#Hollywood Living: One Sweet Day ( The Alternate Ending )

[buffynha]

Forever Friends

By Talks

Brittany appears back in Santana's life after the death of her parents. Follow the pair became Brittana once again. * Tears * Love * Laughs * Drama * Angst *

Rated: Fiction M

Genre: Romance/Angst

Characters: [Santana L., Brittany P.] Quinn F., Mercedes J.

Status: complete

Chapters: 65

Words: 65,535

Published: Feb 23, 2013

Updated: Mar 21, 2014

Hollywood Living

By Talks

Brittany and Santana juggle raising their four kids while pursuing their active Hollywood careers. Sequel to Forever Friends but can stand alone.

Rated: Fiction M

Genre: Romance/Angst

Characters: [Santana L., Brittany P.] Quinn F., Mercedes J.

Status: complete

Chapters: 73

Words: 65,535

Published: Aug 17, 2013

Updated: Feb 26, 2015

Hollywood Living: Battle of the Birds

By Talks

Thanksgiving themed one shot from the Hollywood Living verse where Santana and Brittany take on their friends in a friendly competition of who can make the best turkey for Thanksgiving. * Brittana * Love * Humor * Friendship *

Rating: M

Genre: Friendship, Humor

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L. , Quinn F.

Status: Complete

Chapters: one shot

Words: 4,758

Published: Nov 28, 2014

Hollywood Living: The Easter Egg Hunt

by Talks

Celebrate Easter Sunday with the Lopez Pierce family. - A Easter one shot chapter that is from the Hollywood Living verse- so the kids are their ages in the story before the time jumps at the end, meaning Noah is 16, Ashton is 10, Carter is 8, and Mackenzie is 4.

Rating: M

Genre: Family, Humor

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L.

Status: Complete

Chapters: one shot

Words: 3,905

Published: Apr 6, 2015

Hollywood Living: A Very Lima Christmas Carole

by Talks

AU Christmas where the LP family travels to Lima for the holidays.

Rating: M

Genre: Drama, Humor

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L.

Status: Incomplete

Chapters: 2

Words: 4,735

Published: Dec 21, 2016

Hollywood Living: One Sweet Day ( The Alternate Ending )

by Talks

“This one shot takes place after chapter 68 of Hollywood Living when Brittany had her big health scare in London.”

Rating: M

Genre: Angst, Character Death

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L., Mercedes J., Quinn F., Rachel B.

Status: Complete

Chapters: one shot

Words: 11,654

Published: Sep 25, 2014

My Wife and Kids

by Talks

Brittany and Santana juggle raising three teenagers while still handling their own personal Hollywood Careers. *Trilogy to Forever Friends and Hollywood Living" * Brittana * Smut * Romance * Humor *

Rating: M

Genre: Drama, Romance

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L.

Status: Completed

Chapters: 97

Words: 576,377

Published: Aug 2, 2014

Updated: Apr 4, 2019

This Christmas

by Talks

HL/MWAK AU Set 10 years in the future from MWAK, The four Lopez-Pierce family is finally all together after 5 years of spending Christmas spread around the country. As the family catches up around the holiday, secrets and truths are revealed.

Rating: M

Genre: Drama, Family

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L.

Status: incomplete

Chapters: 4

Words: 12,039

Published: Dec 11, 2015

Updated: Aug 13, 2017

Summer Madness

by Talks

My Wife and Kids companion piece - Brittany and Santana spend the summer in New York reconnecting with one another without the distractions of work, friends, or their kids. Cooking lessons and wine tastings, beach days and thunderstorm movie dates bring the best friends and wives back together while strengthening their marriage

Rating: M

Genre: Drama, Romance

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L.

Status: incomplete

Chapters: 2

Words: 5,440

Published: Jul 31, 2017

Updated: Aug 15, 2017

Stir Crazy

by Talks

The Lopez-Pierce family from Hollywood Living and My Wife and Kids are sticking out the quarantine together.

Rating: M

Genre: Drama, Romance

Characters: Brittany P., Santana L.

Status: incomplete

Chapters: 14

Words: 45,934

Published: Apr 7, 2020

Updated: Mar 18, 2021

[mikeywayarchive]

Mikey Way: “I was borderline terrified a lot of the time My Chemical Romance was active. I was learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night!”

By Gregory Adams ( Bass Player ) published June 9th 2023

The reunited emo kings’ low-end ranger reveals why he swapped out his signature Fender Mustang for a sparkling new signature Jazz Bass, learning bass in arenas, and how he overcame insecurity about his chops

Full interview under cut:

My Chemical Romance’s reunion has seen bassist Mikey Way thrumming through the high pomp punk of The Black Parade and Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge favorites with a familiar rhythmic fortitude, but keen-eyed band obsessives have probably noticed the musician is no longer sporting the snazzy, silver-flake Squier Mustang signature model Fender built for him back in 2012. 

The good news is that’s because, as Fender have just formally announced, Way has a brand-new – but just as glammy – Jazz Bass out now. There’s a good reason why Way’s made the switch: the Jazz Bass is his first love.

Though he started out on guitar, Way got the hang of a four-string in the mid ‘90s while playing a loaned-out Jazz Bass in his pre-My Chemical Romance project, Ray Gun Jones. He upgraded to a silver-finish Jazz of his own by the time MCR started touring in the early ‘00s, but a trailer mishap led to that instrument getting smashed to pieces on a highway.

Way tells Guitar World that he eventually became obsessed with the short-scale sturdiness of a Mustang bass guitar as My Chemical Romance were writing their 2010 full-length, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, after fooling around with a model Duff McKagan had left at North Hollywood’s Mates Rehearsal Studio. By 2012, Way had his Squier model in stores.

It was during the downtime after My Chemical Romance went on hiatus in 2013, though, that the stubbiness of his Mustang became a little hard to handle.

“I stayed away from playing bass for a little while, which is natural – I was just decompressing,” Way explains. “Then, sometime in 2014, I picked up the bass again, to get my chops back, [but] I noticed that the Mustang felt strange to me.” 

After reaching out to the folks at Fender, Way got a grip on his playing by stretching out on the longer-necked Jazzes they sent him. Way’s take on the Jazz Bass is outfitted with ’70s-style single-coil pickups, and a thinline “C”-shaped maple neck the bassist says is super-speedy.

The finish is silver, of course, but Way also wanted an aesthetically inkier black pickguard. The headstock, likewise, pops with its matching gloss-black finish.

Speaking with Guitar World, Way gets into the glam and grunge gods who inspired his love of a good sparkle coat, overcoming performance anxiety, and why a steady attack wins the bass race every time.

What were some of the musts when it came to designing this latest signature?

“I’ve been obsessed with the sparkle finish as far back as I can remember. Growing up in the ‘90s, the silver-flake [finish] was big in alternative music. Chris Cornell had the Gretsch Silver Jet, [Daniel Johns] from Silverchair had one – [with] the imagery the Smashing Pumpkins used, they liked sparkles.

“Ace Frehley, of course, was big into flake finishes, and as a kid, you love the larger-than-life, comic book world of Kiss. [And there’s] David Bowie – the glam rock stuff. That flake finish makes me think of so many different things, but that’s why I love it so much.

“I remember being younger and going into stores and seeing a flake finish and being like, 'Oh my god, that’s an expensive [looking guitar] – I can’t afford that, let alone play it.' It was almost intimidating.”

One aesthetic difference between your Mustang model and this Jazz is that you didn’t throw a racing stripe on this one.

“I thought about bringing it back and keeping the continuity. Maybe somewhere down the line we’ll throw a racing stripe on this. The thing with [seeing a] racing stripe was always like, 'This player is a badass!'”

Is there a psychology behind removing the racing stripe, then?

“The psychology behind it is that I forgot about it. When My Chemical Romance was talking about doing reunion shows [in 2019], I’d contacted Michael Schulz from Fender and was like, 'Is it OK if I make a new bass for this [next] era of My Chemical Romance?' I wanted to take my past and bring it to the future – taking my Mustang and melding it with the Jazz Basses that I loved so much. 

“I tried to have my cake and eat it, too. I wanted the thinner neck, and I wanted the silver-flake, but I wanted it on a Jazz Bass. They knocked it out of the park immediately.”

Getting back to how you used to admire those silver-flake guitars in the shops, you actually started out as a guitarist, right?

“So, the story goes that my brother [My Chemical Romance vocalist Gerard Way] had a Sears acoustic guitar when he was 10 years old. We would take a shoelace and make a strap, and we would stand on the couch pretending we were in Iron Maiden. And then it got real around ’93-’94, which lines up with the rise of alternative music. You started to see people that looked exactly like you, and they were playing guitar. They were playing Fender Strats! 

“My brother got a Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue. I found it not too long ago, and Michael from Fender hot-rodded it. That’s how I cut my teeth – that Mexican Stratocaster [was] my first foray into really trying to learn how to play guitar. I would watch bootlegs of concerts, and watch [guitarists’] hands and fingers – Thom Yorke, Billy Corgan, Noel Gallagher, Jonny Greenwood. I would watch what they were doing. It all started from that.

“Bass came out of necessity, twice. Me and my brother had a band called Ray Gun Jones, I guess in ’95-’96. It was kind of Weezer-ish, or us doing a surf-punk thing [with] a little bit of pre-mid-west emo. At the time we were really into Weezer, Jawbreaker, Promise Ring, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Sunny Day Real Estate. 

“[Ray Gun Jones] needed a bass player, so my brother was like 'Hey, do you want to play bass for my band?' I was already a huge fan – I’d always tag along to practices. The ex-bass player let me borrow their bass. We had 4-5 songs, and I got the rudimentary from that. In that era, everyone was like, 'I want to be a guitar hero,' but I realized I had a natural knack for [bass]. I picked it up right away. 

“Then, with My Chemical Romance, it was the same thing. My brother was like, 'We need a bass player,' and I was like, 'Well, this is familiar' [laughs]. 'Here’s the demo; learn these songs.' They weren’t terribly difficult.”

Was that bass you had borrowed a Fender Jazz?

“Yup, I’ve only ever played Fender. I’ve tried tons of other basses from other companies, but it always feels alien to me.”

You mentioned studying the playing of Thom Yorke or Billy Corgan through those bootleg vids. Were there any bassists that you treated similarly, to understand the mechanics of bass?

“Matt Sharp from Weezer. I tried to ape him in the beginning, but my attack sounds vaguely reminiscent of a Smashing Pumpkins recording. I would learn Siamese Dream and Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and the Blue Album [the band’s 1994 self-titled debut] by Weezer. Those were the three albums that I put the most time into learning. That’s in my DNA.”

How about from a hyper-local perspective. If My Chemical Romance started out playing New Jersey basements and VFW halls, where there any bassists from that scene that inspired you, or that you appreciated?

“Yes! We shared a rehearsal space with this band called Pencey Prep – that was [MCR guitarist] Frank Iero’s original band. John McGuire was their bassist, and he let me borrow his equipment all the time. He taught me fundamentals, and gave me pointers – he taught me a whole heck of a lot. 

“I always respected Tim Payne from Thursday, I loved his attack and stage presence. And when I’d watch Gabe Saporta from Midtown, I thought 'This dude is the coolest guy in the room.' He’s got this calm, cool, and collected [presence] that you can’t fake or learn. And then Eben D’amico from Saves the Day – brilliant! 

“I would try to learn Saves the Day basslines. They were pretty complex [compared to] what most bands were doing in that scene. Most bands in the post-hardcore scene had simplistic basslines, but Saves the Day did not.

“There’s also Ray Toro, the guitar player of My Chemical Romance. Not only is he truly gifted at guitar, but he’s truly gifted at bass and drums – Ray can do everything. He was instrumental, early on, with showing me the ropes. Ray gave me lessons when I was a novice. I can’t thank him enough for that.”

What kind of pointers was he giving you?

“He showed me proper fretting, or [how to maintain] a steady attack. I got a really great compliment from our front-of-house guy, Jay Rigby. He told me that I’m one of the very few bass players that he doesn’t have to go in and tweak the volume [for]. 'You’re steady, throughout.' I think that’s something that Ray Toro instilled in me: the consistency of attack. 

“It’s funny thinking about it, but I was such a novice going into My Chemical Romance that I would bring myself into an anxiety-ridden state of, 'Oh my god, we have a show tonight; I have to start practicing right now.' I would be practicing four to five hours before we played – I’d play the set [in the green room], and then I’d play it again. Other bands would be like, 'What are you doing?' I was so neurotic at that point, because there were so many people around me that were beyond gifted. 

“I got pushed into the deep end; you’ve got no choice but to figure it out. Ray and Frank are so gifted that I had to keep up. I didn’t want to ever do the music a disservice.

“That brings me back to the simplicity of the early My Chem basslines. The first album [2002’s I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] was me learning the bass, and somehow [producer] John Naclerio recorded me and said, 'You did a great job,' which I did not expect. 

“I thought I was going to go in there and they were going to have to do some studio magic, or someone would come in and play [my] part. I thought of the worst-case scenario, but I went in and did it. I played the bass seriously [enough] by that point.”

What are you generally looking for in a My Chemical Romance bassline? 

“What makes it for me is if I do a fill, I’ll only do it once. If you listen to [the band's 2022 comeback single] The Foundations of Decay, any fill on there I only do one time. What’s interesting about The Foundations of Decay is that it’s very loose and run-and-gun. We went in and punched things in for timing, which everyone in the world does, but the meat of that is first-or-second take. Which brings me to someone else who was very instrumental to my bass playing: Doug McKean.

“He’s no longer with us, unfortunately, but he was our engineer from The Black Parade [until his passing in 2022]. He was always a huge cheerleader for me – he instilled confidence in me. He was always good at getting a killer performance out of me.”

What are some of the biggest My Chemical Romance bass moments for you?

“I’ll say that fill in on Foundations. No-one saw that coming.”

There’s a YouTube video out there of someone playing their favorite Mikey Way basslines, some while using your signature Squier Mustang, but one standout in particular is The Black Parade’s The Sharpest Lives.

“What’s funny is Sharpest Lives has a bass solo, and I was terrified of it. I had performance anxiety [through] the 12 years before we broke up – I don’t have it anymore. Somehow when the band got back together, a switch in my brain [got] flipped. [But] while My Chem was active, I was borderline terrified a lot of the time.

“I’m playing with people far above my skill level, I’m playing [on bills] with bands where their bass players are way better than me, [and] our shows were getting massive. We were playing arenas! So not only are you learning the bass, but you’re learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night. It made me tweak a little, but I think it shaped me into what I became.

“That solo gave me anxiety. It was when we were playing the biggest venues of our career, and it would break for the solo [Way starts singing his ascending bass lick]. I practiced it relentlessly, then it [became] second nature. Later on, it [became my favorite part of the show.”

You’re already playing the Jazz signature in your live show, yeah?

“It’s what I use for the live show. Basically, Fender built [it] for the reunion, and then we made a couple tweaks for when we release it.”

Was there a learning curve at all towards transferring My Chemical Romance songs you’d written on a Mustang onto the Jazz?

“There was Planetary (GO!), a song off Danger Days. I’d guess you’d say the whole thing is a disco beat. It’s dance-y – [Mikey starts singing an octave-popping bassline], I do that for the entirety of the song. I was very happy that I only had to do that on a Mustang, initially [because of the shorter scale]. But going back to what I said, [after] I took a little break, [I] went back to a Jazz Bass. 

“I missed the room, or the way my hand went up and down the neck. I wanted to go back to that, so I jumped back in and felt right at home again.”

How many Jazzes are you bringing on the road?

“I bring two basses out, [but] I stopped even switching [during the set]. This is a testament to Fender craftsmanship – that thing stays in tune. It’s got the four-saddle bridge, and it stays in tune so well. I’m a little neurotic so I’ll tune every few songs, but if I went five to six songs you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

What does it mean to you to now have a fully-formed Fender signature model – as opposed to the Squier – and with the body shape you began your career with?

“It’s really a dream come true. It’s funny, in 2002-3 we started touring across the country. I had a Mexican Jazz Bass, but [the band] were like, 'You have to use something with better electronics; better wood. Step it up!' So, I went into the Guitar Center on Route 46 in New Jersey, and at the time Fender had released a special Guitar Center edition that was silver-flake. 

“It always bugged me that the pickguard was white – it threw me off, aesthetically, and I was like, 'I’m going to change that pickguard one day.' So, I got that, and I was using that for a while. 

“We were out with [Boston emo quartet] Piebald – it was one of our first cross-country tours ever – and one night someone forgot to close the trailer door. We’re driving on the highway, and half the contents spilled out – unfortunately, my bass was a casualty of that.

“But Frank Iero, and his heart of gold, jumped out on the highway in the middle of the night and tried to recover [the bass]. He was like, 'Maybe we can fix it!' I’ll never forget him doing that. He got a chunk of it – it’s in one of our storage units.”

For more information on the Limited Edition Mikey Way Jazz Bass, head to Fender.com.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 21- Lorelai’s Graduation Day, Aka Lovesick Stepcousins In The Big City, Part 3

I'm cheering Rory on as she leaves school grounds, leaving these 35 year old classmates in the dust, and as she manages to pull it off under the eyes of two teachers or administrators. Yes yes yes! Well from here on out it's going to be pure Literati appreciation with only minimal anger and rage, you know, my usual shtick. That being said, when that happens I start to sound a little disjointed, like, this episode is so pure and precious and enjoyable that I really don't have much snarky commentary on it and I can just watch it. What am I without my snark powers?

Destiny awaits. In one of many examples of what I call "Gilmore Girls Poor"*, which is a term I coined myself for how AmyShermanPalladino views lower/middle class/urban/city life, Rory manages to end up in the Port Authority Bus Terminal in another dimension. The Alternate Dimension, 100% white, Spotlessly Clean, Nearly People-Free New York City Bus Terminal where she stared down a scary dude without being stabbed and she was offered a locker to store her book bag. (*More examples of GGP: In season 4, Jess is 19 years old, a high school dropout, and is living in a clean, rat and roach free, enormous New York City apartment with working utiltiies and large windows that in today's housing crisis people would murder him to get, he just needed a bed frame and to pick his shit up off the floor but we are supposed to believe its a crack den; Rory and Lorelai live in a beautiful home and eat take out and restaurant food every day on nothing more than an innkeeper's slary)

This was cute. Rory the little mouse getting ignored by city folk. I love it so much.

I think AmyShermanPalladino inserted this smoking guy to make it look like Rory was in a rough part of town. Someone finally gives our little mouse an abrupt answer on how to get to Washington Square Park where she can meet her stepcousin and her destiny.

The little smirk before he turns around! And then, and then...and then...the big grin when he sees her!

I am STARVING for stepcousins!!!!!! ..And the Emmy Award for the whitest words ever spoken on teleivison goes to Alexis Bledel, as Rory Gilmore in Gilmore Girls:

Baring his naked forearms like a saucy strumpet. Book sticking awkwardly out of his back pocket. He either finds the smallest books or has the roomiest ass pockets that he keeps pulling that off. How does he do that?

This is all so precious and pure I could die.

He is RAPT with attention listening to her silly stories. Show me where Dean or Logan ever paid this much attention to her telling one of these stories.

We know, Bubs. We know :(

Red alert! Red alert! Our first display of physical contact!

Jess says he eats from this hot dog cart every day. Let's unpack this: 1) Holy child neglect, Batman! I mean, Liz Danes. You can't even make your kid a peanut butter and jelly sandwich once in a while? This boy is feral. These are survival hot dogs. This may be all he can afford to eat on his own. 2) How are you still as skinny as a rail? 3) How's your blood pressure? 4) Where are you getting the money?

This sweet bubba unquestionably paid for Rory's lunch like a true gentleman.

I refuse to acknolwedge any sort of Behind the Scenes Hollywood mumbo jumbo like "Milo wasn't ACTUALLY eating the hot dog" or “umm, it’s a prop hot dog”. i am firmly committed to a scenario where everyone on the set for this episode was like "Milo our precious vegetarian baby boy we will get you a tofu hot dog to eat"

Ending this chapter with this adorable face.

[kxll-kat]

it’s a dog eat dog world, and KATERINA MOLINA has to learn how to bare their teeth without letting the cameras flashes catch anything other than a smile. with a face like DEMI LOVATO, the world wants nothing from HER except all that SHE has to offer. KAT has had 13 YEARS in town to learn the rules of living it up on top. but at just TWENTY-NINE, will they try to make peace with the golden scale that’ll try to tell them their heart is in the right place or fight for what they want? with 3 INCH HIGH COMBAT BOOTS WITH SPIKES TO KILL, A HOT BOXED ROOM WITH THE STENCH OF WEED AND SWEET PERFUME, A MIXTURE OF BLOOD AND ALCOHOL ON A TORN UP LIP to make up their reputation, let’s hope the SINGER won’t look for the saints in the city of angels to help them. there’s nothing holy about hollywood. ( Mimi, 26, she/her, est, n/a )

Name: Katerina Molina

Age: 29

Faceclaim: Demi Lovato

Occupation: Singer

Background Information (A mixture of bio/headcanons) 

Katerina got her start on Broadway. At the age of 12. It was during that time she was extensively doing vocal warm ups. 

Through the help of her agent and a producer who saw her sing, Kat landed a role on one of those after school shows (imagine Degrassi). While it was mostly acting her role had singing parts. 

She did the child star life for a period of time. Eventually she used the fame she garnered to put out her first album. 

When she was 18 years old she began dabbling with drugs and alcohol. 

Her true problem was her self image. Katerina hated how she looked because everyone had something to say about her body. Even at a young age. It caused her to suffer from self harm. She suffered with suicidal ideation as well as major depressive disorder. This is still an ongoing issue.

She ended up in hospitals and psychiatric treatments which ended up being like her second home. However, the media believed it was drugs abuse which gave her a horrible reputation. This is something she struggles with to this day. 

Katerina’s team believed she would sell more money if she did pop music. Even though it wasn’t the style she wanted to do. More than half of Kat’s career is music she isn’t proud of. 

The music Kat puts out is Pop-Punk, Emo, Alternative. 

Katerina smokes a ton of weed. She had stopped taking her medication for a year. She exclusively smokes pot for her mental health problems. She thinks it has saved her life. 

Katerina’s Pinterest

[norwest2022]

Orthodontics for Children: Here’s How You Can Encourage Your Kids To Wear Braces

When it comes to orthodontics for children, the earlier dental alignment issues are addressed, the more likely it is for one to avoid severe complications. However, persuading children to wear braces and assuring them that wearing one is not the end of the world can be challenging. Most children don't want to have braces because they are worried that they might get teased, give up sweets, or as far as thinking that they would have metal placed in their teeth for the rest of their lives.

While some of these are exaggerations made by other people, you can still persuade your youngster to wear braces with the following suggestions:

Introduce convenient options

Many young individuals assume that braces are massive metal items fastened to the teeth. Although this is still true today, it is no longer the case. Braces are available in a number of styles these days, and youngsters have a lot of alternatives, such as Invisalign. If you have trouble persuading them to wear one, bring up this suggestion and see if they would give it a second thought.

Inspire them through their idols

Children are understandably apprehensive that getting braces might cause them to be teased by other kids. This is especially the case for teenagers. You may assist relieve some of the tension by pointing out that many Hollywood superstars used to wear braces and are now known for their attractiveness and beautiful smiles. 

Explain the disadvantages

If your youngster is involved in extracurricular activities, it will be simple for him or her to comprehend the need for orthodontic treatment. You can attempt a more emotional approach by telling them that the importance of a smile is critical to one's future profession and personal life and that it affects all aspects of one's life. Explain to them the negative connotation that comes with having terrible teeth and how appearances can potentially affect one's achievement. Moreover, don't forget to state this in an educational way to avoid misinterpretation.

Provide a different perspective

Many pre-teens and teenagers feel self-conscious about their physical appearance. Nevertheless, this does not rule out the possibility of persuading them to acquire braces. First and foremost, tell them that maintaining one's look is a long-term commitment. Then, try to educate them about dental diseases, including micrognathia, periodontitis, crowding, and other issues that might result from uneven or overlapping teeth. Talking about this type of information should persuade them that the short-term discomfort caused by braces is well worth it.

Final Thoughts

All in all, some teenagers nowadays are quite concerned about their health, particularly when it comes to fitness. This group of teens may be the easiest to persuade since they are more aware of the long-term consequences of improper tooth alignment. Moreover, you can easily describe and explain to them how the human system is interrelated and how the health of one part impacts the health of the others. 

When trying to persuade your children that they need orthodontic treatment, avoid disregarding their sentiments as much as possible. And with open communication and the assistance of a child-friendly and caring orthodontist like Norwest Orthodontics, this can become a rewarding life event rather than a frightening and unpleasant one.

[aerithisms]

hi! i was wondering if you could share some of your favorite faberry fanfics? :)

oh ABSOLUTELY bestie come with me on a journey where i embarrass myself by revealing just how much time i've spent reading this stuff over the past few months

you're the trouble i always find by mooosicaldreamz

quinn and rachel meet again as adults when rachel gets cast as the lead on the tv show quinn's writing. fun fact i read this one before i even watched the show because i was bored and it was such a love letter to glee and faberry that it singlehandedly compelled me to watch it and now here we are

stays in vegas by gayerfurtherfaster

the glee club is in vegas for a reunion and when rachel and quinn wake up to discover that they're married they have to retrace their steps from the night before. this one is adorable and so FUNNY i love it a lot

various works by forforever19

forforever19 is a hero of modern society who has written TONS of faberry fic over the last couple of years that i've barely scratched the surface of so i'm sure if you frequent the faberry ao3 you've seen them around but here are some i've read and liked: waiting for a girl like you (alternate take on the wedding fiasco), worth the wait (rachel's college roommate pulls her head out of her ass), to last a lifetime (a vehicle for lots of cute vignettes), meant to be (amnesia fic because i live for the drama), just my soul responding (soulmate au), and one single thread of gold (tied me to you) (also a soulmate au lol)

we are lead (to those who help us most to grow) by nightshifted

alternate take on season 1 quinn and her mental state during the pregnancy storyline after she moves in with mercedes. features the quinncedes friendship we deserve and ofc faberry being in love

you say you've gone away from me (but i can feel you when i breathe) by yumi_michiyo

completely canon compliant post-canon fix-it fic that takes quinn's "and i donated the egg" joke line literally and features quinn and rachel finding their way back to each other through being surrogates for the klaine baby. this fic is my official headcanon for what happens after the finale because i think it's so lovely and treats the characters well

simple parts by flyingflesheater

time travel au where senior year quinn and rachel travel forward to find themselves married in the future. i'm always a sucker for the drama of the time travel trope and i thought the family dynamic in this one was especially interesting

devolution by poetzproblem

alternate take on season 3 quinn that really digs into her psyche during that time in the show. it's lighter on the faberry (though the faberry is there!) in favour of character study and i think it does quinn so much justice. also features really sweet quinntana friendship

poetzproblem is another one of those people who's written a LOT of faberry over the years that i'm sure you've heard of and i haven't read anything close to all of it (i haven't tackled their mammoth don't blink series yet but i have faith that it slaps) but i also loved magical mystery tour, a cute time travel flash forward fic (time travel seems to be a big trope in faberry fandom for some reason? i'm into it) and acceptance/remembrance, in which hollywood actress quinn fabray keeps thanking a mysterious rachel berry in her awards acceptance speeches

take these broken wings series by celaenos

canon divergence that follows what quinn's journey might've been like if she kept beth. haven't finished this one yet (mostly because i adore it and i want to savour it lol) but i love this quinn and the found family of it all so, so much. strongly features her friendship with my himbo king sam evans

you and her loathing this cruel world by thememoriesfire

thememoriesfire seems to have been a pretty big name author back in the day and i haven't read either of their biggest faberry fics yet but i really love this one, where it's kurt that quinn gets pregnant with instead of puck, and quinn, kurt, sam and rachel form one big unconventional family

sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything by andawaywego

i've read a few fics by this author and so far they've all been great but this one sticks to me the most. finn's death is such a difficult subject, especially for fanfiction, since it's so wrapped up in the death of a real world person, but i thought this fic handled it in a very delicate way and had such a thoughtful exploration of how rachel might deal with that grief while falling for someone new

mistyheartrbs (also my beloved mutual @mistyheartrbs here on tumblr dot com) has written a ton of faberry fic that i've barely started digging into but this recent missing scene fic set during season 3 made me feel insane so i offer it as a place to start

gonna stop there and i'm sure i'm forgetting something i loved but there is so much good faberry fic out there it's the best!! i don't usually end up into fandoms where the fic writing scene is this prolific and i'm having a lot of fun indulging in the backlog

[hargrove-mayfields]

Memories Are Golden

The prom of ‘85 was just one week away. If you asked Steve how much involvement he would’ve have in the event, not even a month ago he would’ve guessed it to be nothing more than maybe taking a flyer home and immediately throwing it in the trash.

Because he wouldn’t be able to go anyways, him and his date didn’t exactly abide by the administration's rules, or society’s, for that matter, so he didn’t care about the whole thing, until last minute, when Nancy had successfully convinced him to be a part of the prom committee with her.

The conversation had basically been a very lengthy guilt trip, he’s well aware of that, and her whole, ‘best moments of our lives’ speech hadn’t really done much to change his mind either.

In the end, Steve had only decided he was going to do it for three reasons: he’d get extra credit in the teacher in charge of prom, the math teachers, class, he wouldn’t have to go to any of his morning classes, and Robin joined in on Nancy’s bullying him because her and Heather would be apart of the committee too.

So now for the next week leading up to the big day, Steve has to spend his mornings in the gym putting up the decorations for the grand march.

But it isn’t all bad, because their small little task force made up of the other poor souls Nancy had rallied to do this with her is all of his friends, Nancy and Barb and Robin and Heather, with the addition of one very begrudging Billy Hargrove.

The girls were all the type you’d expect to be into this thing, the crafty ones mixed in with popularity, and everyone knew Steve would do anything to show school spirit, especially if Nancy bullied him into it, but nobody actually expected Billy of all people to even show up.

He certainly looked more likely to be the one crashing the prom than hanging up little foil stars on the walls, and anyways, rumor had it he only was on the committee as an alternative to detention for smoking weed under the bleachers.

But Steve knew that had absolutely not happened, for one thing, Billy’s weed stayed tightly locked up in his bedroom, thank you very much, and for another, he was there completely willingly. Steve knew that, because he’d been the one to tell Billy to sign up.

Which, when it really got right down to it, Billy honestly was the only reason Steve was even doing this whole thing. They were used to working in a couple of very limited interactions on the court or in the few classes they shared, but with the prom committee they’d be required to spend at least four hours together every day. It was the golden opportunity, even if that wasn’t the way Nancy intended it.

So maybe Billy does show up a little late every morning on purpose, just to keep up appearances, but he’s got a smile on his face, hidden behind the styrofoam coffee cup he gets from the cafeteria as he seeks out Steve and sits beside him in the bleachers to wait for that days instruction.

“Mornin’ Bill.” Steve mumbles tiredly, used to coming in late every day and getting at least an extra hour of sleep most days.

Billy nods and hums in his throat as his only response, so Steve asks him, “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’?”

And of course, in true Billy fashion, he flashes Steve his most shit eating grin, and says all nonchalant, “Always do when I wake up alone.”

It’s so cheesy, and very obviously meant to get to him, but Steve can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck. He’s still trying to think up an equally as flustering comeback, when the teacher in charge finally shows up.

She announces that this year’s theme was ‘under the stars’, which Steve thought sounded incredibly tacky, but there was still no way it would be any worse than the godawful ‘hollywood’ theme from the year before. Hawkins High had a reputation for a lot of things, but creativity was not one of them.

They get split up into groups, Nancy and Barb in charge of the promo, the writing up, designing, and printing of the announcements and tickets, and Robin and Heather got the delicate detail work, blowing up balloons, laying down the artificial grass squares and hanging or putting in place whatever the other groups made them.

Billy and Steve, on the other hand, were stuck with all the dirty work, the manly jobs. They’re the ones who have to paint the banner that’s going to go over the door, and carry anything that’s considered too heavy and hang anything too high (even though Barb really isn’t that much shorter than them), and set up the tents and string the electricity to the lights in the fake lamp posts.

Quite frankly, Steve doesn’t think it’s fair that they have double the workload as the girls, most of the week had been dedicated to their work, but he just can’t bring himself to complain about getting to watch Billy working every morning, still barely awake yet, his hair pulled up so it didn’t get paint or that much glitter in it.

~~~~~~~~

On their last day in the gym, all that’s left is to sort out a few last minute details, the final squares of fake grass are laid out, lights are tested and glitter is spread out on everything. It doesn’t take too awful long, so they end up with just under three hours leftover to kill.

What they’re supposed to do is report back to their morning classes and try to catch up on all the work they’ve been missing out on for the entire week, but Billy isn’t looking to worry about a bunch of school work, so he tries to convince the rest to skip those last few hours with him.

From Barb and Nancy he gets an instant no, which, he was honestly expecting that. They’re responsible girls, and he can’t blame them for giving two shits about their education. The fact of the matter is though, that he doesn’t.

What he isn’t expecting as much is for his best friend to tell him no, but Heather’s too excited about her senior prom to get in trouble the day before it, and he can respect that.

He already knows that if Heather’s not going, Robin’s not either, so he waves her off before she even bothers trying to explain herself.

That just leaves Steve, and lord knows Billy’s been a bad enough influence on him that he doesn’t even have to ask if he’s ditching, so when Mrs Mitchell and the girls leave, they follow behind until they’re out in the hallway, then duck out of the back entrance of the gym.

Most of the time when people skip they just go home considering the lack of literally anything at all to do around Hawkins, but with Steve’s house too far away for it to be worth leaving, and Billy’s stepmom still at home, that sort of wasn’t an option for them.

Usually they don’t skip for those very reasons, but today they have a handwritten excuse to be out of their classes until exactly 12:15, so in a way, it isn’t so much like skipping as it is just using their free time wisely. Or at least, that’s how Steve rationalizes it, earning from Billy, who thought it was sweet that his former bad boy felt it necessary to make excuses for skipping, a chuckle and a warm smile.

They decide to just hang out on the school grounds, nowhere in town to go but the diner and the stores downtown, and they weren’t in the mood for food nor did they have enough money to blow buying stupid shit they didn’t need, so smoking and sneaking kisses by the tree line on the practice field it was.

It’s nice, but Billy doesn’t like the quiet, furrowed brow as he plucks blades of just growing grass trying to think of something to say that would break the silence. Steve just waits patiently with a lit cigarette burning out between his fingers for Billy to speak, listening intently when he finally says, “You know, s’a shame that I can’t take you to the prom after all that work we did for it.”

“Nah, prom’s way overrated.” Steve blows him off, not wanting him to feel bad about it, personally viewing the dance as stupid anyways, in a way sort of glad he doesn’t have to go, “It’s just a way to pay for new football uniforms and make kids who piqued in highschool feel good about themselves.”

But Billy doesn’t even laugh at that, flicking the head off a dandelion to keep his hands busy as he basically mumbles, “Guess you had time to think ‘bout it already.”

“Yeah. I guess I just always thought dances were kind of dumb. Now that I’m not King Steve anymore I just don’t really see a reason to bother with ‘em.” Steve explains, sliding his hand over to Billy’s across the tips of cool blades of grass, linking their pinkies together and leaning his head against his shoulder, soft touches like these the only way Billy could tell the difference between an open conversation and an argument.

“Still, think it’d be nice to be able to show you off. Let ‘em know what they’ve been missing.” Billy admits, a shy crack of a smile, like he was afraid to bring it up, and it makes Steve smile back, looking straight into the vulnerability behind his blue eyes and saying so softly it’s almost a whisper, “S’not necessary, B. I’m all yours.”

Billy pulls his hand away, a flush on his cheeks that wasn’t just from the warmth of the sun, overwhelmed by the affection just a bit, not uncomfortable with it, just not used to it, and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s, telling him, “God, you’re such a sap.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to take me to the prom.” Steve says, barely even defensive, making Billy smile again.

There’s a break in the conversation, both of them flustered and thinking about the other, until Steve interrupts the quiet this time, leaning back on his hands in the grass and suggesting, “We could do our own prom though, you know.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, we can’t do the real thing, obviously, but I don’t have any other plans tomorrow. You should drop by.”

“You’re really askin’ me to be your prom date?” Billy smirks, but the vulnerable hope in his eyes gives him away, and makes Steve’s heart flutter, though he replies nonchalant, “Who else? Be there at 8:30?”

“It’s a date. See you then, pretty boy.” Billy says with a smile, leaning in to kiss Steve, but getting interrupted by his watch beeping, their break time almost up already.

Steve chuckles and kisses his nose, and says, “Guess we better get back then.” waiting for Billy to leave first so his boyfriend had a head start to get into the school before him.

Billy throws a wink over his shoulder as he retreats towards the gym doors, and suddenly the weight of what they’d just agreed to settles with Steve.

Maybe this prom thing wasn’t as overrated as he thought, because did he ever feel over the moon right now, blushing like an idiot and just standing there dazedly until he hears the bell ring inside the building.

Apparently it showed too, that butterflies in his stomach feeling he had for the rest of the day, if the fact that Robin pulled him aside in the cafeteria for an emergency meeting about why he couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face was any indication.

He told her some lie, something about one of the teachers he got his makeup work off of cutting him some slack, and Robin doesn’t believe that, but she knows it’s none of her business, so she lets him keep smiling.

Still, as much as Steve was looking forward to this, at the end of the day when he waved at Billy from across the parking lot, he got nervous. Like, speeding back home to Loch Nora in under ten minutes on a normally fifteen minute drive nervous.

Because he still has a lot of shit to get done between now and tomorrow night when Billy is supposed to show up.

For one thing, his house is a disaster. He almost never cleans it until it’s too late, half-assing the dishes and overloading the washing machine and hiding things in closets usually the day before his parents were supposed to get back.

Another thing is how should he dress? He had a few fancy suits of his own from outings with his parents and past dances, but he knew Billy wouldn’t. Still, wouldn’t it be rude to underdress just because he assumed Billy would be too poor to clean up?

And what did people even do at prom? Get drunk and have sex? If Billy wanted to do that he would’ve just said so. How was Steve supposed to figure out what else they were going to do? The rest of prom is just bad dancing and even worse food, was that something he was supposed to include?

What if he’d sent the wrong signal in the first place and it wasn’t just going to be them? What if Billy showed up at his door with a bunch of other losers skipping out on prom night and this wasn’t really special at all?

The thing is, he knows he’s being irrational. Billy’s not the type to care about this stuff, and even if he did he wasn’t gonna like, break things off just because their little fake prom in Steve’s living room wasn’t perfect. That’s just ridiculous.

So he tries to redirect that initial panic into productivity. Get at least something planned out and put together before he freaks all the way out and loses his motivation.

He decides to do it in small parts, tonight he’d start with the cleaning and getting everything he already had together, and tomorrow would be for shopping and decorating.

Because he’s got such a scatterbrain, he makes a list of all the things he needed to get done before 8:30 tomorrow night, and already he feels the stress start to dissipate with each thing he gets to check off, the living room cleaned until Ruthie would approve, picking out a nice sweater he’d never worn before, fancy but not too much, and tracking down all the things he already had, a record player, the fancy wine Billy said he liked, and a couple of strings of fairy lights and tinsel.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he goes straight to Melvald’s, with the rest of his checklist to but candles, more decorations, a boutonnière, just to do it, and maybe something other than takeout to eat for once.

He must look as nervous as he feels, dumping his purchases on the counter, because Joyce smiles that understanding smile of hers, and asks him, “Last minute jitters before prom?”

“You could say that.” He responds breathily, trying to return the smile.

“Jonathan and Nancy decided not to go, but it sounds like it’ll be fun.” Joyce says with a nod, and Steve realizes he’s given her the wrong impression, explaining, “Oh, I’m not going to the real thing either, just hanging out with a friend tonight.”

“Well that sounds nice anyways.” She says, as she rings up his stuff remarking, “You must really like this friend to go all out like this.”

“Yeah he’s-“ Steve physically shakes his head, a reminder to stop talking before he gets himself caught, backpedaling with a shaky excuse, “I-I mean, it’s not like it’s a prom date , it’s just, you know, two guys hanging out.“

Joyce puts her hand on his, that same warm smile still on her face, and tells him, looking him right in the eye as if to say, ‘I know, but it’s okay’, “I’m happy for you, Steve. Have fun tonight.”

Steve nods, a flush to his cheeks as he leaves the store with not another word than, “I… Thank you Mrs. Byers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy knew absolutely jack and shit about school dances.

The first and only he’d ever been bothered to go to was way back in elementary school, and that didn’t exactly hold a candle to the fucking prom.

It helped some that it wasn’t the real thing, but Steve was talking like it might as well be, and quite frankly, he wanted it to be. This was going to be special goddamnit.

But before he can even think too much about it, he realizes none of that will matter if it turns out he can’t show, so he brings it up with his dad at dinner.

At the table is where he’s least likely to get beat if Neil said no, so that was always the time he chose to ask for things. “I know it’s, uh, kind of last minute ‘cause it’s tomorrow night, but could I go to the prom?”

Neil quirks an eyebrow, seeming mostly uninterested, “With who?”

“Nobody as a date.” Billy explains, using the cover story he’d been coming up with since the minute Steve asked him, or rather in anticipation of, “Heather has a spare ticket ‘cause her actual date ditched her last minute and she asked me if I would go with her.”

Neil nods, seemingly believing him, and asks, “When’s it start?”

“Uh, about 8, I think, so I’ll probably leave at like, 6:30 or so.” Billy throws it out nervously, tapping his fingers against the underside of the table, and freezing when Neil speaks.

But he doesn’t get yelled at, it’s just a simple, calm, “Susan, do we have anything planned that time tomorrow?”

“No, dear. Max is going with her friends at six, but other than that...” Comes her timid response without a hitch, and Billy already knows he’s in the clear before Neil gives his response, still not looking up from the table.

He agrees, but with a few conditions that Billy wouldn’t dare disobey, “If you drop your sister off first, you’ve got yourself a deal. Just don’t come home if you’re drunk, and don’t waste all my damned money on pictures.”

Billy nods, his heart racing in anticipation of something he was pretty sure at this point wasn’t going to happen, though some part of him was still waiting for the slap across the face and a never your mind as he says dutifully, “Yessir. Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Billy starts getting ready six hours early for two reasons: for one thing, the sooner he’s ready, the more time he had away from Neil and to psyche himself up to knock on Steve’s door, and for another, his hair on a normal day takes at least an hour if he doesn’t want it frizzing out or losing it’s curl or getting heavy, and this was his prom, he was willing to spend a whole day on his hair for the sake of looking nice, even if there were no pictures of it.

Of course Max, being the little nuisance she is, follows him to his bedroom when he goes to get ready, holding the door open with her foot so he couldn’t slam it in her face, and earning herself a grumbly, “What do you want, Maxine?”

“I thought you told me you weren’t going to the prom.” She says it like she caught him doing something wrong, as if plans couldn’t change, and it pisses Billy off a little bit.

“I’m not-“ He starts to explain, cutting himself off when somewhere in the house Neil pops the tab on a beer can, a tiny sound Max probably hadn’t even picked up on, but if his father was out and about in the house Billy doesn’t want to admit what he’s going to in front of him. He opens his door wider and ushers his step sister in, immediately shutting it behind her and finishing what he was saying,  “I’m not going to the prom.”

She quirks an eyebrow, through Billy’s eyes maybe looking a bit too much like her step-dad when she does it, “Why’d you tell Neil you were?”

“Crashing the after party. Thought it’d look better if I said I went.” He just shrugs, half assing the lie, and, picking up on that, Max fires back smugly, “You’re lying.”

Billy snaps, no longer looking at her while he starts lining his shit up on his makeshift vanity, getting ready to get ready, “Yeah, I am. But it’s really none of your business, shitbird.”

“Are you going on a date or something?” She looks at him knowingly, if not a little surprised, and asks as it dawns on her, “Oh my god, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Maxine Nicole!” He hisses through his teeth, turning to glare at her and seeing that she’s holding his hair spray that he literally just put out, probably planning on stealing it, “Jesus, give me that.”

She lets him snatch it out of her hands and puts it back in its spot on the vanity she told him didn’t count as a vanity multiple times, rolling her eyes, “Yeesh. I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“If you’re going to tell on me Max, I swear to god-“ He starts, defensive, more vulnerability in his voice than intended, but Max insists honestly, the most not bratty she’s been since she stepped into his room, “I’m not, I wouldn’t.”

Though it doesn’t last very long, her not being a brat, because she immediately cracks a big smile and asks Billy, “Who is he though?”

“Mind your own, Max, Christ.” Billy blows her off, catching glimpse of himself in the mirror and taking note of the barely there flush to his cheeks, pointing to the door and telling his meddling step sister, “Out.”

“Awww, Billy-“ She tries to whine, but he cuts her off, “ No. Out. Of. My. Room.”

But Max offers quickly, like it’ll change his mind, “I’ll do your hair if you let me stay.”

And maybe it doesn’t immediately change his mind, but it does successfully stump him, because he’s asking her, equal parts genuine curiosity and sarcasm, “Why would I let you touch my hair?”

“No reason.” Max says, looking down at his carpet, definitely overplaying the bashfulness in bringing up her answer to appeal to Billy’s emotions, “I just thought, and maybe it’s stupid but like, most guys have their moms to fuss over them for prom, but, you know, you don’t, so I wanted to, I don’t know, be a good sister and do that for you or, whatever.“

Billy sighs, that had been exactly what he was thinking about all night last night, how his momma would be proud of him for finding a way to do this with the person, the boy he loved, and how she could’ve been there to do exactly what Max said, so he agrees, “Alright shitbird, guilt trip successful. You’re not kicked out.”

Max claps her hands together and sits on her brother's bed, getting all of Billy’s wrinkled button ups tossed at her from where they had been previously shoved, unfolded into a dresser drawer, and a command to, “Help me pick a shirt.”

She asks him while she’s unfolding all of his shirts he’d thrown at her and spreading them all out over Billy’s bed, “Are you going to button it.”

“What do you think?”

“Billy. It’s your prom.”

“Fine. One more button.”

“Two?” She tries to bargain, but he shuts it down again, making her giggle when he jokes, his tone level like it's a real threat, “One or I‘m going shirtless.”

“Then I pick.. this blue one.” Max says and puts her hand on a navy blue, quarter sleeve shirt after careful consideration of holding each button up up to Billy and thinking hard about it, but one more once over and she changes her mind, handing Billy a white shirt with snap buttons instead, “No, no, no, wait, this one with full sleeves is better. Yeah, that one for sure.”

“Sleeves it is.” Billy says taking the shirt and hanging it on the door so he’d remember to iron it, crudely shoving the rest of the button ups back into the drawer, and asking Max, “Will I need to wear like, a coat or something?”

She shrugs asking him smugly, “That depends on who it is.”

“Sensitive information.” Billy says immediately, when she looks like she’s going to argue shutting her down before she can say anything, “Which means I’m not tellin’ you.”

“Can I guess?” Max asks, making her case by reasoning with him sweetly, “Please? You wouldn’t be telling me that way.”

He genuinely considers it for a minute, and decides it’s whatever, in his head assuming there was no way Max would be able to figure it out, so he waves his hand with an eye roll, giving her the go ahead to start guessing.

Her first question is, “Okay, okay. Is it.. someone I know?”

“Yep.”

Max furrows her brow, and asks, “Do I like him?” To which Billy shrugs and responds, “Probably.”

“Um, is it…” Max snaps her fingers, an idea coming to her, “Is it Tommy?”

But again she’s shut down, because for somebody she’s supposed to probably like, she sure does a lot of complaining about Tommy, and he calls her on it, “Do you like Tommy?”

Max hums thoughtfully, taking a second guess, “I guess not. Is it Keith?”

Billy shakes his head, giving her the most confused look she’d ever seen on his face as he asks, or basically exclaims, “Who the fuck is Keith ?”

“Well excuuse me for not knowing a lot of guys around here!” Max says, defensive, making Billy roll his eyes again and turn back to digging through his drawers for a decent pair of jeans to wear with a button up, most of them stained and worn.

“Not Tommy, not Keith, who’s left?” She thinks hard then gasps, connecting something in her mind, a devious, knowing little smile on her face, “Is it Steve?”

Billy doesn’t answer her, quite frankly doesn’t know what he should say. It’s his fault, letting her guess between the only three boys his age in town she apparently knew, but now that Max knew who his mystery boyfriend was he wasn’t feeling so hot.

Honestly, some part of him is expecting Neil to come busting through the door any second, like this was some sort of run around way of finding him out, but after a few minutes of her squealing like teenage girls do, he realizes all he has to face is an excited little sister.

He flushes, and asks her over his shoulder, his forcing his tone to sound bored, “Are you done?”

“Yes.” Max says, nodding, but she smiles wide and dissolves into a fit of giggles again, covering her mouth with her hands when Billy crosses his arms, and insists, “Okay, okay, I’m done!”

“Good.” Billy says, but he can’t help cracking a smile. He angles his mirror down towards the floor and sits in front of it, telling his sister lightly to, “Help me with my hair then, shitbird.”

Max sits behind him, and runs her fingers through his hair, “You should’ve put curlers in it or something last night.”

Billy rolls his eyes, realizing as he does so for the dozen things time since Max barged in that she maybe learned that from him, deciding that doesn’t even warrant a response, and hands Max the comb and one of the many cans of hairspray off of his vanity.

She sits up on her knees, and brushes back the hairs just behind his ears that always frizz out and lose their curl, holding them at the back of his hair with a bobby pin, one of the blond ones she bought specifically for him so he could use them without immediately getting caught using ‘girly’ things, but had so far been too scared to anyways.

It looks strange on him, looks more like something Max would wear than him, but honestly he doesn’t hate it, so he lets her keep going, only frowning a little when she adds a pearl adorned hair clip, big enough it looks more like a fancy brooch, to the back of his hair.

She sprays it with so much hairspray it’s tacky, scrunching it up so his curls are tighter, and smoothing the sides so they won’t come unclipped.

When every curl is in its place and approved by Billy, who insists he’s not in the least bit emotional about what Max had said early, that thing about having nobody but her to fuss over him, she hops up, telling him to, “Wait one minute.” while she runs to her room.

She returns with her bulky pink Caboodles box, the one that has all of her mostly unused makeup in it, tapping him on the shoulder and telling him, “Alright, turn towards me.”

Her plan didn’t work though, at least he’s almost positive it was her plan to break down his defenses just so she could use him as her dress up doll anyways, but he isn’t having it, telling her quickly to “Put that shit away, Max.”

“Why? You wear makeup everyday.” Max observes simply, making Billy hiss and tell her to lower her voice, “Yeah, but never the extra strength shit that makes your eyelashes curly and your face pretty. Neil will sniff this out the second I step out of this room.”

Max just shrugs, “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t see your face. It’s not a big deal.”

“He’ll make it into one.”

“I think your senior prom is an even bigger deal, though.”

Billy sighs, once again losing to her arguing skill, and turning to face her like she told him, “You owe me if I get caught like this.”

Max rolls her eyes and does her magic, each second that passes Billy regretting agreeing to turning the control of his appearance over to his little sister, expecting to come out of this looking like her Diva doll, fidgeting more and more the longer it takes her.

Just before he’s about to panic, Max tells him, “All done.” and lets him look in the mirror.

He blinks repeatedly at his own reflection, surprised to see he didn’t have sparkly eyeshadow up to his eyebrows or rouge on his cheeks, just a tasteful amount of lip gloss and a copper tint to his eyelids, framed by darker than usual eyelashes and the smallest bit of eyeliner.

She gets impatient after a few minutes of Billy not saying anything, and pushes his shoulders to turn him around again to look at her, staring at him until she decides what she thinks is missing.

She hurries to the upright jewelry box in her mother’s room, and brings him back a clip on pearl earring for his right ear, opposite the chain of silver stars she already picked for his left.

“Here, it’ll look better if you have earrings in both ears.” She reaches up, pushing his hair out of the way and clipping the earring on, letting him do the screw on the back himself so she didn’t make it too tight.

Billy lowers his hand and scrunches his nose, leaning in slightly towards the mirror, “They don’t match.”

“It looks nice though. You look really pretty.” She tells him honestly, not realizing the impact the simple compliment, though not so simple for somebody like him, has on her brother until he’s trying to subtly blink away tears behind mascara coated lashes, pretending like that wasn’t the case and telling her, “Whatever, it’s too late to change it now if you want to be on time.”

He does one last once over himself in the mirror, though he knows he’s going to be using his car windows for the same purpose at the last minute, and shoos Max out of his bedroom door, trying to hurry out of the house before Neil can stop him and see him all dolled up.

He’s got one hand around the door knob and his keys through his belt loop when his dad does stop him, his heart just about stopping as Neil calls from the other room, “Do you have flowers for the girl?”

“I have a corsage in the car.” Billy lies, hoping his tone is sure enough for Neil to buy it.

“Good. Just remember what I said, boy.” Neil says, still from the living room, so Billy lets his posture relax a bit and breathes out a quiet sight, saying casually, “Get Max to her friends, don’t spend any money, and don’t come home drunk, I got it, dad.”

“Watch the attitude, William.” Neil says low, the air going still for a minute until he adds, “And have fun tonight.”

“Yessir.” Billy says, ushering Max quickly out the front door, sighing when it closes behind them.

~~~~~~~

Billy drops Max off at the Wheeler’s, just driving around Hawkins until it’s time to show up at Steve’s, making sure to stop past the Holloway’s place just in case Neil went asking around wanting to know if anybody saw his car in the neighborhood.

At 8, he decides he doesn’t want to show up empty handed, buying Steve some flowers like he’d lied and said he had for Heather from Melvald’s, not understanding the knowing look the cashier lady has in her eye when he brings a dinky bouquet of flowers to the checkout counter.

He rings the doorbell at 8:30 on the dot, checking himself out one last time in Steve’s window while he waits, fifty cent roses held behind his back.

On the other side of the door, Steve stands in the dining room, now adorned with cheap party decorations that would’ve made his mother pitch a fit, waiting a whole thirty seconds before he goes to answer it, trying to collect himself first.

Billy smiles wide, and, as cheesy as it was, seeing him standing there all dressed up taking Steve’s breath away and stealing the words right off his tongue, Billy having to invite himself in because Steve was busy catching flies.

He hands him the flowers, nodding towards the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister, the stars hanging in the archway that lead into the living room that were almost identical to the ones they hung from the basketball hoops at school and saying, “Place looks nice.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Steve says, quickly adding, “You know, you look nice too.”

Billy smiles softly, looking at him with that ‘you’re an idiot Steve Harrington’ look he was so used to by now, “C’mon, Stevie, we’ve been dating for four months now, you don’t gotta be all awkward with me still.”

“I’m not, I mean it, you look really good, Billy.” Steve says, smiling now that it’s his turn to fluster Billy.

“Oh by the way, I almost forgot. Got you this just because.” He remembers, handing Billy a box with a floral pin inside, pink roses with lace, and telling him expectantly, “It’s a boutonnière.”

But Billy doesn't open it, just raises an eyebrow and says, “I thought you did corsages for prom?”

“Corsages are for the girls.”

“Ah. Got it.” He says it like he already knew that, like he was hoping maybe Steve didn’t, so Steve offers, not really understanding it, but knowing what he means all the same, “It came as a set, I still have the corsage upstairs, if you want it.”

Billy nods and pins the boutonnière to Steve’s shirt instead, explaining simply, “Just so we match.”

Steve runs upstairs and gets the corsage, giving Billy a minute to actually appreciate just how much went into decorating this place, snickering to himself when he imagines Steve having to stand on a step ladder to put the string lights so high up on the wall.

Steve tosses Billy the box from the top of the steps, letting him open it while he comes back down and ties it around his wrist, having to tie it twice because he put it on the wrong way the first time.

Billy asks him, shaking his wrist to make sure the bow is tight enough, “So what’s our official plan for tonight, Stevie?”

“Honestly I don’t really know. I’m sort of just winging it here, I don’t know what you even do at prom.”

“You never went at all?” Billy asks, surprised miss priss hadn’t dragged him along to their junior prom last year.

“Nope. Like I said, overrated.” Steve confirms, and Billy smiles wide, saying, “I’m sure I got a few ideas in mind then.”

~~~~~~~~

Billy’s idea basically consisted mainly of drinking all that fancy wine Steve had gotten out of the cellar specifically for this, shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat, and complaining about the real prom happening up at the school.

Honestly, Steve suspects things wouldn’t have been so different had they actually gone, but he can tell the fact that they weren’t able to go was still bothering Billy, judging by the sheer number of times he brings it up.

After what must be the tenth time that night Billy brought up Heather and Robin getting to go, Steve asks him, “Do you wish we were there?”

“No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t give a damn less about the whole dance, a thousand times over I’d rather just be here with you.”

“But?”

“But I wish we had the choice to go, you know? It’s just, bugging me that if we had genuinely wanted to go, we couldn’t’ve.” Billy rants, very obviously having been holding this in, “And I keep thinking about all the other gay kids who don’t have a big empty house or a safe place to do what we’re doin’.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a big deal. Prom is pretty much all for the parents anyways, and the way I see it we, and all the other people like us, we’re so used to disappointing them, what’s it matter if we don’t go?”

“Just, I don’t care about the event or whatever, but it feels like we’re missing out on something. Like maybe we should’ve just swallowed our pride and went with Hetty and Robin anyways.”

Steve stands up abruptly, picking up their wine glasses and kicking the coffee table all the way over to the far wall to clear the floor, offering Billy his hand, “I know you feel like you’re robbing me of something by us not going, but we don’t need all of that for this to be good. I meant it when I said that’s superficial to me anyways. We can make it mean something to us.”

Billy looks up at him, still bothered deep down, but out of ways to argue about it, and accepts Steve’s hand, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck when he pulls him close by his waist.

It’s not really a slow dance as much as it is an excuse to just be close to one another, to breathe each other in and sneak kisses and be sappy, but that’s was this whole thing was about. They could’ve just hung out tonight if they wanted, and honestly they probably would’ve anyways, but they called it a prom, put that title to it that made both of their hearts pitapat.

Steve had always heard, even felt it a few times before, that when you were with the person you loved, everyone and everything else would melt away around you until it was just you, but somehow, this was different than that.

Because that would mean there were times when his world didn’t revolve around Billy, and that there was ever a moment when he could focus on anything but the boy he loved, and that just wasn’t true.

This wasn’t performative, wasn’t a relationship formed on the status of being able to show off that they were better for being in love either, this was simply Billy and Steve, dancing in their tennis shoes on Ruthie's carpet, snickering when a particularly sappy song came on the radio, barely able to be separated long enough to turn to side B, falling in love all over again under the stars.

~~~~~~~

When the wine bottles are all empty and the stack of records has been spun through, Steve’s schnockered, and insisting they get a picture, searching the house for an old Polaroid camera and making Billy stand with him in front of the fairy lights strung

They only had three chances to get a good picture, no new packs of film and only a few left in the camera, so Steve took all three.

The first one was upside down and so off center he was hardly in it, Steve being maybe a little more drunk than he thought, and the second Billy closed his eyes because the flash was too bright, but it didn’t matter too much anyways because the film didn’t develop properly and the picture was nothing but reddish-yellow tinted blackness anyways.

The third one by some chance turns out fine, maybe a little blurred because he moved and still not quite centered right, but it’s a picture, something to hold onto the memory of this night forever when the hangover wore off and things got a little blurry, and that was important to the both of them, for different reasons.

As soon as it develops, a little 8 by 10 of Billy kissing his cheek, Steve runs upstairs to hang it on the cork board above his desk before it gets misplaced, dating it and doodling a little heart with a S+B inside it, hiding the picture behind a ribbon for a middle school art contest and a picture of him and his parents.

Billy hooks his chin over his shoulder, his hands traveling a bit lower than Steve’s waist this time as he watches what he’s doing. He hums and asks, when Steve stands up straighter and turns in his arms to face him, “So? What have you got planned for the after prom, Stevie?”

[maddie-grove]

My Vision for the Ominous Babysitters Club

Based on this post.

Kristy Thomas makes a decisive move in founding the Babysitters Club, then continues to amass power, assets, and allies for most of the series (as well as sworn enemies). In #100: Kristy’s Downfall, she overplays her hand and is toppled from her position of power. She spends the last thirty-one books clawing her way back to the top, embittered and more tyrannical than ever.

Mary Anne Spier is a sensitive soul, more vulnerable than the rest of the club to demonic possession, life-changing encounters with eldritch beings, and the accidental acquisition of psychic abilities. Her false lover, low-level wizard Logan Bruno, senses her potential powers and jealously tries to keep her down through gaslighting. (Notable examples include his kidnapping of her cat, Tigger, and an incident where he swapped out two of her babysitting charges with eggs enchanted to look like real children.) After she gains confidence by getting a cute new haircut, she gets the upper hand in their relationship. She soon sees through his small-minded manipulations, but decides to keep him around...for now. She grows equally weary of Kristy’s authoritarian ways, leading her to mount an explosive counter-attack in #131: The Fire at Mary Anne’s House.

Claudia Kishi seems like a carefree, creative, junk-food-loving teenager, but in reality she’s a hostage to terrifying forces beyond her control. Her parents sometimes coldly refer to her as “the subject,” her older sister Janine is a sorceress of astounding talent and uncertain morals, and her old friend Kristy Thomas has threatened her into joining the BSC and letting the club meet in her room three times a week. Her only true friend is her grandmother, Mimi...until jaded city girl Stacey McGill arrives in Stoneybrook. Claudia tends to bury her head in the sand about the more uncanny aspects of her life, instead focusing on her art and more immediate threats, such as serial killers and murderous children. She’s forced to reckon with the supernatural, though, when she descends into hell in #106: Claudia, Queen of the Underworld. With the help of Janine, her eventual ally, she soon rejoins the living and embraces hedonism.

Stacey McGill flees a troubled past in New York City, only to become enmeshed in the byzantine schemes of the BSC in an attempt to help her new friend Claudia. As the series progresses, Stacey becomes more and more convinced that Kristy must be taken down, but her moral misgivings (as well as her string of dysfunctional romances, troubled relationship with her divorced parents, and struggles to manage her Type 1 diabetes) keep her from ever making a decisive move. In #83: Stacey Defects, she openly speaks out against Kristy and leaves the BSC. When life on the outside proves cold and purposeless, she hatches a scheme to ingratiate herself with Kristy again and bring her down for good. Her arc ends on an ambiguous scene in which she quietly enjoys some “cookies sweetened with fruit juice,” leading some readers to speculate that Kristy had her assassinated. 

Dawn Schafer was originally conceived as a horror-movie Final Girl, a stalwart everyteen who defended her charges from Stoneybrook’s more prosaic villains (kidnappers, obscene phone callers, and a couple of masked murderers); she was meant to serve as a contrast to her eventual stepsister, the ethereal and insecure Mary Anne. As the series progressed, though, Ominous Ann M. Martin and her spooky ghostwriters ended up using Dawn whenever they wanted to try out cool new ideas. Although the results are often fascinating, the consistency of Dawn’s character suffers; however, some readers argue that Dawn’s unstable characterization is a deliberate choice that contributes to the uncanniness of the series. Her books can be split into roughly four types: straightforward slashers (#5: Where Are the Children, Dawn?); psychological horror with strong feminist/environmental/political themes (#84: Dawn on the Blacklist); creepy California-set stories with lots of drug imagery, macabre Hollywood history, and cameos from serial killers (#23: Dawn and the False Promise of the Golden West); and books that are completely dominated by Mary Anne (#31: Dawn’s Eldritch Stepsister). In one of the most optimistic books in the series, Dawn finally moves to California for good to escape Kristy’s influence and live that Francesca Lia Block life; less satisfyingly, she temporarily returns several books later, in an obvious attempt to get readers to check out the Ominous California Diaries, in which Dawn becomes an amateur sleuth who focuses on serial murders.

Mallory Pike is a combination Byronic-Kafkaesque heroine, simultaneously convinced that she is too brilliantly unconventional for normal society and that God personally despises her. She constantly rails against her cruel fate, which includes constant drudgery as the eldest of eight children, intermittent money troubles, the vicious snobbery and contempt of her peers, debilitating illness, encounters with the surveillance state, and the suspicion that she’s a talentless hack. Even when dealing with malevolent clones or a cursed book, the true horror of a Mallory book is always being Mallory. In #126: Never Look Back, Mallory, however, she breaks away from the oppressive environs of Stoneybrook to attend boarding school. Although she is terrorized and vilified by a duplicitous roommate, her problems are solved fairly quickly with the help of sympathetic classmates and reasonable adults. In her final scene, Mallory sits on her bed, beginning to question her long-held assumption that she is both destined for greatness and bound for hell.

Jessi Ramsey is a Faustian figure, always thirsting after glory and forbidden knowledge. Already a talented ballet dancer, she makes deals with various gods, demons, and other supernatural creatures to learn how to decipher runes, talk to animals, turn base metals into gold, commune with spirits, revenge herself upon her enemies, and fly. Her powers come in handy at her dance school in New York City, which is extremely cursed and haunted. Despite her towering ambitions, she is fairly easygoing, even managing to make friends with her sinister doppelgänger Jenni in #68: Jessi and the Shadow-Self. Towards the end of the series, she is faced with the choice of becoming a professional ballet dancer or obtaining the ability to turn herself into a beautiful Arabian horse at will (she is also a horse girl). She makes the mature decision to turn down both opportunities for the time being, instead opting to be a kid and experiment with necromancy, time-travel, fun doppelgänger pranks, and discussing equine literature with her best friend Mallory. In the short-lived Ominous Friends Forever series, though, she becomes a ballerina and (it is heavily implied) a were-horse, in part due to Mallory’s defection.

Abby Stevenson was introduced as an eleventh-hour interloper who switches between unhinged, corny-joke-filled attempts to turn Kristy’s life into chaos (much like the Joker in The Dark Knight) and unhinged, corny-joke-filled attempts to charm Kristy into being her girlfriend so they can be a terrifying power couple. Unlike with Dawn, her dual nature was a deliberate narrative choice; many later Ominous BSC books contain subplots that are just other club members wondering aloud what Abby’s deal is. Abby’s own books don’t shed much light on her motivations; she seems more preoccupied with ordinary adolescent concerns, like her upcoming bat mitzvah and her fraught relationship with her cryptic twin Anna (who only speaks in palindrome). Her last book, #127: The Twilight of Abby Stevenson, is a surprisingly sweet coming-of-age romance in which she and Kristy drop their hostilities and go to the movies on Valentine’s Day. Their relationship ultimately falls apart, though, thanks to Kristy’s unquenchable thirst for revenge on her enemies. Abby breaks up with her and gets really into David Lynch.

Logan Bruno is a low-level wizard who comes from the swamp and hates his father. As an alternate officer for the club, he sometimes babysits.

Shannon Kilbourne, the other alternate officer, is something of a blank, but she’s heavily implied to be a lost Dollanganger of some sort.

[sushireads]

taehyung fic recs

this is a list of taehyung fics i’ve read and loved very much! enjoy. <3

ps. all fics with 🍙 are the ones i loved a little bit more.

Actually, The Devil Wears Gucci by @yandere-society​ / @chinkbihh​

one shot | 6.7K words

You had always thought that ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ was an over exaggeration of what a boss/assistant relationship could be.  

Until you met Mr. Kim.

Meryl Streep as a boss would’ve been an angel compared to the monster who signed your paychecks now.

ASSISTANT, CEO, YANDERE au

Akrasia by @nitaescence​

smut | one shot | 3K words

(¬‿¬ ) basically two strangers fucking in a crowded bus

STRANGERS au

Candyman by @lthyl​

horror, angst | one shot | 10.8K words

There’s a shop, hidden deep in the streets of Seoul, that every night opens its doors only to the ones who need it the most. There, the Candyman lives, waiting for you to buy dreams of silver and gold.

⤷ or: sweet nightmares are coming for you.

ego: hoe chronicles by @suga-kookiemonster​

smut | one shot | 4.3K words

he stepped closer again, and though the hairs at the back of your neck rose in warning, you didn’t move back, allowing him to negate the space between you. merely craning your head so that you could look him solidly in the eye. “looks like you still don’t understand who you’re talking to,” he murmured. “should i teach you?”

—an alternate universe of ego

COLLEGE, FRAT BOY, FUCK BOY au

la la land (AO3 Link) by @hoseokiehopie​ 

🍙, smut, humor, fluff | series

Taehyung Kim is one of the hottest up-and-coming stars in Hollywood, breaking barriers and snagging top titles in the film industry. After watching interviews featuring his charming personality and seeing his stunning face on modeling campaigns, you have to admit he intrigues you. When he’s casted as the romantic lead in your movie, you can’t deny your excitement at the chance of getting to work with him. That is until you have a mishap on day one of shooting and realize that pretty face and charming personality is really all an act.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, FAKE DATING, HOLLYWOOD ACTOR au

love is the warmest colour by @honeymoonjin​

fluff, angst, smut | one shot | 13.7K words

still bitter about a scandal that ruined your painting career, you’re recommended a getaway by your therapist to a small island off the coast of seoul. expecting a tranquil location to wallow in self-pity, you’re startled when on your first night, you encounter an avid fan of your work. instead of annoying you for an autograph, kim taehyung ends up being the very thing you need to fall in love with art again.

ARTIST, FAN BOY au

Marigolds by @peekaboongi​ 

fluff, angst | one shot | 4.4K words

Your meeting with famous actor Kim Taehyung was no coincidence, and you find that your destinies are intertwined too intricately to ever escape your fates.

↳ alternatively late night car rides and conversations with Taehyung.

muse by @suga-kookiemonster​

smut, fluff | drabble | 2.5K words

this could finally be tae’s big break, but he’s nervous and struggling to find inspiration. luckily, you’re willing to support him in all ways necessary.

ARTIST au

Reincarnate by @yandere-society​ / @chimchimsauce​

horror | one shot | 7K words

‘Taehyung hates his immortal life, rueing the day Namjoon blessed him with eternity. But now, a hundred years later, he stumbles across someone who he— who they— want to keep forever.’

VAMPIRE au

Sanitarium by @lthyl​

angst | series

The government hired you to cure Kim Taehyung from his madness, yet, every time you see him in that damn white room you lose sanity and yourself a bit more.

HARLEY QUINN au

See you by @gimmesumsuga​​ 

smut | two shots

The one where Taehyung notices you at a concert, and can’t help but want to see you again.

IDOL au

SHELTER by @btssmutgalore​​

angst, smut, fluff | one shot | 22.5K words

Taehyung’s always been a best friend, which is why you think he’s the right person to ask for help when it comes to relationships.

BEST FRIEND au

Snapped (AO3) by @kpopyandere​​

ON-GOING | angst, smut | ? | 6.3K words

Your relationship hasn't been going well lately. Taehyung decides to take advantage of this.

TWINS, YANDERE au

The Holi-Date by @kpopfanfictrash​​

🍙, fluff, smut | one shot | 40.5K words

When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning.

ARTIST, CHRISTMAS, FAKE DATING, NEIGHBOURS au

the universe of us. by @taesthetes​​

🍙, fluff, angst, fantasy | one shot | 21.1K words

nefelibata : (noun) lit. “cloud-walker”; the one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams

The story of Icarus tells of a naive being who loved the sun and flew too close, leading to his untimely descent into the ocean. But what the tale didn’t speak of was how the sun and the moon fell in love with him, too. And with the pull of the tides due to the attraction of the sun and the moon, he tosses and turns, torn between two entities.

So if Kim Taehyung embodies the sun, then Jeon Jungkook is the moon.

And you are Icarus.

DREAM, SLICE OF DREAM au

upstream colour by @honeymoonjin​​

smut, angst | one shot | 22.7K words

Escaping to Venice for a break from your strenuous job was meant to be simple. Go there, decompress for two weeks, and return feeling invigorated. But the soulful gondolier you meet on the docks in Saint Mark’s Square has you wanting to never leave at all.

—part of BTS Smut Club's Open for Business collaboration

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[cardest]

London playlist

London - since 43 AD it has to be one of the more fascinating cities on Earth. Such a rich history. From Shakespeare Theatre to the music from there today. I just had to put a London playlist together. From Soho to Brixton, from Highgate to Clapham  what a collection of songs! It’s over 350 songs and it could easily expand to 400. **I have a separate England & Wales playlist coming, so, stay tuned for that**.

To play the songs, hit the link right here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_ntP663JhZl-hvn9EwFp9L

ENGLAND & WALES playlist is coming soon! What songs have I left out? Let me know! Add your own songs! Cheers. Pip pip, tally ho!

LONDON 001 Generation X -  Day By Day 002 The Clash - London Calling 003 Austin Powers  - theme song (Soul Bossa? Nova ) 004 The Kinks - Dedicated Follower Of Fashion 005 Killing Joke - Empire Song 006 Black Sabbath - Wicked World 007 The Who - Welcome 008 The Damned - Neat, neat, neat 009 GIRLSCHOOL - LONDON 010 007 theme song 011 Motorhead - Motorhead 012 Wire - Ex Lion Tamer 013 David Bowie - Maid of Bond Street 014 The Misfits - London Dungeon 015 Rolling Stones - 016 The Adverts - Bored Teenagers 017 Siouxsie & The Banshees -  Spellbound 018 Penny Dreadful - Soundtrack - Main Theme 019 Eurythmics - Love Is A Stranger 020 The Cure - Subway Song 021 Adam And The Ants -  Puss 'n' Boots 022 Iron Maiden - 22 Acacia Avenue 023 COIL - Fire of the mind 024 Public Image Ltd - One Drop. 025 LUSH - Breeze 026 Bliss Signal - Surge 027 The Pogues - Misty Morning, Albert Bridge 028 PhD - Won't Let You Down 029 Birthday Party - Hats On Wrong 030 Eddy Grant - Electric Avenue 031 Help Yourself - Reaffirmation 032 Grave Miasma - Gnosis of the summon 033 Roy Ayers - We Live In London Baby 034 Led Zeppelin - The Rover 035 Gang of Four - What we all want 036 Pet Shop Boys - West End Girl                 037 Sleaford Mods - 6 Horsemen (The Brixtons) 038 Paul Young - Love of the Common People 039 The Saint (original) - Theme 040 The Human League - Dont You Want Me 041 Sex Pistols - God Save The Queen 042 The Beatles - A Day In The Life 043 Def Leppard -  Love bites 044 The Stranglers - Another Camden Afternoon 045 The Kinks  - See My Friends 046 Elton John - Bennie and the Jets 047 Suede - Moving 048 Queen - Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy 049 Cliff Richard & the Shadows - She's Gone 050 The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up 051 Loop - Fade Out 052 Jah Wobble's Invaders Of The Heart - A13 053 The Magnetic Fields - All the Umbrellas in London 054 Wendy Carlos - Title Music From A Clockwork Orange (From Purcell's Music For The Funeral Of Queen Mary) 055 The Police - Every Little Thing she does it Magic 056 Cockney Rejects - The Greatest Cockney Rip Off 057 Spandau Ballet - Spandau Ballet Chant No.1 058 The Pretenders - Middle of the Road 059 The Who - Dogs 060 The Jam - London Girl 061 Cradle of Filth - Hurt and Virtue 062 Joy Division - Isolation 063 Nick Drake - At the Chime of a City Clock 064 Sham 69 - Cockney Kids Are Innocent 065 Deep Purple - Mandrake Root 066 Throbbing Gristle - Hit by a rock 067 David Bowie - Rubber Band 068 Roxy Music  - Do The Strand 069 Slaves - Cheer Up London 070 T. Rex - London Boys 071 Kirsty MacColl - Autumngirlsoup 072 New Model Army - Archway Towers 073 Scorpions - Lovedrive 074 Isaac Hayes - Doesnt Rain In London 075 Peter Tosh - Buk-In-Hamm Palace 076 The Slits - Typical Girls 077 Pharaoh Sanders - Midnight In Berkeley Square (Instrumental) 078 Blue Cheer - Girl From London 079 Sex Pistols - Satellite 080 Judas Priest - (The Hellion ) Electric Eye 081 UFO -  Lights Out 082 Joy Division - Digital 083 Muse - Uprising 084 George Harrison - All Things Must Pass 085 Robert Palmer - Addicted To Love 086 Fine Young Cannibals - Blue 087 New Order - Blue Monday 088 Würzel - Midnight In London 089 Rod Stewart - Gasoline Alley 090 The Wildhearts - Down On London 091 Supertramp - Nothing To Show 092 Motörhead - Metropolis 093 Current 93 - Lucifer Over London 094 The Pogues - Dark Streets of London 095 The Cult - All Souls Avenue 096 The Jam - In The City 097 The Undertones - Teenage Kicks 098 Iggy Pop -  Play It Safe 099 Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Jack the Ripper 100 The Cure  - Lets Go To Bed 101 Suede - Animal Nitrate 102 Wire - field day for the sundays 103 Black Books  TV Show - Opening Theme 104 Paul McCartney & Wings - London Town 105 Madness - Primrose Hill 106 The Troggs  - No. 10 Downing Street 107 Iron Maiden -  Gangland 108 PJ Harvey - The Last Living Rose 109 The Rollers - Soho 110 Electric Wizard - Lucifer's Slaves 111 The Buzzcocks -  Just Lust 112 Doctor Who Theme Tune 1980 113 Cathedral - Fountain Of Innocence 114 Pretenders - Swinging London 115 Hanoi Rocks - Tooting Bec Wreck 116 Es - 'Chemical 117 Bee Gees  - Trafalgar 118 The Peddlers    - Under London Lights 119 Cliff Richard - The Young Ones 120 Big Audio Dynamite - Sightsee M.C   121 ABC - Tower of London 122 Accept - London Leatherboys 123 Pitchshifter - Please Sir 124 Portishead -  We Carry On 125 John Lennon - Whatever Gets You Thru The Night 126 The Lurkers - Ain't Got a Clue 127 Iron Maiden - Die with your boots on 128 Siouxsie and the Banshees - Kiss Them For Me 129 Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - From Her to Eternity 130 The Jam - London Traffic 131 The Cranberries - Waiting In Walthamstow 132 The Kinks - Victoria 133 Heads Hands & Feet - Pete Might Spook The Horses 134 Whitesnake -  Long Way From Home 135 Queensryche - London 136 Concrete Blonde - Walking in London 137 Deep Purple - Fireball 138 The Ruts - dope for guns 139 Wham! - Bad Boys 140 Generation X - One Hundred Punks 141 Joe Jackson - Down To London 142 Anti-Nowhere League - Streets of London 143 The Wildhearts - Shandy Bang 144 David Bowie - The London Boys 145 The Human League - Human 146 Cockney Rejects - East end 147 Dire Straits - Eastbound Train 148 Ian Drury - Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick 149 Sepultura -  Filthy rot 150 The Jam - Down In The Tube Station At Midnight 151 Fine Young Cannibals - She Drives Me Crazy 152 Purson -  Electric Landlady 153 Black Sabbath -  Tomorrow's Dream 154 The Clash - Guns of Brixton 155 Blood Ceremony - Lord Of Misrule 156 Monty Pythons The Meaning of Life - Penis Song 157 Gentlemans Pistols -  Hustler's Row 158 Frankie Goes To Hollywood - Relax 159 Jethro Tull - Cross Eyed Mary 160 The Yobs - The Ballad of the Warrington 161 Cradle of Filth - Principle Of Evil Made Flesh 162 Bruce Hornsby - The Black Rats Of London 163 Inspiral Carpets - How It Should Be 164 The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Foxy Lady 165 PETULA CLARK - WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL 166 Lush - Olympia 167 Hunters & Collectors - Blind Eye 168 Thompson Twins - Hold Me Now 169 David Bowie - The Man Who Sold the World 170 UK Subs - C.I.D. 171 Queen - Dont Stop Me Now 172 Bruce Dickinson - Accident of Birth 173 the clash - capital radio one 174 UB40 - Here I Am (Come And Take Me) 175 The Meads Of Asphodel - Guts For Sale 176 Horrible Histories: Savage Songs - Boudicca 177 Swallow the Sun - Labyrinth Of London (Horror Pt. IV) 178 Mad Professor  - Ben Gone Wrong 179 Howard Jones - Things Can Only Get Better 180 Genesis - The Battle Of Epping Forest 181 The Damned -  problem child 182 Squeeze  - Cool For Cats 183 Manfred Mann - Belgravia 184 The Bee Gees - Walking Back to Waterloo 185 Pink Floyd - Waiting For The Worms 186 Madness - Victoria Gardens 187 Paradise Lost - Soul Courageons 188 YES  - Roundabout 189 PJ Harvey - This Is Love 190 The Horrors - Jack The Ripper 191 King Crimson - Red 192 The Smiths - How Soon Is Now 193 Level 42 - Heathrow 194 Intaferon - Get Out Of London 195 Burt Bacharach - Bond street 196 David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust 197 The Clash - Londons Burning 198 Killing Joke - Follow The Leaders 199 Saxon - The Court of the Crimson King 200 Buzzcocks - Harmony in My Head 201 Fairport Convention - Fiddlesticks (Peel Session) 202 Napalm Death - Errors In The Signals 203 Empire  - Hot Seat 204 Anathema - Shroud of Frost 205 Pitchshifter - Condescension 206 The Beatles - Hey Jude 207 Affinity - Highgate 208 KLF - 3 A.M. Eternal (Pure Trance) 209 Warren Zevon - Werewolves of London 210 David Axelrod - London 211 The Wombles - Wellington Goes To Waterloo 212 EastEnders Theme 213 Cathedral - Hypnos 164 214 Tom Jones - It's Not Unusual 215 Alan Moore with Tim Perkins - The Highbury Working A Beat Seance 216 Transvision Vamp - Sex Kick 217 Elton John - Tell Me When The Whistle Blows 218 Firebird - Bow bells 219 The Jam - A' Bomb In Wardour Street 220 Caravan  - Waterloo Lily 221 Lord Sutch & Heavy Friends - Flashing Lights 222 David Bowie - Oh! You Pretty Things 223 Hot Chocolate - West End of Park Lane 224 Thames television ident 1984 225 Newtown Neurotics - Living With Unemployment 226 Peter Murphy - Cuts You Up 227 Suede - Metal Mickey 228 Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer 229 Killing Joke - The Gathering 230 Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want 231 Kate Bush - Babooshka 232 Iron Maiden - The Prophecy 233 The Cure - Disintegration 234 The Damned - I Just Can't Be Happy Today 235 WIRE - Silk Skin Paws 236 Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets 237 Souixee & the Banshees - Cascade 238 Jethro Tull - Jeffrey Goes to Leicester Square 239 AC/DC -  Rising Power 240 Alternative TV - Life After Life 241 Napalm Death - Deceiver (Peel Sessions) 242 Electric Light Orchestra - Last Train To London 243 Bucks Fizz - London Town 244 The Sweet - Blockbuster! 245 999 - Bent Cross 246 The Groundhogs - Split, Pt. 1 247 Bow Wow Wow - Go Wild in the Country 248 Blood Ceremony -  Half Moon Street 249 Ming Tea feat. Austin Powers - BBC One 250 Led Zeppelin - Immigrant Song 251 Big Audio Dynamite - EMC2 252 Crass - Banned from the Roxy 253 Sleaford Mods - Chaos Down In SoHo 254 Big Ben Chimes of Westminster, London 255 PJ Harvey - A Place Called Home 256 The Ruts - Staring at the rude boys 257 The Times - Whatever Happened To Thames Beat 258 Quincy Jones - London Derriere 259 Lush - Hypocrite 260 PIL - Reggie Song 261 The Style Council - You're The Best Thing 262 UK Subs - Dirty Girls 263 COIL - Slur 264 Frank Zappa - Dead girls of London 265 Iron Maiden - Prowler 266 The Slits - Difficult Fun 267 Killing Joke -  Kings and Queens 268 Simple Minds - Chelsea Girl 269 Motorhead - Bomber 270 XTC - Towers Of London 271 Blitzkrieg  - Hell to pay 272 Gryphon - Opening Move 273 The Challengers - The Streets of London 274 Peggy March - In Der Carnaby Street 275 The Damned - Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde 276 The Pogues - London You're a Lady 277 The Lords Of The New Church - Portobello 278 Rolling Stones - Hot Stuff 279 Joe Jackson - The Evil Eye 280 The Deviants - Garbage 281 Benny Hill Show  - Wild Women 282 Suzi Quatro - Crash 283 Madness - day on the town 284 SHAKESPEAR'S SISTER -  I Don't Care 285 Whitesnake - Wine Women An Song 286 Pink Floyd - Astronomy Domine 287 Rick Astley - Whenever You Need Somebody 288 Bauhaus - In the flat field 289 Dead Can Dance - In Power We Entrust The Love Advocated 290 Paul McCartney -  Old Siam, Sir 291 Lush - De-Luxe 292 AC/DC - let's get it up 293 Sophia Loren & Peter Sellers - Bangers and mash 294 Black Sabbath - Childfren of the grave 295 Psychic TV - The orchids 296 Miracle - The Strife Of Love In A Dream 297 Carter USM - Lean On Me I Won't Fall Over 298 Screaming Lord Sutch - Jack the Ripper 299 WIRE - the 15th 300 Mott the Hoople - Honaloochie Boogie 301 Soft Machine - The Camden Tandem 302 Are You Being Served Theme 303 CATHEDRAL - Serpent Eve 304 Booker T. & The MG's - Carnaby Street 305 Culture Club - It's A Miracle 306 Motorhead - Nothing Up My Sleeve 307 Killing Joke - Money is not our God 308 Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy 309 WIRE - Please take 310 Bananarama - Hey young London 311 The Jam - Carnaby Street 312 Catapilla - Charing Cross   313 The Shadows - Chelsea Boot 314 Ride - Chelsea Girl 315 The Damned  - Grimly Fiendish 316 Marillion - Chelsea Monday 317 Slowdive - Celia's Dream 318 The Clash - Gates of the west 319 Thin Lizzy - Half Caste 320 David Bowie -  I dig everything 321  VUUR - Days Go By - London 322 Elvis Costello - [I Don't Want To Go To] Chelsea 323 Uriah Heep - Walking in your shadow 324 Genesis - Invisible Touch 325 Amy Winehouse - Me & Mr Jones 326 Curve - Fait Accompli   327 Silverfish ‎- Crazy 328 Iron Maiden - Killers 329 Killing Joke -  Ghost Of Ladbroke Grove 330 Sex Pistols - Anarchy In The UK 331 Paradise lost - remembrance 332 The Fall - Leave the Capitol 333 The Kinks - Waterloo Sunset 334 WIRE - Keep exhaling 335 The Peddlers - raining in London 336 Motorhead - damage case 337 10cc - Shock On The Tube (Don't Want Love) 338 Swervedriver - Rave Down 339 Spike Milligan - Tower Bridge 340 Phil Lynott - Solo In Soho 341 Adam and the Ants - Plastic Surgery 342 The Who - Pinball wizard 343 Pulp - Mile end 344 Generation X - Running with the Boss Sound 345 OMD - If You Leave 346 PiL - Public Image 347 Monty Python's Flying Circus TV show - theme song 348 Hall & Oates - London, Luck & Love 349 The Horrors - Three decades 350 Cathedral - Midnight Mountain 351 Killing Joke - glitch 352 Judas Priest - The Ripper 353 Air Raid Siren London Blitz 354 Dragonforce - Fury and the storm 355 Elastica - Connection 356 the Psychedelic Furs - Dumb waiters 357 Samantha Fox - Touch me 358 Wang Chung - Dance hall days 359 Kim Wilde - Water on glass 360 Siouxsie and the Banshees - Overground 361 Atomic Rooster - Tomorrow night 362 Fleetwood Mac - My Heart Beat Like a Hammer 363 Rainbow - Self Portrait 364 Billy Ocean - Love really hurts without you 365 Art of Noise - Beat box (division one) 366 Eurythmics - Never Gonna Cry Again 367 Samson - Grime Crime 368 Go West - we close our eyes 369 Ultravox - Saturday Night In The City Of The Dead 370 King Crimson - 21st Century Schizoid Man 371 Visage - Visage 372 Sandy Denny - Let's Jump The Broomstick 373 Brian Eno - Burning Airlines Give You So Much More 374 Fields Of The Nephilim - Blue water 375 Leftfield - Open Up 376 Blancmange - I've Seen The Word 377 Thomas Dolby - Flying north 378 Sisters of Mercy - Temple of love 379 Royal Orchestra - Royal Entrance Queen Elizabeth II 380 Pink Floyd - Goodbye blue sky 666 David Bowie -  London Bye Ta - Ta 

Play the songs here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_ntP663JhZl-hvn9EwFp9L

[arianajbb]

FIC RECS - 2

💕 stay by @you-are-my-sanctuary

A road trip to Arizona goes wrong when you catch the attention of a familiar looking dark haired man with steely blue eyes.

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💕 Tell Him, Not Me by @zsiopao

here y/n l/n lands a role in a new television series that will put her relationship to the test.

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💕Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

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💕 What Could’ve Been by @you-are-my-sanctuary

Steve stays in the past when returning the stones, leaving you behind and erasing everything you two were to each other. Decades pass and he wonders if he made the right decision. Especially since the memories of you still lingers in his mind years after.

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💕  Let Your Spirit Fly by @starlightcrystalline

At the end of a long week, all you want is to get home. Fate has other ideas.

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💕 painted with bruises by @harryspet

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

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💕 Wolf, Partner, Gloves... by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

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💕 Sleeping With A Friend by @wkemeup

You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.

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💕 An Unpredictable Reunion by @head-always-up-in-a-dreamworld

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💕 American Boy by @quarantined-with-bucky

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

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💕 Uptown Girl by @brooklyns-boys

You’re a spoiled, shallow party girl who enjoys pushing any button you can find. When your parents put their foot down, giving you the choice between marrying a suitor of their choosing, or being cut off from your money, you’ll have to decide between luxury and the only person who’s ever given a damn about you.

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💕 pictures of girls by @subtlebucky

you’re prepared for a fun-filled weekend with a friend you haven’t seen in a while. instead, you get a weekend with the guy who sort of rejected you and a camera. what could go wrong?

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💕 don’t forget to sing by @sunmoonandbucky

You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  An alley is six feet apart, right?

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💕 bloody by @buckycuddlebuddy

he looked feral; his eyes black, face contorted in something devilish, lips blood red and shiny and the smirk on his face was promising more than he already had given.

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💕 Home by @softlybarnes

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

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💕 Kiss Me Better by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky has your heart, but he seems to despise you. Loki comes up with a plan to make him realize just what he’s missing.

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💕 x by @blissfullylostinarabbithole

Bucky receiving his first piece of fan-mail.

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💕 My Roommate’s Boyfriend by @angstysebfan

Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

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💕 life with tiny and beefy by @wiensrsoldier

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💕 Safe Place To Land by @sunlightdances

You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem.

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💕 A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts.

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💕 we’re up all night to get lucky by  @nsfwsebbie

Your soldier comes home after his prevailing victory.

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💕 Jealousy Looks Good On You by @tinymalscoffee

You go to your favorite coffee shop after your date from the morning before never shows up.

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💕 x by @sinner-as-saint

uni!seb having a thing for boobies.

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💕 Everything by @mariessecretfantasies

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💕 Stardust And Starfish by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

“Hey we kissed once in kindergarten but I haven’t seen you since and I couldn’t remember why you were so familiar.”

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💕 The Flaw Of Belief by @winterdaybreak

Y/N and Bucky fight over who can be more spiteful, who hates who more. Neither really mean it, but Bucky might just win.

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💕 dear... whoever by @whistlingwillows

a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

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💕 starring role by @baezen

in which Hollywood’s former hottest movie star faces his biggest challenge yet – proving that he’s still worth the starring role

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💕 Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by @cherrypickertheory

You and your husband, Bucky, live a normal life in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. Or you did, that is, until you both realize that the other is a spy.

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💕 kitten by @buckycuddlebuddy

“you know,” bucky started, voice low and raspy. “i think i have spoiled you too much lately.”

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💕 Summer Days by @sleepypanda27

You meet a handsome stranger at the beach.

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💕 Power Over Me by @sinner-as-saint

CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

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💕 Bucky & the Beast by @thejamesoldier

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💕 House Pride by @delusionalwriterr

After encountering Bucky during a Quidditch game, both of you grow attached to each other. But is the attraction enough to overcome the disapproval of your brother, Tony, and the messy past between your families?

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💕 Meet Me In The Hallway by @yikeswtfmate

Y/N and Bucky have hated each other since they were children and now they’re forced to live together, whether they like it or not.

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💕 Postcards by @sebbytrash

Takes place after Civil War. Bucky is your best friend but of course you’re in love with him. He goes off to travel the world and rediscover himself, sending you Postcards along the way, whilst you struggle with your feelings.

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💕 x by @moteldwelling

(this isn’t a fic but it’s amazing omg)

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💕 Helpless by @prongsies

Sirius loved you. Loved you enough to let you go. Loved you enough to selflessly step back, allowing you to love someone he knows could give you the love you deserved - even if it hurts.

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💕 What Is, And What Should Never Be by @whoisbxcky

You wake up one morning to find yourself in an alternate reality, in which the Avengers never came to be, and your friends are living perfect civilian lives. However, things are not all they appear to be, and you find yourself facing the worst fear you never knew you had.

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💕 Impaled by @revengingbarnes

You’ve been pining after Bucky for months. A compromising situation during a mission brings you a lot closer to him than you expected.

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💕 Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky

A blind date has lead you and Bucky to the fourth date. Each one proving that you’ve got it bad more than prior and it doesn’t quite matter what will happen - you will keep on falling for that handsome devil and you don’t even mind.

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💕 Flowers by @bucky-the-thigh-slayer

Love can take a while, but the right love is always worth time, and some old fashioned gestures.

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💕 The (not naked) pin-up calendar by @bitsandbobsandstuff

When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

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💕 Rogue Angel by @harryspet

Bucky tasks himself with deprogramming you, a former hydra soldier. Will he be able to show he cares for you as his Daddy or will your training stop you from seeing the truth.

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💕 Saving The Day by @jbbmoved

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

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💕 Hidden Lagoons and Seashells by @after-avenging-hours

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💕 my heart, my angel by @paintedface

valentine’s day candy grams basically show how popular you are in the school, so you expect to get none, however, one, extremely sweet one, turns up on your desk. except you have no clue who it’s from.

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💕 Like Silver Glass by @thejamesoldier

Out of all the things you have seen so far in your life – a colorful plethora of alien species, artificial intelligence, an imaginative array of mutants and their abilities, cyborgs, superhumans, assassins, geniuses, etc. – merpeople fell actually pretty low on your ‘Shocking Things That Exist’ list.

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💕 Holiday Heist by @avengerofyourheart

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.

[gayenerd]

An interview with music journalist Paul Zollo. I believe this is from 2000. I’m a sucker for Billie Joe talking about his songwriting process.

By PAUL ZOLLO

SEVEN STORIES ABOVE THE SUNSET STRIP in Hollywood is the Chateau Marmont, an old hotel rife with the ghosts and scandals of Hollywood’s recent and not-so-recent past. Famous for the elegant, old-world discretion it affords all its guests, for decades it’s been a safe harbor for stars seeking to circumvent the squall of media surveillance. It’s where John Belushi died, sadly, back in bungalow three, and where Jim Morrison wrecked his back by swinging Tarzan-like from the roof, using a drain pipe as a vine. Every star, it seems, from Chaplin and Bogart to Dylan and Lennon have hidden out here while in Hollywood. “If you must get in trouble, do it at the Chateau Marmont,” Harry Cohn, the first boss of Columbia Studios, once told William Holden.

So it’s an appropriate setting for Billie Joe Armstrong, the lead singer, songwriter and guitarist of Green Day, to be holding court. Armstrong and the band are no strangers to scandal – they’re the ones who started a mudfight that bordered on insurrection at Woodstock II; they’ve been outspoken about their fondness for drugs and alcohol; they’ve been especially harsh in their expressions of scorn for many other bands; and they’ve frequently “redecorated” hotel suites, bars and Tower Records stores alike with a flair for creative demolition that brings to mind the heady decadence of the Doors and others.

           In fact, parallels between Armstrong and Jim Morrison abound. Like the leader of the Doors, Billie Joe is the creative catalyst of his group, but only writes within the fold of his fellow musicians. Like Morrison, Armstrong has been known to walk on the razor’s edge of life, bringing an authentic, expansive passion to every song he sings. He’s also been known to match his inclination to strip his soul bare in song by taking off his clothes in concert. The difference is that when Jim Morrison did it, all hell broke loose, the country was shocked and the singer was arrested. But when Billie Joe does it, he gets acknowledged on the MTV news, Kurt Loder smirks, and that’s about that. Being shocking these days is just not like it used to be.

‘It’s something unpredictable,

But in the end is right

I hope you had the time of your life.”

From “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)”

By GREEN DAY

           Few things seemed more unpredictable than the thought that Green Day would have a Number One hit with a pretty ballad of all things. Even more unlikely would be that the song, officially entitled “Good Riddance” but better known as “Time Of Your Life,” would become as ubiquitous in the American consciousness as the Star Wars theme. Used on “Seinfeld,” two episodes of “E.R.,” and extraneous sporting events (as when Mark MacGuire became the king of baseball’s home-run derby), Green Day’s ballad quickly became more famous than Green Day itself.

           “Good Riddance” now stands alongside Springsteen’s “Born In The USA”, Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.” and Sting’s “Every Breath You Take,” as one of the nation’s most misappropriated hit singles. Like all of those songs, which are much darker if you examine their core than the mainstream ever seemed to recognize, “Good Riddance” actually comes closer to condemnation than the kind of nostalgic celebration for which it’s been used:

“Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial

For what it’s worth, it was worth all the while

I hope you had the time of your life. “

From “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)”

By GREEN DAY

Though Green Day’s presence on the world stage shifted from popular to astronomical because of this song, many of their old fans felt alienated by their secret heroes’ injection into the mainstream. “[`Time of Your Life’] was a drastic change for us to record,” Billie Joe said. “We knew that there were going to be some people that weren’t going to like it because it’s not a 1-2-3-4-Let’s-go-punk-rock tune. Mike [Dirnt] said, `This is a real beautiful song, who cares what people think?’ So we just went for it. Long term thinking, you know. Punk is not just the sound, the music. Punk is a life-style. We’re just as much punk as we used to be.”

           Of course, definitions flow fast and fluid, as purveyors of punk, such as Armstrong, play along the borders of pop. “A lot of punk rock bands are always trying to be so hard all of the time,” he said. “Macho brutality doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a good songwriter. I think that some of the Beatles’ songs are way more punk rock than most punk songs written today. Like the song `Yesterday.’ It’s such a bittersweet song. “

           Billie Joe was born in 1972 and grew up in Rodeo, a little Californian town just outside of Berkeley. His father and uncle were both jazz drummers. “I was a guitarist in a house of drummers,” he said. His father died when he was ten, the same year he met a neighbor named Mike Pritchard who shared his passion for making music. Together they decided to drop out of high school to start a band, which they called Sweet Children. It was a decision Billie’s mother encouraged. “My mom sort of let me do whatever I wanted,” he said. “When I quit school, she thought that was a good idea because I was really ambitious to play. So I started touring when I was seventeen.”

Pritchard changed his name to Mike Dirnt, Tre Cool replaced Al Sobrante as official drummer, and they called themselves Green Day, a Bay-area euphemism for a day spent smoking pot. Their first release was an indie EP called 1000 Hours, after which they signed with Lookout Records to make 39/Smooth and Kerplunk. In 1994 they ascended to the major leagues, signing with Reprise, and released Dookie. They soon  became an MTV mainstay, and their mudstorm performance that year at Woodstock cemented their reputation as a band on the edge. Three more singles followed, as did sales of more than eight million albums worldwide, and a Grammy Award for Best Alternative Music Performance.

           Insomniac was released in the fall of ’95, but instead of going on a European tour as planned to launch it, they elected instead to stay home and write and record more songs. The result was the most popular, and most critically acclaimed album of their career, Nimrod, which included “Time Of Your Life.”

Warning was the new album at the time of this interview, and the impetus for Billie to talk. Inspired by the rich lyricism of Springsteen’s The River and Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home, Green Day went away for a while to write and play the songs before recording them. It’s their first self-produced and most sonically adventurous album to date, blending layers of acoustic guitars in with the electrics, and with some unexpected detours, such as the German beer-hall stomp of “Misery,” and the Clash-meets-Kinks pop-punk of the title song.

“Caution police sign you’d better not cross

Is the cop or am I the one that’s really dangerous?

Sanitation expiration date question everything

Or shut up and be a victim of authority

Warning, live without warning…”

From “Warning”

By GREEN DAY

Today Billie Joe is ensconced within an overstuffed burgundy couch in his hotel suite. Although he’s drinking coffee from china cups, and eating fresh fruit and croissants from a silver tray, he’s remained loyal to the punk lifestyle, and is wearing a black t-shirt and baggy jeans. Prior to our talk, rather than linger in the luxury of his suite, he ducked down into the hotel’s bleak back stairway for a cigarette. Though he’s undeniably a star of the first degree, he’s uncomfortable with such designations, and shuns all the trappings of stardom. As opposed to the Ferraris and Lamborghinis driven by his peers, an old Ford Fairlane remains his vehicle of choice. He did admit to one extravagance, however, which he revealed somewhat sheepishly. “As soon as I could afford it,” he confessed, “I went out and had it primered.”

BLUERAILROAD: You write all the songs together in the band. Do you start songs on your own and bring them in?

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Yeah, sometimes. I’ll come up with the song with the chord changes and the lyrics, and then I bring them into practice, and then we sort of restructure them together. I like to come in with a tune. I’ll just play guitar and sing it for them, and then we start to learn it. And as soon as we start to learn it, we can make changes and come up with a different structure. Move the chorus around, make the verse a little longer. That kind of thing. I definitely like to think of it as a collaboration between the three of us.

           Do you always change the songs?

Well, we have a lot of songs. There have been some that I have brought in and nothing really needs to be done. Sometimes I’ll suggest a part that needs to be worked with, and we’ll try some different things. And then they’ll write their bass-lines and drum parts around it.

           Do you ever have a problem sharing credit on songs you wrote alone?

Well, we’re a band. We’ve been able to stick through a lot of years because the three of us support each other. The songs come from Green Day, and I like to stick by that. We like to just keep things equal in the band, and I think it’s what has made our band healthy over the years. We give each other respect. There is no one who stands out more than the other one in this group. Especially since we’ve known each other for so long.

           These days do you write on electric guitar?

No, on acoustic. I have a Silverine Harmony. But it sounds good. I just have it around the house, so I’ve written most of the songs on it.

           Do those songs then shift a lot when you bring them to the band, and play them on electric?

No, because I always have it in the back of my head about the dynamics of electric guitar and drums and bass. Between me and Mike and Tre, I always have that dynamic in my head – what am I going to bring to the table that they’re going to be able to play, and which will have our certain energy. I always keep our energy and our music in mind, sort of subconsciously. But I think that’s the beauty of this. That not only can I play these songs with a band at full volume, but also that I can play them on a cheap, acoustic guitar. And it can have the same kind of impact.

           “Warning” would work that way.

Yeah, it does. That kind of came all together at the same time. I think lyrics on this record were really important to me, and to have a well-rounded record as far as what kind of topics I wanted to write about, and sing about. That was one of those songs that seemed to just write itself. It just came really naturally.

           Is that unusual for you, the feeling that a song writes itself?

Well, I try to go for inspired moments. But if I want to write a song that sounds like it has a pop kind of edge to it, I really want to be able to say something. I have to say something – it’s vital for me. I can’t just write something that would be sugar-coated, and have a pop song with nice lyrics that go along with what everyone is doing on the radio these days. It’s very important for me to have a message that goes along with the writing. So, you know, what comes to mind for me is a song like “The Ballad of John & Yoko,” where [Lennon] had this really nice sounding song. But the lyrics penetrate like a knife. “They’re gonna crucify me…” That’s kind of nice way — nice, I mean, in an oxymoronic sense – to put forward something you want to attack.

           You’ve done that in many songs.

Yeah, I think it adds a sort of demented side a little bit, sort of like a clown in a circus. But it also makes the lyrics a lot stronger. If you take a band like Rage Against The Machine, the music is aggressive, and the lyrics are aggressive at the same time. And I love Rage Against The Machine, but sometimes it feels like you getting bombarded by someone’s else’s point of view. The person is not telling you to think, but what to think. And that’s one thing that I really wanted to come across in the music and the lyrics. To think about the world around you, and not what to think, so to speak. And at the same time, to have my opinions coming through at the same time.

           Are you always clear about the meaning of a song while writing?

No. That’s hard. I mean, sometimes I’ll have things in the back of my head that I want to write about. But I never want to come across as pretentious or preachy. So I just wait for my thoughts to settle. To a certain extent, you have to be a little self-righteous and I think it’s healthy. Especially when, nowadays, there’s so much stuff that is about decadence. And when it comes to rebellion, a guy who has a Rolex watch and is driving around in a Porsche, talking about that he really wants something to break, I don’t really think of that as rebellion, I think of that just as a decadent rock star.

           Do you have any kind of routine for songwriting?

Last record I was just sort of pounding songs. Anytime I had any inkling of an idea of anything at all, I would just grab my guitar and play it and work on it no matter what the song was like. Whether it was inspired or I just got drunk and started playing. But this time I waited for inspired moments. And I think it took me a long time just because of that. I wanted everything to sound refreshing, and something that would make you want to turn it up a little more.

           Did you have times when you tried to work and nothing would come?

Oh yeah. You get frustrated. You feel, “Man, I just want to write a fucking song.” And sometimes it’s just not there. And you can’t dwell on that when that happens. You have to just let it go.

I don’t ever want to try to outdo myself. I feel like if you try to outdo yourself from the last thing, instead of just working on your inspiration, I think the music kind of suffers a little bit, sometimes. Sometimes I’ll just get a very general idea about the kind of song I want to write. And I’ll just sort of store it in the back of my mind and see what comes out. It can come out in five minutes, it can come out in five days, five years, five decades.

           Are there songs you worked on for years?

Yeah. “Longview” was one that we worked on for years. We knew what we wanted to write about. I told Mike to write a bass line and one day I came home. This is when we lived in the same house. He had just dropped some acid (laughs) and he said, “Listen to this.” And I said, “Okay, I guess it sounds good.” He came up with this bass line that really worked well, so we ended up practicing and came up with the song.

           Are there many songs you start that you don’t finish?

Yes. And I’ll just wait for the right time and the right place for it. There are some songs I finish but then I think it’s not right for the record we’re working on. There’s a couple of songs like that off of Nimrod. “Time of My Life” had been written a couple of years before.

           That song resounded in enormously with the public. Was it just a fluke, or did you sit down with the intention of writing that kind of song?

Both. I think that anyone can sit down and write a song. Whether or not it’s any good is another thing altogether. You know, there’s no school you can go to that will help you learn how to become a songwriter. But you can sit down and do it. Especially with rock & roll. But to put something down that is actually really great, it does go beyond you a little bit, and sometimes it takes patience.

           Do you write all the time?

Yeah. Whether it’s good or bad, I don’t know. Or if it’s appropriate for what kind of idea or sound that we want to get across on the record.

           Where do you think the great songs come from?

I don’t know. I really don’t. It comes from somewhere deep down inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. It’s kind of like seeing a shrink or something. (Laughs) There can be a lot of anger, or sadness, or joy, that you had but you didn’t even know you really had – but it can all come out. You feel a connection with it, and so other people can, too. You strike a nerve.

           Does songwriting get easier the more you do it?

I think so. I think you definitely learn more as you go. I think you find new ways to motivate yourself. You test yourself a little bit more and see what comes about. And you challenge yourself in new ways to see what comes out. You learn new ways to get the engines going. But whether or not it does get easier, it’s what I do. And I love doing it.

[smoochkooks]

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst 

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed. 

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

 May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

 Park Jimin

 Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

[heavy-lobster]

POST THE FUCKING ESSAY KOAL/DUSTY I SWEAR TO GOD

WAIT I THOUGHT YOU READ IT ALREADY??? DID I SERIOUSLY NOT SEND IT TO YOU WHEN I INITIALLY FINISHED IT??? GOD WHAT THE FUCK

Well I can’t NOT post it now.

So for some background, the assignment was to write a short essay arguing as to why a children’s series of our choosing could be classified as horror, based on some article we had to read. I chose Wow Wow Wubbzy because I thought it would be funny and. man. So anyways this is VERY poorly written because I did most of it between like,,, midnight and 3 am. It’s very ranty and way longer than it needed to be. For ease of reading I went back and fixed up the shitty formatting and fixed a few spelling errors, as well as linking my sources.

So uhhh this is about horror so,, warning for horror ig?? It’s not scary like, at all, but better safe than sorry.

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!: The Horror Within

Introduction

“Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!” is an American TV show originally aired on Nick Jr. From the mind of Bob Boyle, this educational kid’s show was very memorable for a lot of kids growing up at that time. The show features Wubbzy, a yellow, square, animalistic character, with a curly, “springy” tail; as well as Wubbzy’s various friends. Most episodes feature Wubbzy and his pals, Widget and Walden (as well as Daizy in later episodes), dealing with an every day situation, or well, depends on your definition of “every day”. The situation spirals out of control because of the actions of various characters, and it is resolved by the problematic character of the episode learning a lesson and fixing their mistake. Seems like a typical kids show, right? Well, there may be more to it than that. What if I told you that Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! could be interrupted as a horror show about horrifically mutated beasts struggling to survive the post apocalyptic world they are forced to inhabit? Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! fits many categories described in Sharon A. Russell’s literary criticism in “What is the Horror Genre?”. In this essay we will discuss how Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! could possibly be classified as a horror series.  

Asking the real questions; what is everyone?

First of all, a very important question. What exactly are the characters? There are claims that Wubbzy himself is some kind of gerbil, but frankly I don’t see it. Also, what’s the deal with the inhabitants of Wuzzleburg in general? Wubbzy and his friends are supposed to be anthropomorphic animals, but they seem more like horrific monsters, mutated from normal animals. Monsters are a very common and important element in horror. Not all monsters are vicious killers, and not all of them are obvious in appearance. Some monsters are small and cute, but it’s almost always a facade. 

There are also some “regular” animals running around, but yet they aren’t “normal” by any stretch of the imagination. Some are very obviously not normal, others seem mostly normal. “Flutterflies” are a common, non-anthro animal seen in Wubbzy, with their most prominent appearance being in the episode “The Flight of the Flutterfly”. Flutterflies seem like normal butterflies, but why are they called “Flutterflies” instead? Are they in any way different to the butterflies of our world, or is that just what the inhabitants of Wuzzleburg call butterflies? What about the more blatantly odd non-anthro animals? In “Attack of the 50 Foot Fleegle” Wubbzy acquires a pet “Fleegle”. It appears to be a small, purple, almost hamster like creature. It remains small and happy if you feed it the right kind of food, but Wubbzy foolishly feeds it candy and sweets. When fed candy, the Fleegle increases in size in increasingly large increments. After a time, it becomes so big that it rampages all over Wuzzleburg. The only thing that could shrink it back to normal size was carrot juice. When fed bologna, they multiply, and the solution to this is unknown, as the episode ends there and this is never brought up again. 

There are plenty of strange animals, both anthropomorphic and not; yet no humans. Not a single human character in sight. This begs the question, what happened? Why are all these animals how they are? What happened to the humans? Obviously, these questions were never answered, as this is a kids show. Here is a thought to consider: what if all the humans are dead, and all the characters are mutant abominations, or, monsters as they’d more fittingly be called. Humans have been wiped out, and the animals who survived mutated in many different ways. Some animals became intelligent, and capable of building their own society similar to what once was our own. That society is what we know as Wuzzleburg. In conclusion, all the creatures seen in the show are the result of something terrible; mutated abominations passing as animals. This fits the “monster” category of horror as described in Russell’s article.

What’s the deal with Wuzzleburg?

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! takes place in the fictional town of Wuzzleburg. Wuzzleburg and its surrounding locations look very odd. Everything is unnaturally geometric. Everything- from houses to trees- is very odd in appearance. Tree branches are often bendy, always at a right angle, with the edges being smooth and rounded. In Wuzzleburg, many houses look like completely normal houses, yet Wubbzy lives in a tree house. Another common thing is that houses and buildings of importance are usually designed based on a specific object. Daizy’s house, for example, is shaped like a flower. 

Outside of Wuzzleburg, the locations only get weirder. There is an island, shown to be somewhere off the coast of Wuzzleburg, called “Dino Island”. As the name suggests, this island is inhabited by dinosaurs. So apparently, dinosaurs are not extinct in this universe; at least on this island. As far as other towns go, there is Wuzzlewood, clearly based on Hollywood, where all the biggest celebrities in the Wubbzy cinematic universe (WCU) live. Everything in Wuzzlewood is covered in stars, a clever spin of the celebrity theme. Another interesting location is Plaidville. In Plaidville, everything is plaid; the trees, the ground, and even the inhabitants. I don’t have to explain what is unnatural about that. 

Now, back on the topic of Wuzzleburg, since it is the main location seen in the show, and is where Wubbzy and his friends live. It has been stated that Wuzzleburg was founded in 1853 by “Heinrich van Wuzzle”. The specific year being given is an odd detail, that you wouldn’t normally expect in a show of this nature. Wuzzleburg is clearly a town in every sense of the word. It has plenty of stores and restaurants, an airport, houses, residents, a mayor, a rich history, annual festivities, reliable transportation, schools, and even a stable economy. All of this being made by what we have already established as horrific monsters. That’s impressive. There is common debate in the Wubbzy fandom on whether these locations are in a parallel universe, or perhaps if they exist on our Earth. In the episode “Fly Us To The Moon”, the place where they land back on “Earth” appears to suggest that Wuzzleburg is located somewhere in or near Washington state, in America, or possibly somewhere in British Columbia. 

My theory is that the events of Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! takes place on Earth, but certainly not our Earth. An alternate Earth, where humans may have lived before. Some horrible nuclear accident wiped out all human life, and caused all the animals to mutate into the many strange creatures of the WCU. This also explains the unnatural features of the setting. Post-apocalyptic Earth? Sounds like a perfect horror setting to me. This fits perfectly with the criteria described in Sharon’s article.

The beast within; Wubbzy’s true villain

Finally, the matter of the deep internal conflict hidden deep within the show. In the show, you can expect every episode to have a lesson or moral, as many kids shows do. Most episodes feature one of the main characters (almost always Wubbzy) making a mistake, followed by them learning the lesson of the episode and using their newfound knowledge to make things right. What if I told you that this is sign of a much deeper internal conflict going on far beneath the character’s cute exterior? Would it be so far fetched to believe that every episode is focused on the anthropomorphic abominations struggling to fight against their beastly instincts? Their own organized and civilized society goes against their very nature, and they constantly fight to uphold the standards they set; both for themselves, and each other. It's a constantly uphill climb. Wubbzy is undeniably a flawed character. He messes up constantly, often learning the same lessons over and over again, as if it’s more of a reminder than a lesson. It’s Wubbzy against himself. This fits Sharon’s criteria of internal horror, but that’s not all. 

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is also the story of a quest for self improvement, as well as a good vs evil scenario, which are two of Russell’s other criteria. I mean, think about it. Every character is open to self improvement once they realize the harm they’ve caused. Every character is on their own quest, seeking to better themselves. Every character is going through their own internal battle. They fight their own flaws. Their own evils. The true villain of Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is the evil within all of them, the beastly instincts lurking within all of Wuzzleberg’s monster inhabitants. And they may not always be perfect, maybe they don’t know how to be “good”, maybe being good just isn’t in their nature; but they try their best despite all the challenges, to be better, and improve themselves. 

In that way I think we can all relate to them. We aren’t always “good”, we aren’t perfect, sometimes we don’t know how to do the “right” thing, but our flaws are what make us human. It may not be in our nature to be flawless, but it is in our nature to seek self improvement, and that’s what Wubbzy is really about. The struggles we all go through to be better people, because inside? We’re all just monsters trying our best to be civil, and conform to our moral code. And really? That’s enough. 

Conclusion 

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is undeniably a kid’s show at heart, but if you really stop to analyze it, you find a much darker horror series. It would be fittingly classified as a psychological horror. It fits almost all of Sharon A. Russell’s criteria as described in the article “What is the Horror Genre?”. What is Wubbzy? In fact, what are all of the show’s characters? Their vaguely animal appearance appeal to young children, but I believe that they may actually be normal animals mutated into horrible monsters. Freaks of nature created by a nuclear incident. There is not a single human seen in the show, but plenty of abnormal creatures. This suggests that we are long gone. The monsters we left behind built their own society.

 Not only were the animals affected, but also the earth itself. The odd nature of the setting supports my nuclear devastation theory. Finally, is the true conflict of Wubbzy. The show itself is about nuclear monsters trying their best to adapt to the society they built for themselves, even if it goes against their own nature. It’s beasts on a quest where the only objective is the betterment of the self. An internal conflict. There is no physical villain in the show. The only antagonist out to get Wubbzy, is Wubbzy himself. In that way, I think we can all relate. In conclusion, Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is actually about horribly mutated animals fighting their inner demons, on a metaphorical journey to be better than they are. For that very reason, I believe it could be interrupted as a horror series. 

Sources: 

Wubbzy Wikipedia page

Wubbzy Fandom Wiki, which I did NOT know existed before this project and honestly the comments on the page were the funniest fucking thing, I highly recommend it

And uhhh various episodes of Wubbzy I had to watch

I apologize for my crimes

[redshirtgal]

Carey Foster was the subject of an earlier Redshirt article.  In case you do not remember, she was the tall young lady in “The Alternate Factor” who grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down with Charlene Masters in the recreation room. In the article we revealed that her real name is Emmy Lou Crawford and that she has appeared on a number of other TV shows and movies. If you need to refresh your memory, the link is below.

However, since that article appeared, we have chatted with Emmy Lou Crawford herself and learned some fascinating new information. So hang in there please while we give you an update on what we missed the first time. And we have saved a very special surprise for the end. 

(https://www.facebook.com/talesoftheunknownredshirt/posts/228037360560149)

Once I posted the article, it caught the attention of  her daughter, Mary Crawford Wilson, who then asked her mother to comment on various photos. This was a pleasant first for me - an actor who had appeared on several TOS episodes being willing to interact with me and the other readers. During this interchange, we learned that Emmy Lou Crawford would have been in The Cage if her scene hadn’t been deleted. As luck would have it, the pieces of film not being used were cut up into separate pieces and sold separately. However, when a reader posted this photo of Gene Roddenberry standing beside one of the serving girls, Emmy Lou confirmed the girl with him was indeed her. But this was not her first time working with Gene Roddenberry.

In fact, her parents were neighbors and good friends of Gene and Eileen Roddenberry during the time he worked for the LAPD and began his career as a television writer.  Emmy Lou grew up regarding him as an uncle. When she was embarking on her Hollywood career, Gene gave her advice about how to avoid the unpleasant situations actresses could find themselves in. He made a special point to watch out for her when he could. One of Gene’s first writing jobs was for a pilot named 333 Montgomery Street, which was based on the life of famous lawyer Jake Erlich. Gene also asked Jake himself to keep an eye out for Emmy Lou. (btw, even tho Gene’s pilot did not sell,  it was shown on Alcoa Theater as a single episode). And of course, we know she acted on three episodes of another show he created and wrote for, The Lieutenant, in addition to her appearances on his new show, Star Trek.

But even though Gene may have watched out for the young actress, Emmy Lou Crawford began to land jobs based solely on her talent. In the first article, I mentioned she did appear as a dancer on the Dean Martin shows. But she told us that she also danced on many other shows such as Andy Williams, a Jimmy Durante Special, the Here’s Lucy show for Lucille Ball, and for the Hollywood Palace (just to mention a few). When Lucille Ball’s assistant choreographer Anita Mann was out, Emmy Lou stepped in. She definitely had made a career for herself in Hollywood.

One sweet memory Emmy Lou Crawford has is from just before her first appearance on the Dean Martin Show. She saw Bette Davis was near her behind the curtain and blurted out she was so nervous. Bette confessed to Emmy Lou that she was quite nervous as well. Emmy Lou always thought it was kind of her to make her feel not so alone.

From her work, Emmy Lou began making some friends whom she enjoyed spending time with. Two of those new friends were Terri Garr and Toni Basil. As dancers, they often would be part of the same show.  One of those would be Pajama Party, which was mentioned in the previous article. Emmy Lou remarked that the three of them even lived together for a while. They were also  featured in a book of photography done by Dennis Hopper titled “Photography 1961- 67.”  Emmy Lou Crawford and Terri Garr are on the right, next to the man in the center. Can you find where Toni Basil is?  I noted in the first article that Emmy Lou appeared in Kissin’ Cousins, one of the many popular Elvis Presley movies. What you may not know is, she confided she also got to date him. 

Now, this is the best part. Long story short, I remembered that David Tilotta and Curt McAloney’s book Star Trek: Lost Scenes had a section on the deleted scenes from “The Cage.”  Lo and behold, on pages 134 and 135, there were six various photos that showed all three serving girls. And two of them had a young lady who definitely resembled the serving girl standing next to Gene Roddenberry in that publicity photo. David & Curt graciously gave me permission to share the one above and when I sent it to Emmy Lou Crawford, she was totally amazed and thrilled. The girl on the left is definitely her, she confirmed.  I have to express my appreciation to both Emmy Lou Crawford and her daughter, Mary Crawford Wilson, for being so willing to chat with me over several days. It meant a lot to me, because I don’t often get to talk to the subjects of my articles. They were most gracious and Emmy Lou was especially generous with her stories and her time.  And of course, I must give thanks to both David Tilotta and Curt McAhoney for always being willing to take their valuable time to format their photos for this article and several others. If you haven’t bought their book, I highly recommend it. So many film clips are just now coming to light and people like David and Curt are doing wonderful work in restoring and publishing a side of Trek that few have gotten to see.

One more thing. Emmy Lou Crawford is being interviewed for Star Trek Magazine today, and I am thrilled her contributions to Star Trek are finally being recognized. I am sure it will be an interesting article and hope to let you know when it comes out in print. 

[recurring-polynya]

Bollywood Review Time!

Today, I am going to talk about Om Shanty Om, a very good movie that was Not For Me.

Let me back up. People recommend stuff to me a lot and I try to watch it and talk about it, and I always feel bad when I don’t like it. This one was recommended to me by my friend @serene-faerie​ I want to make it very clear that you, reader, may like this film very much! It was a strange perfect storm of Things I Don’t Care For, and I actually rather enjoyed the experience of picking apart what I didn’t like about from what I did, because honestly, I am always interested in the ways stories are told and what stories say about themselves.

Cut for spoilers and also length

First off the bat-- this is not a film for the Bollywood beginner. It’s sort of a meta-narrative, with a ton of cameos from famous stars and jokes about Bollywood tropes and directors and such. There’s a ten-minute dance number in the middle that’s just famous people showing up to get down and everybody cheers every time someone new rolls in. I have only actually seen a handful of Bollywood films, mostly made after this one (it was made in 2007), and I could tell that there were a ton of gags and references that flew over my head. I got the sense, both from watching it, and from reading reviews, that this was all very well done and funny, I just didn’t have the proper frame of reference to appreciate it.

The main character, Om, is played by Shah Rukh Khan, an incredibly famous Bollywood star whom I had never heard of before watching this film. In the beginning, Om is a somewhat-bumbling movie extra, dreaming of stardom, flipping his hair, and falling in love with a beautiful starlet on a billboard. I… was not taken in by his charms. I feel like I really missed out by not knowing who Shah Rukh Khan was ahead of time. That was sort of an interesting thought to me-- that a famous actor brings the good will of all his previous roles to a movie with him, and that it was very interesting to me to watch a film stripped of that context. I was literally shocked when halfway through the film, he rips off his shirt and had killer abs, I was absolutely not expecting it.

The deal of the movie is that, through a series of coincidences, Om meets Shanti, the actress of his dreams (from the billboard). She is played by Deepika Padukone, who I fell for immediately. She is gorgeous and had a ton of charisma. This movie seems like it’s going to be a love story, but it really isn’t. Shanti is charmed by Om’s sweetness, but she’s already in a doomed secret marriage with a scumbag director, Mukesh, who ends up murdering her when she wants him to publicly acknowledge her, which is kinda time sensitive, because she is pregnant. Mukesh had planned to have her star in a lavish movie spectacle called Om Shanti Om, but when she forces his hand, he burns the set down with her locked inside. Om witnesses all this; he tries to save her and dies in the process.

Om happens to die in the same hospital where a famous director’s child is being born, and he is reincarnated as the baby, and grows up to have the life he always wanted-- that of a Bollywood superstar. His name is still Om, but his nickname is O.K., so I am going to call him that to distinguish between 1977 Om and 2007 Om. He meets Mukesh again who is now a super-successful Hollywood producer. O.K. gets all the memories of his past life back, and decides to Get Revenge by proposing to do a remake of Om Shanti Om. He finds a wanna-be actress, Sandy, who looks exactly like Shanti, and has her haunt the set in order to make Mukesh think he is going crazy (and maybe also confess? It’s not a terribly clear-cut plan). You might think that Sandy is the reincarnation of Shanti, but Shanti’s ghost shows up in the grand finale of the film, so I guess she wasn’t?? You also might expect O.K. and Sandy to have some romantic feelings, but they really don’t, and in fact, O.K. is actually pretty mean to Sandy, even though she is extremely sweet and I don’t see how anyone could possibly be mean to her.

The movie is lush. The costumes are elaborate, the sets are lavish, the dance numbers are many and long. There is not a single scene without an off-screen fan to dramatically tousle the actors’ hair. I actually rather liked the last act of the movie where they were gaslighting Mukesh and it was over-the-top, scenery-chewing, Hamlet--play-with-in-a-play madness. A chandelier falls on someone. A lot of the end doesn’t even make a lot of sense or exist in any sort of linear time, cutting between the film-within-a-film and dance numbers and what’s “really happening” and I really had no problem with any of this. I actually really liked the amount of meta that was happening and the breakdown of boundaries, and I found the end to be reasonably satisfying.

So what didn’t I like about it?

The entire film relies on you being charmed by Om and I did not care for him. We all have this set of trope personality types that we enjoy and fall for, and “young person who dreams of making it big on the stage/screen” is a huge swipe left for me. Give me a stolid second-in-command who has been stationed at an ice wall for 30 years to protect his homeland. A incredibly tired dude muttering “fuck” as he wades into a swamp to fight a bog zombie, because who else is gonna? My dude turn-ons include duty and self-sacrifice and really good posture. I couldn’t watch Naruto because everyone spouted off about “their dreams” too much, and I thought Om should have cut his losses and gotten a real job. I am who I am.

There’s a weird fine line between “meta,” that is, stories about storytelling and presentation and media, and movies about being in love with making movies. I like the former a lot and I do not care for the latter one bit. I did stage crew for a high school production of 42nd Street and I have a very distinct memory of thinking “this is a play about putting on a play. Why on earth would anyone who is not an actor want to watch this?” I also hate books where the main character is a writer (yes, Stephen King, this is a call-out). I also hate biopics about musicians and actors. I honestly do not care about the craft, and the “magic of cinema” has never been a thing I have found remotely compelling. 

What I love about reincarnation storylines is the period where the characters recognize the feelings and memories that are tied to their previous lives-- where they see someone and can feel their old emotions for this person, but without knowing why. This is where I live. I eat this with a spoon. I want this to prolong the emotional burn, because the characters don't know what are their own feelings and what comes from their past lives, and that there are conflicts that must be resolved for both lifetimes. Alternatively, you can also use a reincarnation storyline to skip the emotional burn entirely, by just having the character “get all their memories back in one fell swoop.” This is… the opposite of what I want. This is what Om Shanty Om does. I felt deeply cheated.

Relatedly, the entire theme of the movie was "When you want something badly, the whole universe conspires to give to you", a sentiment I wholeheartedly disagree with. I love stories about the conflict between agency and destiny, I think this is a really meaty subject, but once again, the movie used it as an excuse to let the characters sit back and do nothing and have a solution to their problems drop into their laps. I am sure you could make an argument for the charm of this viewpoint, but it is not for me.

I like dance numbers all right, but they are not why I watch Bollywood films. This movie is over two hours long and a lot of it was dance numbers. I was very tired of dance numbers by the end. That being said, the titular song was a bop and I had it stuck in my head for days. “Disco of Distress” was my second favorite.

I do not really feel a lot of nostalgia for the late 1970s, which is when the first half of the film takes place. If noisy patterns and kitsch and big winks and goofy hair is your period aesthetic, you will enjoy this part a lot!

Here’s what I did like!

Sunglasses. There were so many good sunnies in this film. So many. A parade of excellent shades.

Deepika Padukone. She is so adorable, for one, and she charmed me in every way that Shah Rukh Khan did not. I loved her both as the melancholy starlet Shanti and the doofy, gum-chewing Sandy, and also the Angry Revenge Ghost at the end. I would say this movie is 75% Om and 25% Shanti, and I would have liked it a lot better if it were the other way around. Sandy had basically no agency whatsoever; the second half of the plot was basically about O.K. getting revenge on Mukush... mostly for himself? I liked that the first half of the movie didn’t make Shanti fall in love with the puppy-like Om just because he was devoted to her, but it would have been a nice reversal if the jaded O.K. had softened toward Sandy more in the second act, and that there had been a bit of a love story to temper the revenge plot.

The idea of the plot. The plot described in words is very cool to me, and there was a period of about 3 minutes in the film when O.K. recognizes Om’s mother when I got real excited about where this was going, and then I realized it wasn’t going where I wanted and was sad again. I think I might have liked it better if the movie started out with O.K. and revealed Om’s story slowly, through flashback, but nothing about this movie catered to my narrative aesthetic, so I eventually gave up with ways of trying to fix it.

Anyway, as I said, I can definitely see how someone could love this movie! If you are a big Bollywood buff and you love dance numbers and silliness and Shah Rukh Khan, I would recommend it in a second! It was strangely almost tailor-made to hit some of my pet peeves, and I was mad because I wanted to like it more than I did.

That’s my review! @serene-faerie​ I hope you still love me even though I didn’t like your movie. I am always trying to expand my movie knowledge and I learned a lot watching this one, and I don’t regret watching it, even though it wasn’t my fave.