosted by @mismatchmark​ and @croissanct​. Also part of the NeoWinter Festival hosted by @czennienet​.

Song: Crush by Tessa Violet. Color - Pink.

“I swear the answer for the last question was the Mandela effect,” you exclaimed, “you know, the one where you think you remember something but it’s totally different?”

Jaemin’s infectious laugh filled the interior of the car. “No no no, I think you’re mistaken,” he wagged a finger at you without taking his eyes off the road, “the question wasn’t asking about the memory of an individual, it was asking about the memory of a group, like a large mass of witnesses to a crime.”

A cold wave of despair hit you when you realized that you utterly screwed up on the largest question on your first exam of senior year. It was such an easy question yet you carelessly answered it, just wanting to go home as soon as the bell rang. That and getting to be with Jaemin, whom you’ve been crushing on since sophomore year.

You and Jaemin actually hadn’t become friends on your own terms. The two of you first met as freshmen and had to work on a group project in history together and that’s when you got his number. You didn’t talk to him for the rest of the year though. Then in sophomore year, again, you had the luck of being with him for a project, though this time it was just the two of you and it was for chemistry instead.

“Ooh, let’s do an experiment with salt,” Jaemin suggested as you gave him a questioning look, “it’s part of my nickname.”

“What? Salt? People call you salt?” You were utterly at a loss for words.

He shook his head, “no, didn’t you know? My nickname is Nana, from Na Jaemin...like N-A? Salt? Get it?”

You let out a slight wheeze when you understood what he was getting at. “Yeah, okay, we can do one with salt as long as it’s not too complicated.”

He had chosen to do an experiment on finding what method of food preservation kept produce fresh the longest, and salt was one of them. Your classmates ended up choosing your project as the most creative since they were all amused by the way Jaemin had placed pictures of himself around the section of the presentation board relating to the effectiveness of the salt treatment.

Ever since then, whenever there was a project in any of the classes you shared with Jaemin, he’d always gravitate towards you and ask you to be his partner. Eventually, after being assigned a large physics project, the two of you were deciding whose house to do the experiment at, and after sharing addresses, both of you realized that you lived only two blocks away from each other.

Just to keep things safe, it was agreed that the experiment would be done at Jaemin’s house under the supervision of his older brother who majored in something in the science field and volunteered to look after you guys and make sure no one died. The walks to his house weren’t awkward, in fact, they were quite fun and interesting considering how talkative Jaemin was. Even after your project was completed, he’d continue walking with you since your house was on the way to his.

In junior year, the two of you drifted apart as you both found your own friend groups and started hanging out with them more but in senior year, Jaemin pulled you both back together when he called you in the morning to ask if you’d like a ride to school.

“I mean, yeah sure I guess.” You had responded as you finished packing your bag. What you expected was for him to pull up in the passenger seat of his brother’s black car, the loud J-Rock music vibrating the frame of it. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to be the one driving the car, his older brother nowhere in sight. “Y-you can drive?!”

“Yeah, got my license over summer.” He replied nonchalantly, taking a bite of a small sandwich wrapped in Starbucks napkins. “My brother graduated early and went to Japan for grad school so he said I can use his car once I get licensed. Pretty cool, right?”

When you finally looked at him after getting into the passenger seat, you realized just how much he was starting to change. You had noticed his voice getting lower and the way his shoulders seemed to be broader but now even his face seemed to be slightly sharper and more mature. “Hey, answer me,” he said, interrupting your trance, “just because my brother’s gone doesn’t mean you can give me those sad eyes because you had a crush on him and didn’t get the chance to tell him.”

“I do not have a crush on your brother,” you began as Jaemin drove you to school, “that’s so gross, he’s like a whole five years older than me.”

“Mmhmm, I literally heard you tell June that you liked him.”

“I didn’t, I swear.” The truth is, the day he had heard you, you were telling your friend June about your crush on Jaemin before your shared trigonometry class and he had just so happened to come into the classroom early that day and overheard the tail end of it where his name was mentioned. June had covered it up by saying that you had a crush on his older brother, which you went along with since you didn’t want Jaemin to know that it was actually him that you were talking about. Hopefully one day you’d get to tell him this story and laugh about how childish you were, but for now, you kept to yourself.

From that day on, Jaemin made sure to take you to school and back once the day was over, insisting that it only makes sense since your houses are so close to each other. It’s not like you were really complaining though because it meant more time for you to be with him.

A week before homecoming, Jaemin came to pick you up in the morning as usual, his car slick from the morning dew that was on the roads. He waved at you as you came down your driveway, unlocking the door for you. “How’s my princess doing on this fine morning?” He asks once you open the door and place your bag inside.

“Tired.” You state plainly. “Nearly slept through my alarm.”

“Would you like some coffee?” He looks down at his coffee that blends in with the black coloring of the console and seats. You make a face of disgust at him, scrunching up your nose and mocking the action of vomiting. “Alright, okay, I get it.” He laughs out as you buckle yourself in.

After you were comfortably seated in Jaemin’s car, there was a calming silence as he pulled away from the curb and navigated his way out of your neighborhood. The silence was only broken when he stopped under a fresh red light, prepared to wait for a bit. “So the homecoming dance is coming up,” you let out a short hum to acknowledge him while scrolling through social media, “do you have someone that you’re planning on going with?”

You shook your head, “I have someone in mind but I don’t know if they’d want to go with me.”

“Oh, who is it?” Jaemin asks as the light turns green, signaling for him to make the pass through the intersection.

“It’s you.” Turning to look at him, you see his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed together. “Would you like to go with me to the homecoming dance?” The mere seconds it took him to respond to your question felt like hours but you didn’t mind, not when he looked so handsome and relaxed in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console.

You make it difficult to not overthink

His hesitation was evident but eventually, he replied, “sure, I’ll go with you.”

The dress you wore was a pretty shade of pink, one that complemented your skin tone nicely and Jaemin wore a matching pink button-down shirt paired with black ripped jeans which you were sure he stole from his brother’s closet. Your friends nicely complimented your outfits and asked when the two of you would be official, at which both of you replied “it’s not like that” or “I don’t like them that way” or some other variation of it.

June looked at you knowingly from the other side of the table every time that happened, knowing how badly you hoped for his words to be only a front he was putting up and that maybe, just maybe, he thought of you as more than a friend. But the little hope you had was put to rest when Yunhee, one of the girls from his friend group, came by and pulled him away, telling him that Jeno, his best friend, wanted to take group pictures together.

Jaemin didn’t return to the table until the winner of the homecoming spirit trophy was about to be announced. He shared a look of excitement with you as both of you did a drumroll on the table before Haechan, the student body president yelled out, “the seniors, class of 2018, are the winners of this year’s homecoming spirit trophy!” Jaemin jumped out of his seat and hugged you out of joy before running off to celebrate with the rest of his friends at their table.

Again, he did not return until the lights were dimmed and the music volume was raised. “Would you like to dance, m’lady?” He asked as he held his hand out for you to take. The rest of your friends let out giggles at the gesture and cooed when you placed your hand in his and followed him to the dance floor.

He let go of your hand as the two of you faced each other and started moving to the beat of ‘Let’s Fall in Love for the Night’ while mouthing the words to each other. With every line mouthed, you felt your heart swell for Jaemin because it was as if this song were written for the two of you.

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight.” He told you as the song slowed down.

“I can say the same for you too.” Your eyes met him as you smiled at him.

His smile mirrored yours with the same playful affection. “Then why don’t you?”

You weren’t even given the chance to do so when Yunhee appeared once again, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him in the direction of where the other nominees for homecoming court were gathering. “They’re announcing the winners, come on,” she informed him as she began pulling him away, “you look good tonight though, you too, y/n, I guess.”

Yunhee had always been playing some sick passive-aggressive game with you and you never understood why. Jaemin encouraged you to just brush it off every time it happened, but you simply couldn’t, not when it has continued for three years now. You were about to open your mouth and say something back to her but you held yourself back, not wanting to sour the mood for everyone else.

Without Jaemin dancing with you and not knowing if the rest of your friends were on the dance floor, you returned to your table just as Haechan stepped out to announce the winners of the homecoming court. June came to sit next to you, occupying Jaemin’s seat as you laughed at the way her makeup was slightly smudged from when she accidentally rubbed her eye. “I’m glad I can still make you laugh.” She said as she gave you a sad smile, already having you like an open book.

The two of you became engrossed in a conversation about how hard it was to do your hair and makeup earlier, effectively drowning out the naming and cheers for the winners of the court until one name was able to make your heart stop. “Na Jaemin.” You turned around in your seat to see as Jaemin was crowned homecoming king and went to stand alongside Yunhee, who smiled at him as she donned a similar crown, making her his queen.

June took you home that night, leaving behind her own date for you as you struggled to hold back your tears, seeing Jaemin dance with another girl. “It’s just for homecoming, he probably doesn’t even like her that much.” June reassured while rubbing your back. You wanted so badly to believe her but there was just something inside you that wouldn’t allow you to do so.

Homecoming passed quickly, though not quickly enough for your liking, and as much as you were glad to put some distance between that night, you weren’t as glad to be swamped with work again. You were supposed to be thinking about how Pavlov experimented with classical conditioning yet you were the one feeling classically conditioned to think about Jaemin.

He occupied your mind whenever you weren’t extremely focused on something. Everything you thought about brought you back to him. Even now, you debated on whether it would be a good idea or not to classically train him to like you.

I can’t focus on what needs to get done

Your phone buzzed from its spot on your desk, plucking you from your experimental daydream, only to send you on a rollercoaster as you read the notification on your screen.

nana > y/n

7:31pm: wanna go get food with me?

y/n > nana

7:31pm: right now?

nana > y/n

7:31pm: yeah

y/n > nana

7:31pm: sure, i’ll be ready in a bit

nana > y/n

7:32pm: thank god cuz i’m outside already

You figured your psychology notes could wait for a bit, especially when the reason was Jaemin. With finals coming up soon and the impending doom of graduation and college, you wanted to make the most of every moment you had with him, even if it was nights spent getting McDonald’s and eating it at an elementary school playground, seated side by side at the top of the slide while looking at the stars.

“I wonder why people say ‘shooting stars’ and ‘falling like the stars’ because they can’t do both, right?” Jaemin pondered through a mouthful of french fries.

“Stars don’t fall, silly.” You remarked, truly questioning how he had such good grades in his classes yet didn’t seem to know such trivial things.

He continued staring up at the night sky before responding. “Well if they did, I think I’d be one of them.”

You looked at him, entertaining his wonderings while sipping some Sprite. “Oh? Now, why is that?”

“Because I think I’ve fallen for you.”

Your mouth opened ever so slightly out of shock and you felt as if you were frozen when he took the drink out of your hands, placing it gently behind the two of you before putting a hand on your jaw, holding your steady as he gave you your first kiss.

When he pulled away, you were still having trouble processing what just happened and left him hanging, but in a few seconds you had one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek as you pulled him in to kiss him for real this time. Jaemin let out a noise of surprise though he quickly recovered and his lips began moving with the shape of yours.

You immediately felt insecure from how confident he seemed, thinking that he probably already had prior experience, so you pulled away, not wanting to embarrass yourself if he thought you were a bad kisser. Both of you pulled away, slightly out of breath.

“Was I your first kiss?” He asked. You nodded in response, looking anywhere but at him. “Good, because you were mine.” Your eyebrows raised in shock and you turned to him, only for his lips to meet yours once again.

And I’m just tryna play it cool now

The two of you stayed at the playground for what could have easily been another hour talking about your futures and kissing each other. It was then that the two of you found a common college on both of your lists of possible schools and agreed to go there if both of you got in. When Jaemin dropped you off later that night, he sent you off with one last kiss and a smile, reminding you to study for your psychology final next week.

The in-class reviews for the said exam could’ve easily been thrown out the window for you since all you did was stare at Jaemin from the other side of the room. June asked you and your friends something about mental maps but the only mental map you were creating was that of the house you’d live in with Jaemin someday.

But I could be your crush...throw you for a rush

Even during the final exam itself, you couldn’t help but glance over at him and think about how handsome he was. It was only when one of your friends sneezed and Jaemin looked over to say ‘bless you’ that you averted your eyes back to the papers in front of you, not wanting him to catch you in your daydreams.

And I’m pretending you ain’t on my mind

But with the wrapping up of your classes and all the finals being taken, it also signaled the end of the semester and the start of winter break, which Jaemin would be spending in Japan visiting his older brother. When he left, it felt like he took a piece of you with him. He was always on your mind and you practically glued to your phone, anxiously waiting for a message from him. To be fair, he did promise to update you at least once a day on all the fun things he did.

Hoping you’d text me

You were the first like and comment on all of his social media updates, unashamedly. The most recent being a video of him and his older brother having a snowball fight at the ski resort they were visiting.

In the video, Jaemin threw a snowball at his brother who let out a yell in surprise, his dyed-blue hair now covered in white. “Hey! Come back here!” He yelled as he knelt to the ground, gathering his own snowball to throw back at Jaemin.

Jaemin ran away to a small stack of snowballs, giggling as he grabbed another one and launched it again at his brother, only angering him further. “How about you respect your elders, huh?” His brother shouted as he threw his first snowball at Jaemin, which would’ve hit him square in the face if he didn’t turn around as fast as he did.

“No headshots, you bully!” He pouted, rubbing the spot the snowball hit, just to be hit twice more by his brother. “Hey, I’m injured!”

“Now you know how I feel playing PUBG with you, kid.” His brother shot back.

na.jaemin0813 - he put up a good fight but i think i won

ynn0018 - you definitely did. I miss you tho :’( come home soon pls

You checked the post again when he replied to your comment and read through some of the other comments, feeling jealous when you see that he also replied to the other girls who left messages though you quickly eased yourself when you say that he gave you the longest response with the most emojis.

na.jaemin0813 > ynn0018 - i miss you too 😘😘 i’ll be back sooner than you know it <3

Jaemin stayed true to his word, texting you every day, and making sure you weren’t too bored without him. He filmed his own short little vlogs and sent them to you throughout the day and did a longer video at the end of the day as he got ready for bed. You’d watch them whenever you got bored or thought of him and the days didn’t seem all that long without him physically there with you.

When Jaemin returned from Japan and the break ended, the two of you were the closest you’ve ever been. You did nearly everything together like eating lunch, studying for tests, even facetiming each other while doing homework though neither of you really spoke much.

Thanks to Jaemin being so overprepared and not wanting to live in his brother’s shadows, his early application to colleges motivated you to do the same and within the first month of the year, both of you had acceptance letters to the school where you could chase your dreams together and not have to risk doing a long-distance relationship. If fate and soulmates truly existed, you knew this would be it.

The third quarter of the school year goes by quickly, the rest of your friends receiving their acceptance letters after you and slowly announcing their future schools and plans after graduation. Things felt like they were falling into place, just the way they should be and you thought you could never be happier.

During spring break, you and Jaemin even took your senior portraits together at the local botanical garden, the sunset behind the flowers turning the sky a fiery shade of pink. “I want to see more of these sunsets with you,” Jaemin admits after you both decide you’re satisfied with how the pictures came out, “Japan has these same types of sunsets and I wish you were there to see them with me.”

“Let’s go then,” you tell him, excited as you imagine the sight of you and him traveling the world and watching many more beautiful sunsets, “after we graduate, let’s go to Japan, just the two of us. We can visit your brother too and he can even be our tour guide.”

You’re my permanent vacation

From then on, both of you vowed to ‘grow up’ a little more to show your parents that you could be trusted to travel on your own. One of the biggest things you set out to do was to get your license, which of course Jaemin is initially against but eventually comes to terms with and becomes your biggest supporter, letting your drive the two of you to school and home on days when traffic wasn’t too heavy. Of course, you couldn’t get your license in just a few months but you told yourself you’d get it as soon as you were able to.

At school, prom was drawing nearer which meant promposals were happening left and right. Jaemin hadn’t said anything about going to prom together yet or if he was going at all so you thought it would be nice to turn the tables and do something nice for him since he was the one always driving you places, buying you food, giving you gifts, and just, in general, being the best ‘boyfriend’ you could ask for.

You told June about your plans but she surprisingly warned you against it. “Wait, why shouldn’t I do this? I thought you wanted me to get with Jaemin?” You question, taken aback at how quickly your best friend seemed to have turned on you.

“I do, but I think maybe you should wait a bit.” She reasoned.

“He hasn’t said anything yet though, or even mentioned the word ‘prom’ to me, so I don’t think he’s planning on going.”

“He must have a reason, like what if he doesn’t-”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m trying to get him to go. Because if I ask him, then for sure he’ll say yes, right?” You interrupt.

June pauses. “Well, yeah, he’d probably say yes, but like, keep in mind that you guys aren’t even official so there’s no guarantee.”

You roll your eyes at her. “Whatever. I thought you were supposed to be my best friend and support me no matter what.”

“Y/n, no, that’s not what I meant-”

“Save it, I don’t want to hear it.”

You stuck your ground and went home that day, ready to think up a cheesy pick-up line and design a poster asking Jaemin to prom. The day after that, you put the first part of your plan into motion and created the poster, drawing out your message in big, bold lettering and coloring them pink.

‘If I were a star, I’d be a falling star because I’ve fallen for you. Prom?’

You waited until Thursday to buy a bouquet of flowers after school, telling Jaemin that you needed to pick something up from the store and he could just drop you off there. You also told him that your parents were cool with letting you drive one of their cars so you didn’t need a ride to school on Friday morning. The second of which was harder to convince him of, but you did it nonetheless.

And I’m not tryna be with you now

You came to school, rushing to store the flowers and poster in your locker so that Jaemin doesn’t see them. The adrenaline doesn’t leave your body until after the first period ends, your mind already overwhelmed from being a TA and having to deal with freshmen for an hour.

When you arrive at your psychology class, you excitedly tell June about your plans for the day and how you were going to ask Jaemin to prom after school gets out, which she makes a face at. “Okay, now tell me, what is going on with you and your aversion to me asking Jaemin to prom?”

“Look, I’m not against it,” she began, her eyes drifting off to somewhere else, “it’s just that…”

“What, June, what could it possibly be?” You spit, getting angry at how your own best friend didn’t want to see you happy.

Her eyes snapped back to your face. “You know what? If you’re so intent on doing it, fine. I won’t stop you. I told you that I support you and Jaemin together so I don’t get why you’re so upset.”

Just as you were about to fire back, Jaemin walked through the door with Jeno so you quickly changed your expression to smile at him before muttering to June “I’m going to ask him to prom and prove that whatever you’re hiding from me is wrong.”

The next two periods seemed to drag by, you just wanted the day to go faster so you could finally do what you’ve been waiting for. During lunch you went to your usual spot, shaded underneath a tree by the cafeteria, pulling out your homework as you wait for Jaemin when you suddenly hear a commotion happening on the other side of the building.

Out of curiosity, you stood up and walked over just enough to get a glimpse of what was happening in the large ring of students. There were two people. Jaemin and Yunhee. You watched as Jaemin held open his own poster asking Yunhee to prom and you see her nod her head before pulling him in for a hug.

Any hope you previously had was crushed.

You didn’t feel like doing anything productive for the rest of the day. Instead of staying under the protection of the large tree, you packed up your belongings and went to your last class of the day, waiting for lunch to end. It was a study hall anyway so you figured you might as well get a head start at being unproductive for an hour.

Scrolling through social media didn’t help your cause in the slightest. Jaemin’s promposal was everywhere. But he and Yunhee posted about it, everyone who had recorded the event posted it on their stories, comments were flying left and right and it was all too much.

When you got home that day, you turned off your phone for the first time since god knows when and set to working on all your assignments just to keep your mind off of him. Even the mention of his name seemed taboo now. Once you deemed that enough schoolwork had been done, you went about cleaning your room and pulled up a ‘summertime tunes’ playlist on youtube to keep your mind occupied though it seemed like the world was against you today when ‘Crush’ started playing.

Maybe if I’m busy it could keep me from you

You shut Jaemin out of your life, blocking his number and his social media accounts. Legally, you could not get your license yet so you settled for having your parents take you to school. In class you sat as far away from him as possible and ditched your lunch spot, instead opting to spend lunch sitting in your next class and you were glad that your teachers didn’t mind you intruding on their break and if they did, they were kind enough to allow you to stay.

Exactly one month after that mistake of a day, you went to prom with your group of friends after patching up your relationship with June, though there was no undoing your harsh words the same way there was no undoing your purchase of the pink prom dress thinking that you’d be going with Jaemin as your date.

Whenever you looked down, you were disgusted by the color, wanting to rip it off of you and never have anything to do with anything pink ever again. Your friends accused you of being a downer the whole night, but you couldn’t help it when you knew Jaemin was probably having the time of his life with Yunhee at their table, Jeno right at his side with his own date.

“Come on, cheer up a bit, you still have us.” June kindly told you.

“I know, it’s just,” you put your head in your hands, careful of your makeup, “this is not the way I dreamt of things going.”

June shook her head. “Well, some dreams are better left as dreams. Just wait, Jaemin will get his karma, I promise you.”

“It better come soon because I’m getting sick of seeing them together.” You nodded over to where he was dancing with Yunhee. You didn’t dare look at them, not wanting to see his stupidly handsome face and his dumb smile or the way she blushed at his compliments and the way her pink nails matched his pink tie.

You left the hotel ballroom that night vowing to yourself that you’d never speak to Na Jaemin again. Your friends fully supported you on this endeavor and your group became the tightest you’ve ever been even if it was only for the last month of your high school career. Graduation came and went, the special night was spent having your own mini party at one of your friends’ house after the ceremony and you might have even had a bit to drink.

Summer felt like an odd daydream of sorts though you were immensely grateful for the break since it allowed you to not have to see Jaemin’s face almost every day of the week. Both of you acted as if the other person didn’t exist and you hoped to keep it that way for a long time. Even when you saw him out of the corner of your eye at freshmen orientation on your college campus, you reminded yourself of the promise you made on prom night.

“Y/n, hey!” He called out to you, walking in your direction.

You looked over at him, giving him a slight smile before turning away and walking off to sit with some of the other people you met earlier while doing some of the icebreaker activities.

Sorry

Some crushes are better kept a crush.

[sunflowerhae]

-> Forgotten Love [M.L]

Requested by • @sweetie-yoongi7 hope you like it bb!✨🐌🍄

•3.7k

warnings• slight verbal abuse, language, a fight 👊💥😤

“Write about an experience where someone you love hurt you. Explain the situation, what was done or said, how you both responded, and what the outcome was. Must be 5 full pages long, and in MLA format. God, how annoying is that? I mean, what do I write about, my mom not letting me get McDonald’s one time because we had food at home?” You scoffed while pushing yourself back into your chair at the cool, air conditioned coffee shop you currently found yourself in. Summer was just officially ending, and October was creeping it’s way into the year, which meant the air wasn’t exactly hot, but it definitely wasn’t cool enough to walk around with a jacket on. You found solace in the beige and dark brown toned drink house, that smelled like coffee beans and lured in customers with its smooth jazz playlist. You were thankful Mark picked this place to have your little date in between classes, for the chill ambiance calmed down your irritated interior.

While you loved your creative writing class, and you absolutely adored your professor, you couldn’t help but be slightly pissed off at the writing prompt she randomly assigned you. You stared at it for what seemed like hours during class, no specific moment like described coming to your conscious. You were still thinking about it as you finally looked up at Mark’s shrunken frame, and the prompt was easily forgotten as worry took over your emotions.

“Babe? Are you okay?” At your concerned tone, Mark lifted his head to meet you eyes, before quickly looking back down at his coffee. He kept glancing between your eyes and his drink, while you patiently waited for him to explain what was bothering him.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, before looking back up at you one final time, and huffing out a soft sigh. “I know what you can write about.” He had barely even mumbled it, so neither of you were surprised when you asked him to repeat himself.

“I..know what you can write about.” The way Mark refused to look you in the eyes, and the tone of his voice, lead you to believe you knew what he was talking about, and you knew he didn’t want to say it.

You and Mark were an amazing couple.

You liked the same music, you both had the same sense of humor, and you were both equally loving towards each other and your friends. You were the two oldest people in your younger friend group, and two of the youngest in your older friend group. You both balanced it out quite well, and set an example for both groups as a healthy relationship while you did it.

But that’s not to say you were perfect.

It was a year ago, to be exact. You were both at the beginning of your sophomore year of college, and the priorities were starting to stack for both of you. Mark -being a music major- had to write a song and collab with the dance majors to make a dance for the song in about two months and turn it in as a beginning of the year exam. Meanwhile, you -being a film major- had to make a small movie using the theater kids as your actors; due in a month. To top on to all the stress, you had both recently moved in together, and had barely started unboxing before the projects got thrust at you.

You hadn’t noticed he was distancing himself from you, at first.

You were so distracted with your project, that every time he would blow off eating dinner together, or would stay at the school until well into the night, you didn’t complain much; just trying to finish your project and get a good grade. It wasn’t until a month later that you started to see that something was wrong. You had finished your project and had gotten amazing grades, and all you wanted to do was go out on a nice date with your boyfriend; something you hadn’t done in about a month. You texted him the time and place to meet you at, to dress nice, and that you’d be waiting with a surprise. You had seen the small “read 3:14pm” under the text, and while you were a bit puzzled as to why he didn’t respond, you didn’t worry about it too much - seeing as lately that was his thing - and just got ready for the night you hoped would be just as amazing as the day was.

You thought you looked pretty beautiful.

Your hair was nicely done, your nails were painted marks favorite color, and the black, tight dress with sleeves hanging off the side accentuated your body and breasts perfectly. You had even sent Haechan a picture to make sure it was “hot,” to which he replied that Mark’s a lucky man, which made you smile. You were looking fine tonight, and while you had had a reason to celebrate, you couldn’t wait to give Mark your all tonight.

{for more effect, I suggest playing It Happened Quiet by AURORA here}

You took your seat in the dimly lit restaurant that was definitely too expensive for a music and film major, and waited for your water that was requested to the waiter to arrive. With a quick glance at the time on your phone, you realized Mark wouldn’t be here for another ten minutes or so. So you just sat there, trying to distract yourself from the excessive amount of bread on your table, and watched the clock count down until 7:30, when Mark should be arriving.

7:40 rolled around and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the door like it just did you super dirty. While it was just 10 minutes late, Mark was never one to be late.

Okay, that’s a lie, but he was never late to these type of things. And you perfectly timed it so that he would have time to get home from school, change, and then get to the restaurant. You quickly shot Mark a “you on your way?” text, before setting down your phone, trying not to be the clingy girlfriend, and keep your hope that Mark would be there soon.

Yet, by the time the clock struck 9, and your bread was stale and you had drank enough water to definitely get a bladder infection if you didn’t pee soon, your hope was completely dead. You silently got up from your seat and gave a small smile and nod to the hostess - who shot a sympathetic smile to you - before pushing the door of the restaurant open and walking toward your car.

You tried not to cry on the way home, but when you walked through the front door to see a dark and cold apartment, indicating that Mark had not yet come home, you couldn’t help but let the tears fall at the thought of something happening to him. You had called and texted him multiple times, and when he answered none of them, you even called the hospital to see if they had seen a patient that fit Mark’s description, or had someone named Mark Lee come in. You called all the hospitals in your area, in fact, but nothing came up. Your last hope was someone you actually didn’t want to call. Not because you didn’t want to call her, but because you didn’t want what you’re thinking to be true. But when all of your friends said they hadn’t heard from him, you had almost no choice.

“Hello?” Her chipper voice on the other end made you want to cringe, but you held it together.

“If Mark is in the room, don’t say my name. It’s y/n. Is mark with you?”

Yerim honestly didn’t know what to say. She stuttered a bit on the other end, before clearing her throat and mumbling a, “yes”.

You sighed and gave a half hearted, “okay, don’t tell him I called or anything, okay? Can you just, like, pretend you never even talked to me? Thanks Yeri,” hanging up the phone before she could answer.

You didn’t know how you felt about Mark working on a school project with his ex. When you had met Mark, it was at a college party during freshman year, around a year or so ago, actually. He had just been through a terrible breakup with his high school sweetheart who was - you guessed it - Yeri. If you were being honest with yourself, you knew you were the rebound. You just, fell so hard for him in the short time you had known him that, it didn’t really matter. You guessed somewhere along the way, Mark actually did fall for you, because he stayed, and he said he loved you, and you moved in together. Because of this, and because of the fact that Yeri was never brought up, you didn’t feel too insecure about your relationship.

But now that you’re sitting on the couch in silence, thinking about the fact that your boyfriend ditched your date to hang out with his ex, you can’t help but feel a bit unconfident in where your standing was with Mark. You slowly started realizing that Mark had, in fact, been distancing himself the past month; choosing to instead spend time with his ex-girlfriend instead of the girl that he claimed he loved.

Jealously and insecurities bit away at your insides when you heard the door slowly being unlocked from the outside. Looking at your phone, you realized it was 11:32pm. You had called Yeri at 10:15, so you suppose she honored your request to not tell Mark you called.

Mark was surprised to see you sitting on the couch when he walked in. He had figured that you would have gone to bed already. It was quite late for a Friday for you, seeing as this was the day you usually went to bed early; tired from the week. He felt guilty looking at you, so he choose to train his eyes on anything besides your crumbled figure on the couch. Meanwhile, you stood up, trying to catch his gaze.

“Mark. Where were you tonight?” Your harsh infliction made Mark slightly flinch. He wanted to apologize, because he knows what he missed. And when he finally did look at you, he felt even more guilty, because you looked quite upset about the situation, and you also looked absolutely beautiful tonight. Your black dress fit your body and extenuated your curves perfectly. Your hair was done gorgeously, and he could tell you spent a long time on your makeup. Mark did want to apologize, but when you said,

“Do you even care about this relationship, I mean it seems like all you’ve done lately is ignore me-”

Mark had almost seen red. Every little thing bothering him lately just...boiled over. He wasn’t thinking before he spoke, which never worked for him; this time wasn’t so different.

“God, shut up! Just shut up! All you do is talk! This is why I prefer to spend my time with Yeri, because she’s not so extreme like you always are! You’re not even half the women Yeri is, and you’ll never be! Sometimes I wish I hadn’t picked you to be my rebound for her an-“ Mark stopped himself from talking by clamping his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

He hadn’t meant that.

He had not meant that.

He was just so upset by everything lately, and he spoke without thinking, like an absolute idiot.

But you didn’t know that. The tears streaming out of your eyes and the wobbling chin showed that for him. He reached out for you and took a step forward, only for you to take a step back, which basically broke Mark in half.

“Y/n I...” Nothing was said between you too, what was there to be said? To you, Mark had finally shown how he had really felt for the past month or so. You gave him one last look, before walking past him, putting on your heels - which were the fastest thing you could slip on - and quickly opening the door.

At the sound of the door, Mark snapped out of his daze, and rushed after you. “Y/n, no! Give me the keys, you can’t drive right now!”

Your tears had, in fact, gotten worse, but you said nothing to Mark as you picked up your pace to the parking lot of your apartments. Mark almost caught up with you, but you sped up even faster, which silently baffled him because you were wearing heals.

You finally got into the car and quickly got in to the drivers seat and locked the door just as mark arrived at the door. He was practically begging you not to go, and pleading to open the door. You just cried more and put your keys into the ignition, before backing out and driving out; Mark feeling like he was watching his whole life drive away from him.

{for more effect, I suggest playing Forgotten Love by AURORA here. You may have to play it multiple times.}

It had been three months since that incident. Three months since you and Mark talked. Three months of you being single. You, unfortunately, had a basic math class with Mark, and while you two used to sit in the corner together, you now both sat on opposite sides of the classroom. Or you in the front - him in the back. Wherever the first one in sat, the other sat on the opposite side.

Mark felt like he went through hell and back in those three months. He felt incredibly bad for what he said to you, and the fact that after that night, he didn’t try to get you back at all. The Monday after, you just sat on opposite ends, quietly agreeing that it was over. You had gotten all your stuff from the apartment, and luckily Haechan had a spare room you could live in.

Speaking of Haechan, your friend group was absolutely baffled when you both told them you had broken up. It had seemed like just a month before, you two were completely in love with each other; on the same page and everything. Then a month later; it’s over. They didn’t know who they should invite where, but you both reassured them (seperately. You both were just secretly on the same page still, without knowing it.) that you would be fine at the same social events.

You, of course, didn’t factor in that you would be watching your ex-boyfriend bring girls up to random rooms in his friends frat during parties. And that at bonfires, you would see him kissing random girls cheeks from across the fire. Or that, when you all had a group study date, he would bring a girl that none of you knew. You didn’t factor in that your ex-boyfriend would actively go out of his way to hurt you.

Truthfully, Mark didn’t do it to hurt you. He did it because if he didn’t hook up with girls at frat parties, he would drink too much and end up trying to kiss you. And if he didn’t flirt with girls at bonfires, he would spend the whole time staring at your from across the fire. And if he didn’t bring a girl to the study dates, he would break his pencils in anger when jaemin would wrap his arm around you in affection. But, at every event, no matter who he was with, Mark always failed.

He couldn’t stop stealing glances at you from across the fire while you laughed at something Nayeon - Johnny’s girlfriend - said to you. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking his pencils under the table when jaemin played with the tips of your hair. And he always ended up leaving the girls before anything happened at frat parties because he couldn’t stop wishing it was you.

It was actually at a frat party that Mark had gotten you back.

You were trying to have a good time. You didn’t come to the frat parties much, because the pain of seeing Mark lead a girl upstairs hurt you so much, you felt like your chest was on fire. But Haechan had all but begged you show up to this one, and you would have never declined anyway; It was Taeil’s birthday, after all.

You were dancing with Dahyun and Chaeyoung when you felt two hands grip your waist. You expected it to be one of the guys, so you turned with a smile on your face, only to come face to face with a man you had never met. The smile on your face dropped, and you took a step back from his grip.

He gave you a sick smile, and moved forward, back into your space.

“Hey, pretty girl. Wanna dance?”

“No.” You exclaimed disgustingly, before trying to move away from the unknown man. However, that proved difficult as his grip on your wrist was quite violent, and strong. You winced, and kept tugging on your hand, to no avail.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to dance with you.” You kept pushing your arm back, but he just tugged you closer to his chest. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and felt sick to your stomach at what was about to happen. At the thought, you started wiggling out of his grip at a faster speed.

“Bitch, stop moving-“

“Call her a bitch one more fucking time, asshole.” You opened your eyes to see a small group has formed around you, your mystery creeper, and..Mark?!

“Get lost, man. This ones mine.”

Mark was seeing red again.

“She’s...not ....PROPERTY!” and with that final statement, Mark swung his fist and you ducked just in time for the weirdo to be struck in the face and loosen his grip on you completely. You pushed yourself forward, and ran behind Mark, to the open arms of your friends, who - as you understand - ran to get mark the minute they saw you struggling.

Mark fought this dude almost twice his size for a minute, and he was about to be taken out, before he locked eyes with you, and the power surged through him. One final punch to the unknown asshole, and he was on floor. Everyone cheered, and some people were already picking up his body, chanting “POOL! POOL! POOL!” But the noise faded out as Mark strides up to you, takes your hand, and drags you upstairs. He pushes you both into a bathroom, where you suddenly take charge as you force him down on the seat, and look through the cabinet for a first aid kit.

You and Mark say nothing as you rub his cut with alcohol. At the sudden sting, Mark hisses and places his hands on your hips, gripping them harshly to push himself through the burn. You can’t help but let your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the love of your life’s hands on you again. You felt like you had lived a thousand years without water, and were suddenly given a water bottle.

You didn’t realize how long you stood there, relishing in the feeling of Marks hands on you. Mark had opened his eyes, to see you with your eyes closed and you hands clasped together in front of your chest - the cotton ball resting in your hands. Mark pulled you closer to him with a whimper, and when you opened your eyes back, you saw that you were significantly closer to Mark, and that he had tears threatening to fall.

With a cough, you looked back at the first aid kit and pushed yourself out of Mark’s strong grip. Another couple of minutes went by in silence, before Mark finally let out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Your movements halted, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look down at the sad boys eyes.

“I spoke before thinking. I didn’t really mean the things I said, I was just stressed out from school, a-and, fuck I don’t know, y/n. I just..”

Mark was crying now, and he leaned down and placed his hands in his hands. You stepped back in surprise with wide eyes. “I just want you back. I want my girlfriend back. I want to love you again and spend a decade and then some apologizing for what I said. I’m such a fucking idiot I know I don’t deser-“

You shut him up by pushing his shoulders back up, sitting on his lap with your legs on either side of him (terribly hard to do on a toilet, but you’re a master), and kissing him like a woman starved. Mark quickly falls into your lips, and brings his hands up and under your butt, effectively scooping you up a bit.

You don’t know how long you and Mark sat there kissing, but when Yuta walked into the bathroom to pee and had to see two twenty year olds kissing, he never let you live it down.

You smile fondly at the memory, before looking back up at your lover, awkwardly sitting across from you. Before you know it, you’re leaning forward and taking his hand in yours.

“I’m not going to write about that. That was a personal thing between us, and I honestly don’t want to relive that moment longer than I have already. I’m going to write about the time my cousin stole my DS.” You laughed, and Mark visibly relaxed at hearing you weren’t going to write about it. While he had suggested it, that was because he wanted you to feel like you could talk about it if you wanted, but the truth is he hated reliving those three months too. He remembers what terrible state he was in without you, and he doesn’t like to think about it.

You knew he was dwelling on it, so you stood up slightly from the table and leaned down to kiss Mark - who saw what you were doing and met you half way. You both gave each other a few more pecks before you whispered, “I forgive you, always and forever. And I love you.”

[mc-amps]

The Wacky Adventures of Seven McDonald

Here it is~ My fic for @mysmehalloweenzine They’re having their leftovers sale rn, so be sure to check it out if you missed your chance to preorder. https://mysmehalloweenzine.storenvy.com/ It’s totally worth the purchase ;)

My fic was also illustrated by the amazing @nanashiart​ I’m seriously blessed that she agreed to collab. Her illustrations really did bring my fic to life <3

Pairing: 707xMC

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: Spoops and elixir +_+

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Seven’s heart jumped at her whisper. He talked to her on the phone many times before, and yet, without the static filtering her voice, everything was different. The CCTV’s low quality, grainy veil was lifted, and there she was: flesh, blood, and soft warmth walking beside him through the dark and decrepit hallway.

“What do you mean? It’s a haunted house! It’s made to walk in and explore.” So why was Seven’s heart beating so fast? It wasn’t the rotting wood and peeling wallpaper along with the bevy of spider webs dangling above that put him on edge. It wasn’t the dust dancing in the ghoulish glow cast from several lanterns or the gloomy symphony of cicadas and crickets seeping in through the broken windows either. Not even the way the house groaned in agony with every footstep was the culprit.

It started when he picked her up from the apartment. For obvious reasons, he had been nominated to escort the lovely party coordinator to the RFA’s night of Halloween fun and spooks. Spooks indeed. From the moment she answered the door, his stomach twisted itself in knots.

Was his brain malfunctioning?

“Or is there haunted house etiquette I’m not aware of?” He put his hands on his hips in a dramatic stance.

“Don’t you think it’s weird there was no one to let us in? You walked in on your own.” She huffed and folded her arms with a pout. The gesture was arguably unbefitting of her princess costume, yet the frilly dress and tiara was perfect for the lovable Princess of the RFA.

Seven shrugged. “Didn’t Jumin pick out this place? He probably wanted something authentic and spoopy. OooOOOOooo~” He wiggled his yellow, gloved fingers to emphasize the spoop factor.

“. . .we could’ve waited for the others.“ Her lips twitched as she muffled a chuckle.  

“What?” Seven asked with a suspicious grin.  

“You! I can’t take you seriously when you’re dressed like that!” She burst into a fit of giggles. “Why Ronald McDonald of all things?”

Seven guffawed. Her laughter was too contagious. “Cause I wanted to see everyone’s reaction! You think anyone’s scared of clowns? My bet is Zen~” He adjusted his curly, red wig and tugged at his bright, yellow jumpsuit.

“Zen!?” She wheezed.

“Yep. He hates cats, so why not clowns too~?” Seven bared his teeth. “Grrrr~ Fast food clown!” The white paint on his face, red lips and nose, minus the glasses made him look completely different. The RFA wouldn’t know what hit them. “Oh! Oh! Let’s hide and scare ‘em!”

“Alright. I’ll bet you five candies Zen won’t get scared.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

Holding back laughter, they decided to hide in a bedroom. A musty, revolting odor permeated the air. Dusty debris littered the floor and bed, along with fake blood spattered everywhere, most notably on the tattered curtains.

But there was something nostalgic. . .

Seven shook those thoughts away as the two huddled near a dust coated table. A picture frame sat on top of the grime. It held a photo of a woman. Her lips were curved into a coy smile and her eyes glittered. The part that stood out the most was her long, wavy hair. Oddly, she looked similar to the princess next to him.

He was about to point that out, but stopped short when he realized how close she stood, practically pressing against him. He shifted awkwardly, but then flinched and threw his arms around the princess when something slammed, causing her to shriek.

“Whoa! A-are you okay?” His face heated when he realized she clung to him for dear life.

“Was that the door?” She gasped and let go. “Do you think that’s them?”

“Maybe,” Seven whispered, reluctantly scooting back. “Let’s wait and see.”

And wait they did.

And wait.

And wait.

But nothing happened. “Are they even here?” She murmured.

Seven was starting to wonder why everything was so quiet. Yoosung should have been screaming, while Jaehee would have been constantly checking on Zen.

“Do you want to text them?” He asked.

“Well, my phone’s been acting up, so I don’t know if there’s something wrong with it, and since someone forgot their hoodie.” She cutely huffed. “We can’t use his phone!”

“Hey. . .!” Seven tried to keep his voice down. “This is the first time I’ve been without my lucky hoodie in. . .in. . years!” He put a hand to his heart and let out an agonized sigh. He kept everything in those oversized pockets. “You should still try texting.”

“I guess.” She grabbed her phone, but froze at the sound of a deep groan.

“Why have you returnnnnned?” The lights waned and flickered with every rasping syllable.

The spooks were starting? Seven’s face lit up. Was there a hidden sound system projecting the voice?

A girlish yelp snapped him from his thoughts. “Did you grab me!?”

“Wha-? No!” Seven lifted his hands as proof.

“You’re kidding. . .” Her face paled. “S-something grabbed me! Ugh!” She shimmied past him and stormed out of the room. “I’m done with this stupid creepy house! I’m waiting for the others!” Her voice echoed along with her stomping footsteps.

“Wait!” Seven followed after, scrambling not to trip over his giant red shoes.

She rushed to the front door and yanked the handles, but it wouldn’t open. “I-it’s stuck!”

“Let me.” Seven tried, causing them to shake and rattle, but the door still wouldn’t budge. With a frustrated grunt, he kicked the wood, but still nothing. Chills ran down his spine. This wasn’t right at all.

“I-I’m calling Jumin.” She shakily tapped her phone, and Seven moved closer to hear. The monotone call tone accompanied by her frantic breathing made for a nauseating combination. Seven held his breath, until a click sounded.

“Yes, this is Jumin Han speaking.”

Never in his life had he been happier to hear that deep, robotic voice.

“J-Jumin!” She gasped, voice wavering. “ Where are you guys?”

“I could ask the same question. We just finished purchasing everyone’s admission.”

“What are you talking about!? There were no tickets or anything and now we’re stuck in here!” She replied almost hysterically.

There was a pause and static. “I don’t quite understand. Security would not have let you two in without tickets. You and Luciel are-?”

“Trapped in this crazy house!” Between her frantic words, a static white noise grew louder, overpowering Jumin’s voice.

“Where- ou- ry-“

“Jumin? Are you still there? Jumin!” She nearly sobbed.

The static-filled garble morphed into a cackle. “Sorry, Princess, but the RFA won’t be able to help you this time~” A new voice interrupted with a menacing snicker.

Seven snatched up the phone. “Hey! Who the heck are you, and how do you know about the RFA?”

“Turn around and maybe you’ll find out~” He said before hanging up.

Dread filled Seven as he looked back. A figure stepped out of the shadows, slender and clad in black. His bleached hair glowed in the moonlight like a halo, yet his green eyes were wide and demonic. A mask covered his nose and mouth, but the folds revealed a manic smile underneath. Perhaps the most striking part was the chainsaw he held. With a high pitched cackle, he revved it up.

“If you want all of your limbs intact, you’d both better come with me. Without fighting.”

They had to surrender. The man shut off the chainsaw, but carried it as he led them into a empty room with a couple chairs and a bookshelf on the far wall. He ordered them to sit.

“Did you like my surprise?” Edgy chainsaw man grabbed some rope. “You should have seen your faces~” He cooed, before cracking up. “It was great!” He started with the princess, tying her torso to the chair. “You probably had no idea I hacked your GPS, right?” He moved on to her hands, holding her wrists together before tying them. “I was hoping to get you alone, but no matter.” His hands moved with gentle and skillful care, but Seven hated the way they lingered on her waist and brushed against her skin. The man soon finished and his eyes narrowed into something dangerous as he approached Seven.

“I won’t let you stop me from taking her to Paradise, clown boy.”

Seven held his knuckles together as the rope tightened around him in hopes of being able to get loose later. Anything to make up for his failure in protecting the princess.

“You’re the one who talked in that spooky voice and locked the door?” She snapped, legs shaking.

“Huh?” Their edgy captor tilted his head to the side. “Spooky voice?”

“Yeah,” Seven said. “You were like ooooOOOoo. . .Why did you returnnn or something like thaaaaat. . .”

The man raised an eyebrow before scowling. “You’re both trying to distract me. I’m not stupid, so stop belittling me!” he hissed before digging in his pocket. In an instant, his anger switched to unhinged glee when he pulled out a piece of candy wrapped in black foil. “Trick or treat, Princess~” He unwrapped it, revealing dark chocolate coated with teal frosting. “Now be a good girl and say ‘ahh~’” He cooed, however his eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned closer and pinched the chocolate between his long fingers.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head away. The man didn’t give up and pushed the chocolate against her mouth. “Nnf!” She whimpered as her lips formed a thin line.

“Hmm…” The edgy man cocked his head. “Don’t be scared. Once you eat this, you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

Seven’s stomach churned.

“Here. We can share~” The man pulled down his mask, revealing a wide smirk. With a snicker, he popped the chocolate in his mouth, holding it between his teeth. He then set a hand on the chair’s arms and the other grabbed her face.

“Hey!” Seven’s blood boiled. “Don’t touch her!”

A muffled snicker escaped the edgy man as he dug his fingers into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. The corners of his lips twitched into a victorious smirk, and his eyes shut as he leaned in, bringing the chocolate to her mouth.

Nononono! With a panicked grunt, Seven wiggled and jerked, ignoring the burn of the rough braids.

“S-seh-ehn-!” she cried as the gap between her mouth and the chocolate shrank.

Seven’s struggled more as the rope loosened. A smoke bomb could distract the man, then Seven’s knife would cut the remaining ropes. His wrist ripped free! Fueled by adrenaline, he dug into his pocket and flung out-

Candy.

Just like his phone, all of his other trinkets were in his hoodie pockets.

The colorful array of sweets bounced off man’s tattooed shoulder, causing him to pause.. His eyes widened with awe, and the teal chocolate fell from his mouth just as everything went black.

“You dare taunt me with these two mennnnn?” That same voice from before wailed as a blue fireball appeared, casting a ghostly glow.

The princess screamed when her chair tipped backwards and scraped across the floor.

“No!” Seven clawed at the remaining ropes, but to avail. He was useless.

The chair slammed backwards into the bookcase and her legs flailed upwards. “H-h-help mee-ee-eee!” Her shriek came out bumpy as the bookshelf spun, pushing her to the other side with a loud slam.

“Give her back! ” Edgy chainsaw man chased after her, but crashed into the bookcase. “She’s mine!” He pounded and kicked at the wood, causing several books to fall.

The fireball vanished, leaving them shrouded in inky darkness. Seven squinted as his eyes adjusted to the blackness. The edgy man fell to his knees, fingers gripping his hair. Shallow, frantic breaths filled the air.

“Are you. . .afraid of the dark?” Seven whispered.

“No!” The man snapped. Stray strands of moonlight illuminated his pale face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. . .Sav. . .ior. . .” He babbled to himself.

“H-hey.” Seven cleared his throat. “Uh. If you untie me, then we can save her together.”

The man pulled his mask back on before narrowing his eyes. “And why shouldn’t I kill you, clown boy?”

“B-because,” Seven blurted the first thing that came to mind. “You can have all my candy. They’re all limited edition and rare. Don’t ask where I got them!” He was rambling, but needed to survive. For her sake.

The man eyed the candies on the floor. “. . .Fine.”

Chainsaw man cut Seven’s ropes and the two inspected the bookshelf. It was clearly a trapdoor they couldn’t activate. Did it only work with ghosts? “What about your chainsaw?” Seven asked.

“Good thinking, clown boy!” The man’s eyes glowed with violent glee, and with a cheerful snicker, he grabbed his chainsaw and shoved Seven out of the way before revving it. His laughter erupted into manic cackles as he cut into the wood. A cloud of sawdust filled the air while a hole formed and grew. “You messed with the wrong people, ghost!” He kicked  down the rest of the wood, revealing a large room with a fireplace. There the captured princess sat, still tied to the chair, but safe.

A frustrated growl came from a willowy shadow bathed in a blue glow. The ghost. “It wasn’t enough for you to leave me for dead, but now you taunt me with these mennn?” He pointed a bony finger at Seven and the chainsaw man. “Perhaps once you suffer and die like I did, I’ll able to move on to the after lifffffe.” A humorless chuckled rumbled as he snapped his fingers. The fireplace erupted to life with an inferno of blue fire.

She gasped and flailed against the ropes when her chair scooted backwards. “No! Please!” Her scream was almost as high pitched as the scape of the chair against the wood.

“No!” Seven barreled past chainsaw man and tackled  the chair away from the blazing fires. Pain shot up his knee upon landing, but he didn’t care. “Are you okay!?”

Her chest heaved and her face glistened with sweat, but she smiled and nodded.

Seven’s insides tingled with a fuzzy warmth. “It’s okay now,” he whispered. “You’re safe.” He brushed away a strand of hair from her face, but the buzz of the chainsaw interrupted him. With a wild cackle, chainsaw man swung at the ghost, but  stumbled and cursed when the weapon went through the ethereal being.

“I’ve had enough of thisss!” Smoke oozed from the ghost. “If these men will interfere, then so be it!” Several floating fireballs appeared throughout the room, causing the temperature to spike and the air to distort with heat. “I’ll burn down this entire place, taking all of you with me!”

“Please don’t!” Her eyes filled with tears. “This isn’t the answer! But. . . if you want, hurt me instead, not Seven and this other guy. They did nothing wrong!”

Seven’s lungs constricted. Why was she sacrificing herself? She was so kind hearted. Not someone who would abandon anyone.

Not someone like him.

“You’ve got the wrong person!” He shouted. “Your lover left you? That wasn’t her. She’d never do that! From the moment I first met her, she’s been nothing but sweet and caring. She listens to our problems and puts up with a lot of crap like chatrooms at three in the morning! I know without a doubt she’d never abandon or betray anyone!”

Her eyes grew watery as her expression softened. “Please believe me, I’m not who you think I am, but. . .I’m so sorry that happened. No one deserves to go through the pain you did. I-I wish I could help you. . .!” Her voice cracked and her lips quivered.

There was a pause and Seven was sure they were all going to die, but then the flames dwindled one by one. “I see,” the ghost’s voice softened. “Revenge may not be the answer. It’s strange.” He lifted a hand to his chest. “I feel. . .warm? Is this what moving on feels like? I wish I had met someone like you instead of that woman. Perhaps my life would have been much longer and happier.”

Seven’s heart flip flopped.

“Thank. . .you. . .” The ghost faded, leaving the three of them in the dark silence

Not wasting another moment, Seven untied her, before helping her stand. His cheeks burst into flame when she hugged him tightly.

“Thank you so much for saving me!”

Seven returned the embrace. Why was it so hot in here? Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and he squeezed her tighter. “I-I don’t know what I would have done if something happened.”

“Seven,” she whispered as she pulled back.

He got lost in her eyes as their magnetic force tugged him closer. What was this feeling? Was this…? His lips parted and he closed his eyes.

Wailing sirens broke the spell.

Edgy chainsaw man cursed under his breath and shoved his hands into his candy filled pockets. “This is my cue to leave,” he stomped towards the nearest window. However, before he climbed out, he turned and burst into hysterical laughter. “I’ll come back and visit you soon, Princess~”

Seven joined in on the laughter. This edgy dude had a hilarious laugh. “Hey! I hope you visit me too! I’ll have more candy for you- Oh! And Honey Buddha Chips. You’ve gotta try those!”

The man jolted, then shrugged. “I guess you’d make a good Believer too, Clown Boy.” With that, he jumped out of the window as blue and red flashing lights filled the dark room.

“Guess, the cavalry came,” Seven chuckled.

She grinned and nodded. “The real question is if Jumin was the one who sent them. Wanna change our bet to that?”

“No way! I still wanna scare Zen-gwuh!” Seven sputtered in shock when she took his hand and tugged him towards the door with a sweet giggle. His pulse pounded in his ears louder than the sirens and for a split second, he thought he might faint.

“Happy Halloween, Seven~”

A/N: This was really fun to write. Honestly, it had been a lot longer, but I had to cut out several thousand words in order to fit the zine's wordcount;;; Still, I think tightening it was for the better. I also couldn't resist adding Unknown. From the moment I applied to the zine, i knew I wanted to write something with Unknown and a haunted house +_+ The elixir chocolate scene was sjfkdsjfkdsfj yum +_+

Anyways, am I the only one that remembers those old Ronald McDonald cartoons? The 90's ones? That's where I got the title from. Does anyone remember the haunted house episode? Good times lol (Seriously. Let me know if you remember it, because nobody in the zine server did sjflksfjdsjfds)

[rndyounghowze]

Psophonia and Aura Waggle Danced in Colony at the Cincy Fringe

A wonderful symbiotic relationship between two masterful companies committed to saving our relationship with a certain bumble-y creature.

By Ricky and Dana Young-Howze

Cincinnati Fringe

Colony, the epic collab between Psophonia Dance Company and Aura Contemporary Ensemble was one of the Fringe shows that we heard touted the hardest during News segments and live events on the Fringe. I don't know if Dana and I were ready for it. We were walking into this thinking “this will be like four people dancing in bee costumes” and what we got was “epic stage performance that can't be contained by any screen”. We feel everyone watching the show on the screen was robbed of an experience that was twenty times more awesome than the already very powerful performance we saw. We can't wait until this show gets to do the tour it intended. Now with that in mind let's get started!

First off this show did a lot of things Dana and I are totally down for. We absolutely love dance and mixed media and music and we were totally down for this! Very rarely and I mean VERY rarely have we ever seen shows that integrate their music as fully as Colony does. You have moving musicians in every frame that become part of the dance (Dana has now coined the term Dancer-muso for it and that's all I'm going to call from now on). You actually did something that I thought was impossible and made a chamber ensemble something even more beautiful to look at.

You don't know this about your friendly neighborhood Ricky but he's in love with chamber ensembles. I'm in love with chamber composers that no one has ever heard of and am very vocal about the fact that we don't have a professional ensemble in residence near us. So keep this in mind when I tell you that Aura under direction of Rob Smith deserves to be the crown Jewel of the University of Houston! They stayed in the pocket of the beat at all times and were able to endow so much meaning in every note while moving around! I'm especially here for the saxophones which really put their steps in that day.

And we were completely there for Psophonia’s dancing! I swear they could dance to Grand Central Station bus announcements and make it a piece of art. Their extensions were on point and their choreography was clean. You could just eat up the beautiful stage pictures that they filled with bodies and movement but they also gave us stillness and knew when not to go big. You could tell that Sophia Torres knows how sculptural and also how visually musical dance can be. My favorite thing about dance is that for the best ones you can turn the sound off and still get a great performance. Because of this I know that this company is a force to be reckoned with the minute they can hit the Fringe circuit in person again.

And now when you put expert musicianship and seasoned dance performers together you get that match made in heaven (or Houston turns out) that you dream about. Dana and I love shows that tear down the distinction between performers and orchestra. When you see a lot of high school musical pit bands you get tired of the traditional set up. So to see this epic artistic romance onstage is amazing! I've never seen two companies so suited for each other! And I've never left one performance fantasizing about what they're going to do next.

One tiny thing that we're sure they didn't intend to be off-putting for us was the words on the screen. They weren't there long enough for us to read so our watching experience was hurt a little bit by us always struggling to finish what was being said before it was lost. Almost halfway through I told Dana to stop trying to read them. I'm sure that's not a problem when you see this live but in person I think it would have created a different problem with me and Dana. We have a personal little pet peeve about shows telling us what we're watching. And we feel the creators didn't trust us to know what bees are. Of course you're trying to educate about Colony Collapse Disorder and affect great change for the environment so we get why they're there. I guess what I'm saying is that Dana and I would not miss the projections or video one bit if we paid money to see a future live performance and instead was given a link to read all that information later.

And now it's your turn to watch! Go to the Fringe's website and see this artistic romance for yourself. You’ll find the tickets here. Show up for the Cincy Fringe's live talkback on their Facebook and then tell us how much you loved it on our social media!

[existentialkendall-blog]

Nostalgia Is a Drug 

Pairing: Kickthestickz Wordcount: 1.4k Rating: G. A lil bit of angst.

Summary: The Fictional Aftermath of ‘’Type number 1 into the chat if you want me and PJ to have some kind of sexy collab’’

A/N: Feedback is hugely appreciated. I know whether or not to write another fic, or whether I have typo-ed. THANKS and enjoy :) 

Crabstickz. Internet sensation, comedic genius, King of impressions. Chris Kendall drops off the grid again after promising a spectacular return.

Several phrases stand out in the online article.

Unreliable creator, disappointed fans, dying fandom, fantastic foursome. Chris closes the laptop and falls back onto the bed, staring up at the sloped attic ceiling. His phone vibrates in his front pocket and he pulls it out reluctantly, blinking for several seconds at the black and white screen before the message registers.

Stay over Friday

Chris ignores his initial response which involves sexual innuendo and the word ‘coming��. He mentally checks his schedule for this weekend. What a surprise, nothing planned.

You were serious about the collab?

PJ replies almost instantly.

Dead serious. Deadly like a venom snake Or not, we could just hang if you want, watch a couple movies

They haven’t ‘just hung out’ in forever. Even during filming Oscar’s Hotel they’d been under tight time restrictions and always surrounded by other people, never ‘just them’.

I’m not watching the good, bad and ugly again

It’s a CLASSIC

Westerns are not classics. They make my act-y senses tingle in a bad way

You loved it!

He loved the company. 2011 in PJ’s Uni room, buried under the duvet with his monstrous weighty book of film on their laps. PJ picking out the film immediately, eyes wide, convincing Chris that it’s not an average western film, it’s full of awesome one liners and cool characters. Chris giving in because the smile PJ gave him, curved wide and full of light, was worth suffering through a 3 hour film to see. When PJ quoted lines along with the actors Chris saw how much it meant to him. It was his 'The Matrix’.

You’d have it played at your funeral if you could

You’re so morbid

It’d be after the drawing planets masterclass and before cardboard for beginners

I’ll get it written into my will So, Friday?

Of course

One conversation has him smiling into his laptop, window open for train times from Harrogate to Brighton. He books the ticket and feels the first twist of anxiety in his gut.

Friday arrives slower then he thought it would. Anticipation and nerves had swallowed every waking moment. Despite looking forward to it, the implications of seeing PJ confused him. They haven’t collaborated officially for 2 years. They haven’t talked properly for 3.

The train pulls into the station late in the afternoon. His six hour journey seemed more like ten. Unlike all other times, PJ is waiting outside leaning against the metal railings, orange rimmed sunglasses on.

Chris can’t help but grin at his old friend.

Midnight. Every important conversation they have is at midnight, and then it turns into impressions and laughter and dreams about the future. Chris pushes his boot into the heap of pebbles that cover all beaches in Brighton and stares at the moon.

“It’s not where I thought I’d be by now,” the alcohol burns his throat going down and he hands the bottle of vodka to PJ. He takes it reluctantly, finger brushing Chris’ hand accidentally as he does.

“I know that. I think the whole internet knows that.”

“Yeah,” Chris laughs humourlessly, “Because the only videos I make now involve me complaining.”

PJ falls silent. He looks out at the endless undulating waves, thinks of the different frames and shots he could get with this view. He wishes he could find the right thing to say as easily.

“This isn’t what you had in mind when you invited me down is it,” Chris asks, rhetorical.

He answers anyway, “I wanted to see if you were okay-” Chris is laughing again before he finishes his sentence. He hates that question, that sentence. Are you okay? I want you to be okay. For once, if he answered 'I’m not okay’ would the world implode or would it shut the voices up for good?

“Fucks sake. Fine. I wanted to see you Chris. Spend time with you,” After meeting at the station PJ had taken him to a pizza place for dinner. They’d made small talk about movies and upcoming projects. For PJ there was stress and work on the horizon. For Chris there was unemployment and fake bravado.

From there they’d entered a corner shop and picked out a bottle, Chris explaining it with 'to talk’. Liquid courage: liquid honesty. PJ had led the way to a section of the beach that was out of the view of the brightly coloured tourist beach huts, and more towards the wind breakers.

“How sweet,” Chris mutters, digging one hand into the small stones and raising it in a handful, before dropping them to their original place.

“Yeah well,” PJ takes a long gulp and they sit in silence. He didn’t have any premonitions of what this weekend would be. Even though they’ve moved forward with different jobs and experiences, his mind still drifts to the simplicity of their earlier relationship.

“Maybe I wanted to be Jim Carrey so much that I became him.”

“You don’t have depression.”

All comedians have depression. Chris had told him that one after their 8 hour flight from L.A to London. Wrapped in a thick curtain of lethargy and jet lag, PJ had asked him to explain his theory. Using muted gestures and a range of slurred words, he’d said that comedians become comedians because they’re depressed, and they want to make people laugh so other people don’t feel as miserable as they do. Examples included Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, Stephen Fry. 'Does Stephen Fry count as a comedian?’ 'Blackadder’ 'Shit yeah’

“What you have are friends that you can talk to about this stuff.”

Chris sounds pained when he says “You know I can’t do that Peej.”

“You’re doing pretty well so far,” Even if the whole internet is concerned that he’s suicidal. Even if PJ has seen the worried tweets and the demands for an explanation.

“Does Sophie know I’m here?” Chris asks, hesitantly. Because since they met at the station he hasn’t seen her at all. Or anyone, actually.

PJ stops himself from sighing. For all the times they’ve danced around the topic, they’ve never been direct with it. But tonight seems different, like along with the alcohol, his misery might force the words out of him.

“Chris…”

“No wait. I’m not a threat, right?” Chris bites the bottom of his lip, tasting alcohol, and leaving a groove in place. He hates feeling insecure, and in front of PJ it’s somehow worse. He knows his tells, his lies, his stupid coping mechanisms. He can see right through him.

“She knows you’re here. Don’t bring her into this.”

“This,” Chris laughs bitterly, “I miss it,” He lets the nostalgic misery and wonderment that he felt since they walked to the beach enter his voice. He misses having someone there to put up with his bullshit, who saw through his act and still stuck around. He misses PJ and what they both had before it faded away.

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Now he isn’t talking about YouTube or his stunted career, he’s talking about them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever move on. What they had wasn’t concrete, they weren’t an exclusive item. Perhaps to PJ they weren’t anything, just dumb kids messing around with a camera and their bodies. 

Trading kisses like they were nothing, and tweeting silly jokes like they weren’t personal. 

But when he breathes out a repeated, punctuated “I know,” He knows it wasn’t as black and white for PJ. But that’s what it is now.

“You don’t hate me?” For the stupid things I say, for not talking to you, for still making fun of us to my audience because I don’t know how else to process what we were.

“I could never hate you,” 'Not with everything that we used to have’ is how Chris hears it.

They go back to looking at the moon, the ethereal glow lighting their silhouettes.

Chris remembers their first kiss, over eight years ago. PJ had been so nervous, winding his fingers in the sleeve of his hoodie, restlessly messing with his hair. Chris thought of all the nameless men in countless gay bars in Leeds preparing him for this moment. Once they did it, they couldn’t go back because PJ wasn’t a nameless man, he was important. Chris had twined their hands together, stilling PJ’s fidgeting movements.

He’d initiated it, tilted his head to the left and closed his eyes.

When they finally kissed, PJ’s lips were soft.

He leaves the next day with a hangover and a script. While his future is uncertain those memories will always be there. Solid and real. Painful and incomplete.

[killitwithbleach-blog]

Goodbye to a World

I’m standing on the most sacred ground in American music history. In 2015 Bethel Woods, the site of the first Woodstock Fest, has been transformed into Mysteryland, a multisensory cultural experience for a new generation of starry-eyed electro lovers.  Between two hundred-foot-high rainbow-painted horse heads Porter Robinson is concentrating on the instruments before him where DJ decks had been stationed all weekend. My face is drenched in the effervescent glow of the stage lights and suddenly I’m thinking, “Fuck, it’s happening again.” My nose tingles as I recognize the delicate melody that gradually swells into a triumphant wall of sound. The bastard has me tearing up for the second time this set. When the towering euphony reduces to four crooned lines, I’m crying.

                       We’ll see creation come undone

                       These bones that bound us will be gone

                       We’ll stir our spirits ‘til we’re one

                       Then soft as shadows we’ll become

The lyrics don’t conjure any particular memory or evoke any particular emotion, but rather elicit the response of experiencing vivid beauty. “Sea of Voices” was Porter Robinson’s homecoming announcement, telling the world that the year-long hiatus, his recession to his parents’ home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, was over. (Robinson, 2014)

Porter Robinson’s ascension to EDM superstardom was more a series of snatched opportunities than a pursuit. A 12-year-old recluse fascinated by role-playing and rhythm video games, he began trying to re-create his favorite 8-bit tunes on a pirated copy of Sony’s ACID software. By posting his unripe productions on Internet forums he found a mentor in vet producer Kyrandian, who pushed Porter until out popped a Beatport number one. “Say My Name” was a bona fide electro house banger, and at 16, Porter was instantaneously inundated with requests to DJ parties around the country. DJ culture was totally foreign to the small-city Carolina boy and clubs were uncharted territory until he started performing in them.  One year later he wrangled Ultra Music Fest, South by Southwest, and three Electric Daisy Carnivals on his first headlining EP tour. One year after that, he charted Billboard. (in Fusilli, 2012)

Oblivious to the dominating Dutch house sound of the first wave of the EDM takeover, Porter’s 2010 to 2011 singles were influenced by the music that raised him: chiptune, trance, IDM (intelligent dance music) and Japanese electro hyperpop from the interactive video game Dance Dance Revolution. The result was a moderately eclectic soundboard within the typical 128-BPM four-on-the-floor electro house format, which he coined “complextro.” It was a style defined by its lack of definition and an emphasis on detail, which Porter thought characterized the work of some of his biggest inspirations, Wolfgang Gartner, DirtyLoud, and Skrillex. Porter prematurely enlisted himself as another purveyor of complextro while these early singles—though inspired by several genres—still fit snugly into the electro house casing. (in Fusilli, 2012) That is, until he wrote “Language.” With its trance breakdowns, glitched-out buildups, and an ambient vocal interlude between progressive house drops, it defied the structural and tonal conventions of electro house. Finally, Porter had fulfilled his own prophecy. He was a complextro artist. The summer of 2012 it was impossible to avoid “Language” at any major festival. If you knew at this point what the letters E-D-M stood for, you knew Porter Robinson’s name.

It’s the all-American name of the fresh new face of the American dream, although as far as faces go, our 19-year-old protagonist hasn’t quite grown into his yet. Porter sits opposite his Billboard interviewer at Coachella, a tan, tattooed human stamp of the word “bro.” In the same frame, Porter’s skin appears blanched and his shoulders permanently hunched over from years of living behind the blue light of a computer screen. His upper lip is shadowed by sweat and baby hairs. As Porter recites responses about his age and influences, he absentmindedly slackens his mic hand so the audio feed fades in and out. Once Billboard Bro has filled his question quota, he flashes a farewell smile at the camera. Porter is sheepishly thanking the camera he thinks has been filming him this whole time, and you have to wonder if socializing is something he ever enjoys. (Brooks, 2012)

In between “Say My Name” and “Language” Porter Robinson made a crucial decision.  With Gesaffelstein and Brodinski added to his roster of idols in 2011, he flirted with the idea of making a sharp left turn into tech house, a hybrid of mechanical techno percussion and groove-infused house. (Brooks, 2012)(in easylove Records, 2010) After all, his proclaimed main objective at the time was to “maximize energy and write a song that was perfect for the dance floor,” an idea he traversed in the 2011 Spitfire EP with two dubstep tracks and the crassly aggressive moombahton number “100% In the Bitch.” (in Fusilli, 2012) But something was missing. The constraints of music that functions solely to energize the body left him yearning for a sound that would satisfy the soul. Goodbye tech house, hello emotional introspection. The uplifting and anthemic “Language,” his first true complextro track, was also his first artistic expression of sincerity. Its chart-topping success was all Porter needed to start a new chapter of his career: the decision for beauty.

“Easy” was the confirmation that the Porter we knew, booty-shake-maker big-beat-banger Porter, was never coming back. A collab with fellow touring producer Mat Zo, “Easy” one-upped “Language” in emotionally uplifting power. By connecting with his fans on a deeper, more personal level, it seemed Porter had unearthed his true identity as an artist over entertainer. He was gaining momentum. And then he disappeared.

The decision to abandon the DJ culture that nurtured him peaked in late 2012 when he was touring with Mat Zo, “Easy” in development. “I remember being in the back of my tour bus, and we were all just listening to our favorite music and sharing tracks, and we did that for an hour, and there was not a single dance record that any of us wanted to play for each other.” (in Knaggs, 2014) EDM was losing its appeal. Porter was becoming fed up with the creative limitations of dance music as functional entertainment, the hackneyed structure that builds and releases for the sole purpose of partying. The fear of creative stagnation, which he frequently refers to as “the enemy” in interviews, prompted a retreat to Chapel Hill. “I’m going to go back and listen to every album that inspired me and figure out what it is that I loved about that stuff, and try to channel this all into something that’s really me.” (Robinson, 2014) No interviews, no tours—he dissolved back into the Internet so that the only time we saw his face was in hieroglyphics, 【＝◈︿◈＝】. If Porter hadn’t withdrawn at his peak, we might’ve lost interest in that year of Soundcloud inactivity and festival absence. But we didn’t. We were hungrily awaiting the big reveal.  

Worlds was Porter Robinson’s dissent from EDM, but it materialized less as a middle finger than a hug. It wasn’t 21-year-old Porter who emerged from the blue light portal of his parents’ basement, it was 12-year-old Porter, the boy consumed by the various universes of massive multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs). (in Knaggs, 2014) Porter constructed Worlds as a universe with different doors, where you could enter Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time or Diablo, Mario 64 or World of Warcraft, enter the fictional fantasy that he’d been living while “Say My Name” was still in the making. He forged a sonic trip down memory lane to the “cheesy 2000-era pop rock,” the late-90s/early-2000s video game chiptunes trapped in 8 bits, and the Japanese media that defined his childhood. To effectively and obviously reference this era in Worlds he went straight to the source, plucking out presets from General MIDI and SoundFonts, programs created in the 80s and 90s to facilitate seamless transitions from recorded to synthesized audio. (Robinson, 2014) “Most people would hear those and they wouldn’t think that it sounds retro, they would just think that it sounds bad. But for me, that’s moving the nostalgia forward.” (Robinson, 2014) This conglomerate of “retro” and contemporary synthesized sounds gives the album a timeless quality. Stadium-sized snare hits à la Phil Collins dance with unfamiliar modernity through advanced glitching effects. Every human voice on the album—including the many guest artists—is processed with an ethereal futurism. The album’s keyword was ‘escapism,’ the medium a projection of our imaginations. (Robinson, 2014)

In contrast to the discordant hues of the spitfire album cover, Worlds displays pastel softness. Deviating from the rapid-fire 128 to 140 BPM pace of Spitfire. Worlds hovers mostly around 90. Although 128 BPM rhythms do occur, they project a refined delicacy, as in the case of “Sea of Voices,” which actually feels like it floats through 32 BPM. If you were looking for a dance floor banger, Worlds was not the place to look. Crowds wouldn’t jump up and down at his shows anymore, but pulse the air with their outstretched hands, embracing each other affectionately and swaying in sensual undulations.

“Sad Machine” emerged as the immediate hit. An infectious opening hook carries the intro into Porter’s most singable verse yet. It’s a wistful post-apocalyptic duet between Porter and Avanna, a female character from a Japanese singing synthesis platform called Vocaloid. (Robinson, 2014) Boy meets robot. Boy and robot comfort each other in the wake of the end of the world. Porter embraced the role of vocalist out of necessity as the album’s due date rushed up, his vulnerable rawness as a singer contrasting with his computerized counterpart. (Robinson, 2014) His reference to Avanna in interviews as “she” and “her” is more endearing, rather than disturbing or pathetic, and he could care less that some label him an internet-certified pussy. “The best hate tweet I ever got was ‘hey loser go hang out with your imaginary robot girl’ I was like hell yes this dude gets it.” (twitter.com) K-k-k-kawaii, Porter!

Avanna resurfaces in tracks like “Fresh Static Snow” and “Goodbye to a World,” though not in the most Japanese of all, “Flicker.” In her place, a text-to-speech program spits out a nonsensical, whimsical rap of seamlessly chopped up and reconnected album titles translated to Japanese, albums like Daft Punk’s Discovery, his all time favorite. (Robinson, 2014)  This is one more example of how Porter cleverly repurposes his sources of musical inspiration directly into the product. “Flicker” is an ode to the Japanese ideal of the appreciation of beauty and color. He searches for the recreation of this ideal he’s absorbed from the timbre of Japanese video games through pensive breakdowns that bloom into optimistic chord progressions.

The most literal representation of Porter Robinson’s resignation from aggressively beat-driven EDM is “Fellow Feeling,” where a weeping violin multiplies into a mournful symphony worthy of a blockbuster soundtrack. The first two minutes of this elegant lament recall the piece Porter has claimed to be “the most beautiful song [he’s] ever heard,” the orchestral version of “Serenity” by Afternova, an expansion on a trance beat, within which also lurks the melody of “Language” and the movement of “Sea of Voices.” (in Harper, 2011) “Fellow Feeling” is conducted by a girl’s whispered narrative filled first with regret, then optimism.

           I cried, for I didn’t think it could be true

           That you and I might’ve always known one another

           And that we could not only evoke,

           But conjure a place of our own

           And that everywhere that has ever existed

           It was all in service for our dream

           Now, please, hear what I hear

A chugging techno monster abruptly infiltrates the symphony, assaulting the vulnerability of the strings with mechanical grime.

           Let me explain

           This ugliness, this cruelty, this repulsiveness

           It will all die out

           And, now, I cry for all that is beautiful

This duel between the two conflicting aesthetics then morphs into a hard-hitting complextro beat guided by a driving side-chained kick drum. To Porter, this was the easiest way to declare his separation from the perfunctory functionality of dance music. The hybrid house climax at the end, though, references “Language” and “Easy” to make clear that mellifluous music at 128 BPM is still a possibility.

If you visit Porter Robinson’s Soundcloud page you will find it cleansed of the “ugliness” and “repulsiveness” to which he refers in “Fellow Feeling.” Missing are his moombahton and dubstep releases, the faux-complextro pre-“Language” singles, and the bass-heavy Spitfire remixes. The density and grit of these tracks cannot, in his mind, coexist with his newly refined artistry. I wonder if Porter can even listen to “100% In the Bitch” now without cringing at its vulgarity. As for Soundcloud’s music discovery function, he spends at least an hour daily searching the server for new ideas rather than “crazy production prowess.” Rejecting the negative connotation of the word ‘novelty,’ he embraces its implication of distinctiveness. “When I hear something that I’ve never heard before, I love that feeling, and I think that’s one of the greatest things about electronic music.” (Robinson, 2014)

The conception of the Worlds tour was as immense an effort as the album itself. Porter handed everyone in his art department a 20-page document with explicit instructions on the visual concept. Surrealism based on glitch and role-playing video games rather than trippy drug-inspired imagery was the goal. (Robinson, 2014) The outcome was a multi-screen cinematic journey through flashes of vibrant and prismatic glitches and Japanese calligraphy, skies of floating islands, pixilated flower fields, molten orbs, and the familiar forests we experience vicariously through recurring anime characters that leap, fly and fall through Porter’s low-poly imagination. Full immersion in his vision is essential, so he performs only original compositions edited for the sake of novelty, triggering samples on drum pads, playing dominant melodies on keys, and singing wherever possible. He defies the odds against a single DJ possessing so much virtuosic musicality. Inevitably, the experience begs the emotional participation of his audiences, which is guided by narrations, the most memorable of which is the following:

Every place you’ve ever imagined

It’s real

There is a fictional city in your

mind and you know every corner of it

Your mind is a world

Each of us is a place

This shit really takes you on a feel trip.

The conclusion of the album and the live show is Avanna’s swan song, “Goodbye to a World.” In the most heartbreaking instance of the overarching apocalyptic theme of Worlds, Avanna devolves literal bit by bit into her monotone death. The fragility that leads to worlds’ destruction references the MMPORGs so significant to Porter which, “once the company goes under, or the game is no longer profitable...these worlds are completely inaccessible. They basically just die.” (in Knaggs, 2014) I imagine young Porter’s eyes welling with tears as the server shuts down and he is forcibly returned to reality. “Worlds doesn’t really have a place in reality,” he tells us. (in Knaggs, 2014) As he grapples with the imminence of adulthood, he preserves a child-like fantasy. It’s a vessel of fiction and escapism, which is really the guiding spirit of EDM as a whole, though Worlds has liberated Porter from the shackles of the conventionally vapid modes of this ideology. As he noticed EDM curating its own obsolescence, he mapped out his immortality in an alternate universe with an open invitation and warm welcome for those of us who wish to join him.

  Bibliography

Robinson, Porter. Porter Robinson on DJing and the State of EDM. YouTube. N.p., 12 Aug. 2014. Web.

    10 Dec. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdzj2I0QgP8>.

 Robinson, Porter. "A Powerhouse, And He's Not Yet 20." Interview by Jim Fusilli. The Wall Street

    Journal. N.p., 4 July 2012. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.wsj.com/articles/

    SB10001424052702304299704577502452164796814>.

 Robinson, Porter. Porter Robinson Q&A @ Lollapalooza 2012. Interview by Jonathan Brooks. YouTube.

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 Robinson, Porter. "New 'World' Order: Porter Robinson Interviewed." Interview by Rob Knaggs.

    Clas. N.p., 11 June 2014. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.clashmusic.com/features/

    new-world-order-porter-robinson-interviewed#view-gallery-image-2>.

 Robinson, Porter. Porter Robinson Interview: 'EDM is entertainment, it's not art'. YouTube. N.p., 5

    June 2014. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OwOLDyJv-wI>.

 Robinson, Porter. Porter Robinson on Video Games and Breaking Down Tracks from His Debut Album,

    'Worlds'. YouTube. N.p., 11 Aug. 2014. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/

    watch?v=UiRDqYxPSig>.

 Robinson, Porter. EMC 2014: Keynote Porter Robinson: Changing the Game. Interview by Nick Thayer.

    YouTube. N.p., 15 Dec. 2014. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/

    watch?v=iPxfWmnRmyw>.

 Robinson, Porter. "Porter Robinson Interview." easylove Records. N.p., 1 Nov. 2010. Web. 10 Dec.

    2015. <http://www.easyloverecords.com/porter-robinson-interview/>.

 Sachs, Elliot. "Porter Robinson Refuses to Work with Katy Perry." YourEDM. N.p., 10 Aug. 2012. Web.

    10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.youredm.com/2012/08/20/

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  Robinson, Porter. "An Interview with Porter Robinson." Interview by Sarah Harper. Knight News. N.p.,

    29 Oct. 2011. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://knightnews.com/2011/10/

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 Robinson, Porter. "Q&A: Porter Robinson Loves SF, His Dogs, and Japan." Interview by Carlos Olin

    Montalvo. SF Station. N.p., 12 Sept. 2014. Web. 10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.sfstation.com/2014/

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