#I feel like this adds a layer of comedy onto this

[https-hunter]

A little wwdits detail that I feel I must share with the world. You know how at the end of season three, Nandor leaves for his journey on a train in South Amboy, New Jersey?

That’s a local train station. It’s New Jersey Transit. The furthest out of state that’s gonna get him is New York City, where he probably came from, and Philadelphia.

Where did he think that was going to take him 😭

[qin-qin16]

My computer is possessed?! Oh, wait, it's just my out-coded skeleton boyfriend!

Summary: When some of your work in progress goes missing, you decide to start investigating whether your computer has a virus. That is until you realize that the few remaining works are of one character: Error Sans. cw: kinitoPET and creepypasta vibes, writer Reader, Ink is mentioned, Error is jealousy, again, comedy, Reader finally notices that something wrong is happening! (Part one) (Part two)

“I should really get a new chair..." You say slowly, tilting your head back and feeling your neck stretch — a habit that you keep indulging in, no matter how sore it makes your nape afterward. "Then again, I also need to buy some new pants... and a new mouse as well..." Your head rolls over your shoulders, and before you know it, you’re staring at the computer screen again.

Your fingers lightly tap against the table; pinky, ring, middle, and index. One after the other in a rhythmic sequence — until you mess up and clench your hand into a loose fist.

"Ink definitely wouldn’t say that; he’s just so clueless." And there you are, deleting an entire paragraph for the third time, unhappy with how your story is turning out. "Why did I have to write about this jerk again?"

Because he’s a complex character with many layers that can add depth to your plot. You can almost imagine yourself explaining it, wearing glasses with a raised finger — just like that nerd emoji meme.

Even though your explanation was spot on, you can’t help but huff in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your thumbs before looking back at the blank Word document.

“... Why is this so bright?” If you were standing in front of a mirror, you’d definitely see your pupils constricting; a slight burning sensation spreading across your eyes as your finger keeps clicking on the computer keys, the brightness rapidly dimming.

Before you can blink, you let out a slow hiss. The burning in your eyes, sharp against your sensitive irises, returns suddenly; and in front of you, seemingly amused by the situation, your computer screen is set to full brightness.

"What the hell?" you curse, quickly covering your eyes with your hands as you pull away from the screen. For a moment, all you see is complete darkness, with a few bright spots flickering in your vision.

Maybe it’s time to start using eye drops; your eyes probably wouldn’t hurt so much after hours in front of the computer.

"I must have pressed the wrong key..." That’s a possibility, if it weren’t for a little voice in the back of your mind whispering the steps you took moments ago; you definitely pressed the right keys and released them at the right moment to actually dim the screen. "Or did I think I clicked but really didn’t?"

Your head droops onto your shoulders — and a low grunt escapes your lips as you feel the muscles in your neck stretch, pulling your shoulder blades along with them.

You rest your face in your hands, then rub your eyes and look at the computer again between your fingers. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Your feet shuffle toward the table, the rolling chair getting stuck at some point. “I just need to finish at least this dialogue before I can finally shut this thing down with a clear conscience.”

In theory, it should be a simple task; in practice, not so much. Especially when the paragraphs you’ve already written keep getting erased-

"What the hell is going on?!" You couldn’t believe — or understand — what was happening right before your eyes: sentence by sentence, your fanfic was being quickly erased, line by line.

You quickly moved the mouse away from the document, clicking anywhere else in the browser to stop your writing from being deleted — which didn’t do much good. The cursor soon started moving on its own, spinning around the screen until it selected an entire paragraph and deleted it.

"What’s going on?!" you shout as you repeat the same action, clicking outside the browser to keep the cursor from going back to the document, sliding it left, right — anywhere to keep whatever was controlling your mouse away from your precious fanfic. "Is this what a hacker attack feels like?"

It’s the only explanation; unless the existence of ghosts is not just real, but they also have the ability to manipulate electronics and understand how the internet works.

Before you could think any more about it, the cursor had returned to the center of the screen — but this time, before it could delete any more of your text, you quickly took control of the mouse, dragging it to the red box in the corner of the window and closing it for good.

You didn’t even curse or shout afterward; your mouth stays slightly open, slowly widening enough to express your disbelief at what had just happened. Your eyes remained fixed on the computer, even as your vision grew increasingly blurry, much like the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"What the hell was that? Was it some kind of virus? Or a hacker's prank? I didn’t share this document with anyone, so it must have been some damn hacker with no job doing something so messed up! But wait, what if it’s like those little computer avatars that are actually viruses messing with your documents and folders? Did I download something strange without even noticing?”

Your focus snaps back to the screen as a notepad file opens in the upper corner of your desktop.

HEHEHEHEHEHEH GOT YOU!

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, grinding your teeth together as your eyes scan the message in all caps again and again.

This was solid proof (at least for your stress-fried brain) that this was the work of a sadistic hacker, taking pleasure in your suffering. It was decided: you would take your computer to a specialist as soon as possible — hacker or not, you would get your precious computer back at any cost.

Banging your head against the desk — and grunting as the pain spreads across your forehead — you don’t even notice that the light on your webcam is on.

Tagging area, if you want to be tagged, just ask :D

@snastheskeleton64 @moon-and-fries @unamzi @something-random1-1-blog @lostsoulofdragon @notagamerlol @staryycheze

[winterlico]

SEVEN DAYS WITH A DEMON — SJY

⋆.˚ pairing : demon!Jake x fem!reader | status : on going

Summary : You thought summoning a demon for seven days would be temporary. You were wrong.

⋆.˚ word count : 4.6k

Genre : Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Light Angst, Fluff

⋆.˚ warnings : 18+ joke (implicitly), harsh words, making out, LOTS of teasing (buckle up)

⋆.˚ a/n : English is not my first language and this is the first time i uploaded a fanfic, i'm sorry if there is still a lot missing words. If you want to be tagged, comment here!

❛ feedback & reblogs appreciated! ❜

Night Three: A Glimpse of Humanity

Too comfortable.

You don’t know when it happened exactly—when his presence stopped feeling like an intrusion and started feeling… inevitable. Like the hum of a fridge in the background or the creak of the old floorboard by the door. He’s just there now, sprawling on your couch like it’s a throne, flipping through your books as if he has all the time in the world—which, technically, he does.

He’s even stopped asking permission for things, not that he ever really asked to begin with. He raids your fridge despite claiming that human food has no effect on him. He changes the position of your lamps, just slightly, so they shine at angles that bother you. He has an infuriating habit of claiming your favorite seat whenever you stand up, smirking like he’s won something.

And the worst part? You’re starting to expect him.

Tonight, he’s stretched across your couch, golden eyes lazily tracking the words of a book he’s holding one-handed, his long fingers drumming absentmindedly against the spine. His jacket is slung over the armrest. His feet—bare feet, why is he barefoot?—are propped up on your coffee table like this is his home.

It isn’t.

But some part of you doesn’t tell him to leave. Instead, you sigh and plop onto the couch beside him, shifting until you can steal a glimpse of the book in his hands.

You blink. “Pride and Prejudice?”

Jake hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up. “Figured I’d see what the fuss was about.”

You snort. Of all the things you’d expect a demon to read, classic Regency romance isn’t one of them. “And?”

He turns a page, slow and deliberate. There’s something contemplative about the way he reads, like he’s sifting through the words for something deeper than what’s written. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than usual, thoughtful in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

“Humans are… strange,” he murmurs. “So fragile, yet so full of stubborn pride. So desperate for love, even when they don’t admit it.”

For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The way he says it—like an observation made over lifetimes, like something he’s learned the hard way—makes your heart stutter.

Then, as if sensing the weight of his own words, Jake shifts, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. His golden eyes flick to you, amusement gleaming beneath something unreadable. “Besides,” he adds, “I think I’d make an excellent Mr. Darcy.”

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Please. You’re more of a Wickham.”

Jake gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, angel. Truly, deeply wounded.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. It’s too easy to laugh around him, even when you don’t mean to.

You don’t realize, until much later, that this is the first night you stop seeing him as just a demon.

By the time you step into the shower, the apartment is finally quiet.

For the first time in three nights, there’s no smug remarks, no stolen seats, no golden-eyed menace lurking in your periphery. Just you, warm water, and a few precious minutes of peace.

The water is scalding, just the way you like it, cascading down your back in steady rivulets. Steam thickens the air, curling against your skin, wrapping around your limbs like a second layer. You let it burn, washing away the tension in your shoulders, the way your entire body still feels restless from dinner—no, from him.

From the way Jake had watched you eat, slow and amused, golden eyes too sharp, lips curling around every bite like he was savoring something else entirely.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the shower wall.

It’s fine.

It’s just Jake.

He’s annoying, intrusive, a walking, talking migraine in leather—but he’s not anything else.

Right?

You exhale sharply and turn off the water. The pipes groan as the rush slows to a trickle, the room dense with humidity. You don’t even bother wiping the fog from the mirror—just reach blindly for your towel, already mentally preparing to crawl into bed and pretend tonight never happened.

But then—

You see it. Your heart stops.

The mirror is still fogged up, steam clinging to the surface, but in the haze—there’s something written.

And it’s not your handwriting. The letters are messy, traced lazily with a fingertip, as if the writer hadn’t really tried to be neat. And yet, despite the casual scrawl, the words hit you square in the chest:

Miss me, angel?

Your blood turns to ice. Your stomach drops. Your breath catches, hitches, stutters. Because you are a rational adult, because you are absolutely not losing your mind over this—

You scream.

Not a dignified noise. Not a startled gasp. No—this is a full-bodied, soul-leaving-your-corpse, horror-movie shriek that rattles the walls.

From somewhere in the apartment, you hear laughter.

Deep, rumbling, thoroughly entertained laughter.

“JAKE!” you shriek, whipping open the bathroom door so fast it slams against the wall, still dripping wet, still barely processing reality.

And there he is.

Leaning against the hallway wall, arms lazily crossed, expression radiating smug amusement.

He’s been waiting for this. Waiting for you to see it. Waiting for your reaction.

“You took forever, angel,” he muses, golden eyes gleaming. “I was about to get bored.”

Your entire soul catches fire.

Your skin is still damp, heat curling at your cheeks—not just from rage but from embarrassment, from the realization that you are standing there, dripping wet, wearing nothing but a thin towel barely clinging to your dignity.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric. Your brain is a storm of white noise and homicidal intent. And before you can think—before logic and self-preservation can kick in—

You hurl your towel at his face with force.

There is a glorious, fleeting second where Jake’s smirk disappears entirely. His head jerks slightly as the towel slaps against him with a solid, wet thud, covering his face.

For one perfect, golden moment, the demon is stunned into silence.

Then—

Jake makes the most dramatic, unholy gasp you have ever heard in your life. A deep, theatrical inhale, as if you had mortally wounded him, as if you had banished him straight back to hell with nothing but damp terrycloth. He staggers back, catching the towel as it slides off his face, gripping it to his chest like a tragic widow in a melodrama.

“Angel,” he gasps, voice drenched in mock betrayal. “Did you just—did you just assault me?”

You don’t care that you are now standing stark naked in front of an actual demon—all you care about is killing him on sight.

“YOU—YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!” you bellow, grabbing the nearest object (a shampoo bottle) and launching it at his head.

Jake dodges effortlessly, laughter bubbling in his throat. “Tsk, tsk, angel. Violence isn’t the answer.”

You snatch another bottle. “GET OUT!”

He grins, golden eyes glinting, zero fear in his expression. “You know, I thought you’d be embarrassed, but you’re really embracing the natural look—”

“JAKE.”

Jake raises both hands in surrender, still very much not sorry, but at least having the decency to step back. “Alright, alright,” he drawls, still holding your towel hostage.

And then—

He winks.

Winks.

And vanishes down the hall.

You stand there, naked, wet, humiliated, and shaking with rage, your pulse thundering in your ears. You turn back to the mirror, to the fading message scrawled across the glass.

Miss me, angel?

Your face burns.

With a frustrated scream, you slam the bathroom door shut, vowing—vowing—that if you don’t kill him tonight, you will find a way to exorcise his smug ass tomorrow.

Later, when you finally calm down—after threatening his existence and contemplating banishing him back to hell—you find him lounging in the kitchen, watching you cook like nothing happened.

You glare at him, still fuming, but Jake just smirks, propping his chin on his hand. “What’s the point of all this?” he muses, nodding toward the pot. “Humans put so much effort into eating when it gives them no real power.”

You roll your eyes. “Because food is good, Jake.”

He scoffs. “Not to me.”

That gives you an idea. You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms. “Then let’s change that.”

Jake raises a brow. “Oh?”

“I wish for you to taste food,” you say. “Like a human.”

He stares at you for a long moment, unreadable. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he snaps his fingers. “Fine,” he mutters. “Let’s get this over with.”

You don’t even give him a warning before shoving a spoonful of your homemade dish into his mouth.

Jake freezes.

Then—

A low, deep groan escapes him.

You hate how your stomach flips.

He grips the counter like he’s holding onto reality itself. His tongue flicks against his lower lip just a little too suggestively, and when he looks up, his gaze is dark.

Your brain short-circuits.

Later that night, you’re still flustered when you head to your bedroom. You open the door—only to find Jake lying on your bed. On your bed. Casually sprawled, arms behind his head, looking at you like he belongs there.

You grip the doorknob. “Get. Out.”

Jake smirks. “Why? There’s enough space for two.”

Your entire soul leaves your body. “Jake—”

“Relax, angel.” He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “I’ll behave. Unless you don’t want me to.”

You slam the door so fast.

Through the wood, you hear him laughing.

But when you wake up hours later, something feels off.

The apartment is quiet. No sarcastic remarks. No unnecessary Jake-ness.

And then—

“Miss me already?”

You yelp.

Jake materializes beside you, grinning. “That was cute.”

You slap his arm. “Don’t do that!”

He chuckles, warm and low. “Aw, come on, angel. Admit it. You’d be lonely without me.”

You scoff. “Please.”

But you don’t push him away when he sits beside you and you don’t stop him when he lingers.

Bonus scene

Jake was not thinking about it.

Not. Thinking. About. It.

He was definitely not lying on your couch at 4 AM, staring at the ceiling like a man haunted by his own choices. He was not replaying the way the towel had hit him in the face, the way it had smacked him with the full, unholy force of divine retribution before landing at his feet, damp and utterly incriminating.

He was not thinking about the look on your face when it happened—the sheer, unfiltered rage, the way your eyes had burned with the intensity of a thousand suns, the way your chest had risen and fallen in sharp, angry breaths as if you were holding back the urge to commit murder.

And he was certainly not thinking about what had happened after. About the way you had stood there, naked, furious, completely unbothered by your own lack of clothing in the face of pure rage.

Jake let out a slow, exhausted breath, dragging a hand down his face.

No.

This was fine.

This was just a game. It was nothing.

He had been around for centuries. He had seen things that would drive mortals to madness, had walked through battlefields soaked in blood, had watched empires rise and crumble to dust, had stood at the edge of existence and gazed into the void itself.

And yet—

Yet.

A single mortal woman had managed to short-circuit his entire being with a damp towel and the audacity to stand there, unbothered, as if she hadn’t just ruined him forever.

Jake exhaled sharply, sitting up, elbows on his knees, fingers threading through his already mussed-up hair.

The apartment was quiet now, save for the occasional hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing by on the street below.

It was too quiet. Too still. He didn’t like it.

For the past three nights, he had gotten used to your presence. Used to the chaotic energy you radiated, used to the way you sighed dramatically whenever he took your seat, used to the playful banter, the teasing, the unspoken game of seeing who could get under the other’s skin first.

And now?

Now you were hiding. For the first time, you had chosen to retreat instead of fight.

Jake tapped his fingers against his knee, his jaw tightening.

He didn't like that, either.

One Hour After the Towel Incident

Jake found himself outside your door.

Not lurking.

Just… existing. Near the door. Casually. Like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to just be there at 5 AM, standing in the hallway with his arms crossed, frowning at the closed door like it had personally offended him.

Because really, it had. You hadn’t come out. Not even once.

And that?

That was unnacceptable.

Jake knocked once, slow and deliberate, letting the sound echo through the quiet apartment.

Silence. A long, pointed silence.

Jake tilted his head, smirking. "So," he drawled, voice low, smooth, dangerous in the way that always got a reaction from you.

Still nothing. He grinned. "Are we just going to ignore that you threw a towel at my face?"

The silence that followed was so profoundly aggressive that Jake could practically hear the way you were grinding your teeth on the other side.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. He leaned against the doorframe, lowering his voice just slightly, just enough to be infuriating. "You know, angel, if you wanted me naked too, you could’ve just asked."

The sound that came from inside your room was somewhere between a muffled shriek and a declaration of war.

Jake grinned.

Then—

Then he heard you aggressively burying yourself under your blankets.

He smirked. Oh, this was too easy.

"Goodnight, angel," he purred, voice filled with nothing but smug delight.

A pillow hit the door.

Jake laughed, low and satisfied, and pushed off the doorframe, retreating back into the living room, utterly pleased with himself.

But the moment he lay back down on the couch, his smirk faltered. Because now?

Now there was nothing else to distract him.

And that? That was a problem.

Three Hours After the Towel Incident

Jake had not moved. He was still on the couch, staring at the ceiling, his mind looping back to the same damn moment over and over again. He tried to rationalise it. Tried to tell himself that this was just his usual games, that he was amused, nothing more.

But that didn’t explain why he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It didn’t explain why his brain kept replaying every little detail—

The way the light had caught on the water droplets running down your skin.

The way your lips had parted slightly when you had gasped in rage.

The way your cheeks had flushed, not from embarrassment, but from fury.

The way you had stood there, unshaken, completely unbothered by your own state of undress, because all you had cared about in that moment was absolutely wrecking his shit.

Jake let out a low, irritated groan, dragging both hands down his face.

No.

This was not happening. He needed to fix this. He needed to get back in control, regain the upper hand.

Because this?

This was not normal.

He was not supposed to be lying awake at 5 AM, thinking about the way your shoulders had tensed when you’d stepped into the doorway, or the way your collarbone had looked with droplets of water catching in the dim light.

Fuck.

He was not doing this.

Tomorrow, Jake would fix this. He would go back to being the one in control. He would prove to himself that this was just another game.

Just another human. Just another silly, fleeting moment that meant absolutely nothing.

Jake leaned back, arms crossed, scowling at the ceiling.

Because deep down—deep in the part of himself he refused to acknowledge—

He knew he was lying.

The Fourth Morning

Jake did not sleep. Not even a little.

Not that he needed sleep, exactly, but there was a difference between choosing not to sleep and lying awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying the same moment over and over again in his head like a damn cursed record.

This was the second one.

He had tried everything to shove the thoughts out of his head. Tried to focus on literally anything else. Tried to remind himself that this was just a game.

That you were just another human. That he was only here for his own entertainment, nothing more.

But the problem was—

The real, actual, devastating problem was—

Jake had always been a damn good liar.

And right now? He wasn’t buying his own bullshit. Because every time he tried to push the memory away, it clawed its way back.

The towel.

The look on your face.

The way you had just stood there, naked and furious, utterly unbothered.

And, most damning of all—

The way he had looked at you. The way he had felt something shift inside him, something that should have never, ever been there.

Jake ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.

No.

No.

This was not happening.

7 AM – The Kitchen

By the time the sun started rising, Jake had abandoned all attempts at rational thought and decided that if he couldn’t stop thinking about it, he might as well pretend it never happened.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

All he had to do was act normal. Just play it cool. Just not think about how he had, against every ounce of logic in his body, spent the entire night awake because of you.

So, naturally, like a fully functioning and rational individual, Jake made himself comfortable in your kitchen, leaning against the counter, sipping a fresh cup of coffee like he hadn’t just gone through an entire existential crisis in the past six hours.

Totally normal. Totally fine.

He’s totally not waiting for you to wake up. And then he heard it. The sound of your door opening.

Jake froze.

For the first time since last night, he realized he had no actual plan for what to do when he saw you.

Shit. He couldn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.

Because there you were. Stepping into the kitchen, hair slightly tousled from sleep, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that barely grazed the tops of your thighs.

The absolute worst part?

You were still drowsy. Still half-asleep, still blinking the exhaustion from your eyes, shoulders slumping slightly as you padded toward the fridge, completely unaware that Jake was standing right there, watching you.

Jake gripped his coffee cup like it was his last lifeline.

No.

No, no, no.

He was not doing this again. He was not getting caught off guard twice in less than twelve hours. He forced his gaze to the ceiling, then to the floor, then anywhere but directly at you, gripping the countertop so hard it nearly cracked under his fingers.

This is fine. This is fine.

Just say something. Just act normal.

Just—

"Morning, angel."

Fuck.

His voice came out lower than intended, rough around the edges, like he’d just woken up himself, which was absolutely not the case because he hadn’t slept a damn second.

You froze mid-step.

For a long, excruciating moment, you just stood there, one hand on the fridge door, staring at him like you had just remembered exactly what had happened last night.

Jake saw it all in real-time—

The split-second recognition. The way your entire body tensed. The way your grip on the fridge tightened ever so slightly. The slow, creeping flush that spread across your cheeks.

Oh.

Oh, this was interesting.

Jake felt a wicked smirk tug at his lips, leaning slightly against the counter, tilting his head as he watched your reaction unfold.

You were embarrassed.

After everything—after standing there, bare and unshaken, after throwing a towel at his face like a vengeful goddess, after screaming bloody murder through the apartment—

You were actually embarrassed now.

Fascinating and entirely unfair, because Jake was absolutely, definitely not thinking about how good you looked in that stupid oversized shirt.

You cleared your throat, eyes darting anywhere but at him, muttering a barely coherent, “Morning,” before grabbing a water bottle and immediately turning away like that would make him disappear.

Jake smirked. This was going to be fun.

"Sleep well?" he asked, taking a slow sip of coffee.

You visibly stiffened. A beat of silence. Then, voice tight, "Fine."

Jake raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? You sure? Because it seemed like you were up pretty late last night."

You nearly choked on your water.

Jake almost laughed.

You turned your head just enough to glare at him, lips pressing together into a thin line. "You talk too much," you grumbled.

And oh, he could work with that. Jake set his coffee down, stretching his arms in a way that was entirely unnecessary, voice dripping with casual smugness.

"Come on, angel," he said smoothly, "don't be shy. I mean, considering everything I saw last night—"

"I will throw this water bottle at your head."

Jake grinned.

There you were. And just like that, the tension cracked, dissolving into something sharp, playful, familiar. It was a game again.

The way it was supposed to be.

Jake chuckled, taking another slow sip of coffee, watching as you tried desperately to compose yourself, to pretend you weren’t still thinking about last night.

But he could tell.

Oh, he could tell.

And maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t the only one losing his mind.

Jake knew he was playing a dangerous game.

Knew it from the moment you walked into the kitchen, all sleep-tousled hair and half-lidded eyes, wearing an oversized shirt that shouldn’t be doing as much damage as it was.

Knew it from the way his body reacted before his brain could catch up, every muscle tensing like he was bracing for impact.

And impact it was.

Because despite his best efforts—despite the hours he’d spent convincing himself that last night meant nothing, that the image of you standing in that doorway, bare and furious, was already fading from his mind—

It wasn’t.

It was burned into him now.

And judging by the way you refused to look directly at him, the way your hands gripped the water bottle like it was your last lifeline, the way your shoulders were tense, like you were forcing yourself to act normal—

Jake wasn’t the only one suffering.

Interesting.

And, perhaps, a little dangerous. Because if you were feeling it too, if you were struggling just as much as he was—

Then this was no longer a game he was in control of.

And he should stop.

He should dial it back.

He should let it go.

He should—

"Considering everything I saw last night—"

Oh.

Oh, he was a fucking idiot.

Because the second those words left his mouth, the second you whipped your head around to glare at him, face heating, grip tightening on the water bottle like you were actually considering launching it at his skull—

Jake felt something sharp and electric pulse through him, something hot, something dangerous, something that felt a little too much like desire.

Shit.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there, glaring, breathing just a little too fast, as if you were trying to decide whether murder was worth the consequences.

That was fun and dangerous. He liked you like this.

Angry. Flustered. Teetering on the edge of something you didn’t want to acknowledge. And maybe—just maybe—he wanted to push you over it.

You exhaled sharply, slamming the water bottle down on the counter before turning fully toward him, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"You," you said, voice slow, dangerous, "are an absolute menace."

Jake grinned.

"That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, angel."

Your eyes narrowed.

Jake tilted his head, studying you.

You were trying so hard to act normal. Trying to pretend that last night hadn’t shaken you. Trying to convince yourself that this was still just an annoying little game.

But he could see through it.

He could see the way your weight shifted slightly, the way you kept your arms crossed like a shield, the way your breathing had changed—

You were flustered, not just in an annoyed way.

Oh.

Oh, this was something else.

Something new. Something infinitely more dangerous.

Jake’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second—so fast he almost didn’t catch it himself. Because if this wasn’t just a game anymore—

If you were actually looking at him differently now—

Fuck.

He should stop.

He should walk away. He should say something sarcastic and move on and pretend none of this was happening.

But then, you did something you shouldn’t have done.

Something reckless.

You took a step closer. Just one step.

Barefoot, arms still crossed, face still defiantly unreadable—

But closer.

And Jake?

Jake forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t even that close. Not really. There was still space.

But for some reason, it felt like too much.

Like if he reached out, he could touch you.

Like if he leaned forward, his breath would mingle with yours.

Like if he let himself, just for a second—

No.

Absolutely not.

This was dangerous.

"You’re staring."

Jake blinked.

You were watching him now, closely. And oh, that was bad. Because you had never looked at him like this before.

Not with frustration.

Not with exasperation.

Not with that unspoken question burning in the space between you.

Jake had been in too many situations like this not to recognize what was happening.

The tension.

The way the air felt thick, the way his chest felt tight, the way he could hear your breathing a little too well. It was the kind of moment that only ever ended one way.

Jake was not going to let that happen.

Not today. Not when he had already let it go too far. So instead, he did what he always did when he was on the edge of something irreversible.

He broke it.

Jake let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back against the counter with a mock-disappointed shake of his head.

"You know, angel," he said, voice lazy, cocky, unbothered— "if you wanted to get close to me, you could’ve just said so."

And just like that—

The spell was shattered. You rolled your eyes so hard it looked painful. Jake smirked, relief and something unnameable settling in his chest.

This was better.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you grabbed your water bottle. "I hate you."

Jake grinned. "You love me."

And just as you turned to leave, just as the air began to settle, just as he thought he had gotten away with it—

You hesitated. Paused. Didn’t turn around.

But your voice—when you finally spoke—

Was quiet.

"Not everything’s a joke, Jake."

And then you were gone.

Jake stood there, staring at the space where you had been, coffee cup still in his hand, something cold settling in his chest.

Because for the first time since this started—

He wasn’t sure which one of you was playing the game anymore.

back to the list ⋆˚࿔

taglist : @firstclassjaylee @tya0 @limerenceisserenity

If you want to be tagged, comment here!

[bcacstuff]

STELLA MCCARTNEY dress and GIVENCHY boots.

There’s something about Izzy Meikle-Small. It’s not just the delicate cheekbones or the quintessential Englishness that makes her a favorite for period dramas. It’s not even her enviable resume which includes her stepping into the shoes of some of the UK’s most luminous stars. No, there’s a quiet but resolute determination to claim her own narrative—shadowy beginnings, a taste for the unconventional, and a new era of artistic self-possession.

For years, Meikle-Small was cinema’s favorite time machine—a younger Carey Mulligan, a pint-sized Vanessa Kirby, a teenage Charlize Theron. Yet, there’s something deliciously ironic in her being cast as the precursor to these screen giants. “I don’t really look like any of them, but I’ll take it!” she laughs. “It was amazing to learn from them.” For a young actor finding her footing, the sets of those films were both playground and classroom. “Being on set as a kid can be really intimidating,” she admits, “but all three of them made an effort to make me feel really comfortable.”

Indeed, while her face was a canvas onto which casting directors mapped their favorite leads, Meikle-Small was watching, learning, absorbing. Working alongside the likes of Mulligan and Kirby wasn’t just a brush with greatness—it was a kind of mentorship. “We would have big conversations about the characters and the plot, and that helped me understand their process, which therefore informed my own and taught me how successful actors created their characters. I really appreciate the time that they took with me because it really helped shape my view of the industry and what it means to be an actor and a filmmaker.”

SACAI jacket and shirt.

Meikle-Small is no longer standing in someone else’s light. With her role as Rachel Hunter in season seven part two of runaway success historical drama series, Outlander (streaming now on MGM+ in the UK and Starz in the US) she’s stepping out of the shadows and into her own spotlight. “I’ve never joined a show which had such a pre-existing fan base,” she says. The Outlander fandom is nothing if not passionate, and Meikle-Small knows she’s shouldering the expectations of readers who’ve cherished Rachel on the page.

“Rachel is so sweet and pious and all of these things. She’s sassy, but she’s a really kind person, which is lovely to play, but I’d love to play someone with maybe a bit more edge. Maybe somebody in comedy could be fun, or something modern, where I could wear jeans,” she laughs. That’s not to say she doesn’t appreciate the role’s intricacies. “Rachel wears a bonnet, and that’s a lot to do with her religion but also feeling bound in. Doing period dramas, I feel like the history informs your character, and with Rachel being a Quaker living in the 1700s, all of these layers of history do add to your character.”

SACAI jacket, shirt, and boots.

And the audience reception has been equally rewarding. “The Outlander audience connects so deeply with every episode, and they’ve really welcomed me in with very open arms,” she says earnestly. “I was worried that people might not love me as [Rachel] as much as I would want them to.” For someone who spent her youth in roles that were more scaffolding than centerpiece, this level of engagement is a revelation. “When I was younger, I didn’t have a fan base in the same way. Because I was a kid, my exposure was different. Coming and doing this now is such a blessing.”

If Outlander marks Meikle-Small’s coronation, her ambitions reach well beyond bonnets and bodices. “I would love to do an indie British film,” she says. “In the last few years, we’ve seen some amazing films coming out of the UK. I think the new year will bring new freedom. I just started auditioning, so we’ll see what happens.”

This isn’t her first time coming out of the shadows and shaping her own destiny. “I got my first job at nine and my first movie at 13. By 18 or 19, I’d missed a lot of school. It got to the point where I was like, ‘What if I just went away, lived my life for a few years, was able to kind of grow up and mature physically but also mentally, and have some life experience?’”

UNDERCOVER dress.

She’s also drawn to the unexpected. “Genre isn’t really that important to me. There are genres that I prefer to watch as a viewer, but in terms of acting, I always want to do something different. I tend to be cast a lot in period dramas, and I think I just look very English, and that’s why that happens,” she chuckles at the inevitability of it all. “If I haven’t done a genre before, I’m more likely to be drawn towards it because it’s something that I’ve not done yet.”

For example, Meikle-Small is a dark comedy-fan, and since she specialized in medieval dark comedy in school, she’s grown incredibly fond of them. “I think that probably is one of my favorite genres to watch,” Meikle-Small admits. “It’s funny, but also it really normally packs a bit of a sucker punch message. It’s a clever way of concealing the emotional message to make it more palatable.”

While at university, Meikle-Small fell in love with producing, a role that seems perfectly suited to her thoughtful and measured approach. “I tend to work with a lot of writers who were actors who’ve turned to writing,” she says. “Because I am also an actor, they trust that I will understand and can see their point of view and that I can lead them behind the camera in a way that they’ll understand.”

If there’s one thread tying together Meikle-Small’s eclectic pursuits, it’s her deep love of stories. “I definitely would say I am a book lover,” she says, noting her background in English literature. “Doing period dramas feels natural because I love adaptations. It’s kind of my niche.” But she’s not content to simply bring existing narratives to life—she’s crafting her own.

UNDERCOVER dress and shoes.

“I have started writing, which feels a little bit scary,” she reveals. “There’s a short that I co-wrote with my friend—it’s not ready at all, but there’s something really interesting in the idea. There’s also a book that I’m trying to adapt to be a film screenplay.” For someone who has spent years embodying other people’s characters, the act of writing is an exercise in autonomy. “Whenever I’m writing things, I’m imagining myself playing the character that I would like to play, which always makes it more fun.” 

Her dream? To merge her passions into one cohesive whole. “The aim is to kind of get bigger and welcome bigger things. My absolute dream would be to act in something that I’m also producing and be able to have a kind of creative say in front of and behind the camera, especially on Outlander like watching Caitríona [Balfe] and Sam [Heughan] do that with such grace. It feels more tangible now, and I think I’d have less imposter syndrome.”

As Meikle-Small looks ahead, she’s taking stock of what she’s achieved and where she wants to go. This self-assurance radiates in her ambitions. Whether it’s an indie film, a dark comedy, or something completely different, Meikle-Small is ready to embrace whatever comes next. Izzy Meikle-Small is no shadow; she’s the whole picture.

All seasons of Outlander, including 7 Part 2, are available to stream on MGM+ in the UK and Starz in the US now. 

UNDERCOVER dress and shoes and JAEGER-LECOULTRE watch.

Photographed by Lee Malone

Styled by Karen Clarkson at The Wall Group

Written by Lily Brown

Hair: Grace Hatcher using Sam McKnight

Makeup: Irina Cajvaneanu at Caren using Lisa Eldridge Beauty 

Stylist Assistant : Maïlys Pereira

[animehouse-moe]

Skip and Loafer Episode 4: Tingling and Scraping

P.A Works and Skip and Loafer are doing it again, and again, and again. They continue to deliver interesting and unique direction and visuals that pile on a delightfully warm sense of comedy and friendship, and is complemented by thoughtful commentary and exploration of the most challenging aspects of being a high schooler. Today, that topic is regrets and expectations.

But who wants to start with the heavy stuff first, I like the cute and fluffy pieces too! Thanks to this episode's direction though, we get a lot of very beautiful scenery. There's a really strong focus that almost separates environment from characters, and lets you soak both up in copious amounts.

It's just so damn beautiful, but the characters can do a good job of distracting you from it. Take, for example, the use of CGI vehicles in the following scene. Unless you're looking at them they don't do anything other than populate the scenery, they just blend in so well with the lighting and color palette. To that end, I feel like P.A Works' use of CGI throughout the series so far has been really well managed. It fills up the layouts and adds life to the background of it all, but isn't enough where you're forced to look at it.

Anyways, moving on, the overall direction. I like it, it walks a fine line, but I like it. It's an episode that focuses far more on the internal pieces of characters so you get a good few close ups, but they do a good job of molding those pieces so that they fit within a "first person" perspective. It's very hard to explain, but basically the way they frame and block characters within a scene is to have viewers look through the eyes of a character, instead of the lens of a camera. It's a subtle piece, and I feel like they could do it better in some other areas, but there's quite a few pieces that stand out and really sell that first person feel.

Just simple things, like this scene of Mitsumi watching the old TV Drama that Shima-Kun acted in. The FoV is more stretched and there's the slightest visual effects to make sure viewers understand they're looking at a screen.

Or scenes like these pairs place us directly behind a character's line of sight (second image is a follow up cut that shows the pair in a single scene).

Stuff like this shows the strong awareness of today's episode director. Without these follow-up scenes, the direction (even though the initial scenes are still creative) can come off as typical or "standard", but the concept of that first person perspective is framed by seeing just how you saw the previous scenes. Really great work that's apparent through the episode.

Speaking of apparent through the episode, the comedy! I love that Takamatsu-sensei found a vehicle for their (non-deprecating) humor and ran with it. The adaptability of space, and its relation to Mitsumi is really felt in this episode. Thanks to that, I've got a newfound appreciation for the comedy and the sort of daydreaming aspect. It's so fluid and creative, and no matter what it finds its roots with Mitsumi which is really nice.

And just to round it out, the technical work on the speeds and movement of the background layers in this cut is so well done. Such a great mimicry of how it actually looks.

Alright, onto the story now! It's really lovely. I appreciate how it tackles the issues so much. It refuses to look at them as an issue that faces a single character, or one that characters can share, and instead brings the sentiment to a more macro scale and portrays it as something that every high school student deals with.

Shima-Kun has regrets, Mitsumi has regrets, Takamine has regrets, even characters like Kanechika are faced with regret and its challenges. And that's what this episode ends up all about, facing those expectations and staring down regret and what you might regret later down the road.

I feel like the above image really puts the whole episode into context quite well. What does it mean to have no regrets? When will you know if you'll regret something in the moment? They're questions without answers, and the curiosity possessed by the teenagers within the series does well to really sell it.

They don't have a real answer to it, nor can they quite put it into words, but instead they can experience it. They can understand how to live without regrets and how to find happiness in every corner in life. Like this scene of Takamine as she looks out the window of the bus

. She's regretting her decisions, she's beating herself up for losing and wasting time. But one little moment with Mitsumi wipes it all away, because the view was worth it. Such a simple thing as a landscape was enough to ease Takamine, and I think it's great. It's not the big moments that make that difference, it's the little ones you might not otherwise experience.

And god do I love how Takamine and Mitsumi are played off each other. They exist as polar opposites in the most important moments, and show how impactful each is on the other to strike a balance between the two lifestyles. Stuff like Takamine studying while Mitsumi eats candy and watches the scenery go by, just really simple pieces that establish that fundamental rift between the personalities of the two.

Surprisingly, something this simple is actually an incredibly important piece of symbolism that ties to an earlier conversation that Mitsumi had with Shima-Kun. Mitsumi used to have expectations and regrets weigh incredibly heavy on her, so bad that it was to the point that she wasn't eating while studying for exams. But one person was able to help carry that weight and let Mitsumi be free.

That's what's happening with Takamine and Mitsumi, an implicit conversation telling Takamine that it's okay to betray expectations and have regrets. That you can fail and not get into the middle school of your choice and still have a wonderful life. It's a really wonderful piece for reassuring people with their whole life ahead of them that they have just that. There's no rush to fill your schedule and do everything possible every waking moment to make sure you get to where you're going. It's all about the journey, or in this case, the bus ride.

And just to top it all off, Takamine really changes quite quickly. What's best about it though is that they show it as a subconscious change before they express it as a thought. They used to have nightmares about being left behind by the bus, but that gets replaced with a wonderful little dream sequence that takes Takamine through the stars.

It's just so... good. It does everything right and wonderful and bubbly and cute and sweet. It takes Takamine's desires and feelings as a high school girl and lays them bare to the viewer in what amounts to a fluff sequence.

And why you might ask? Well, like I said earlier it's a subconscious piece of Takamine, so there's lots of things within it. Take the cat, an amalgamation of the cat Mitsumi picked up earlier and Mitsumi herself. And then there's the idea of looking out the window of the bus at the scenery, and within that there's even paralells/similarities to how Takamine saw Mitsumi when she was looking out the bus.

Okay I promise to tie it off here. After her experience in her dream, we see her cutely mistake Mitsumi for the dream cat, before she follows it up with expressing to Mitsumi that she's not the girl that she thinks Mitsumi thinks she is. I think. But yeah, it's a great little scene that shows the confidence Takamine finds in herself from yesterday's experience to face today head on, and create a deeper relationship with Mitsumi in the process.

Even though we're already this far along I feel like there's a world of things to take in. Like how Shima-Kun speaks to expectations and how family bearing down on you can squash happiness and passion as you strive to live up to expectations and earn their affection. Or how thoughtful Mitsumi tries to be at times like not bringing up Shima-Kun's acting career to him. Or how Mitsumi's come to Tokyo to try and change a foundational issue with rural underpopulation in Japan (really, it's a pretty severe issue these days). It's such a diverse and deep story that you can hardly fit all of the good parts into one post. But you can summarize it with a single sentence.

Skip and Loafer continues to prove that it has incredible understanding and nuance in regards to high school life and how it affects students, depicting a wonderfully romanticized story that continues to stay close to the ground and provide important commentary and messages to viewers.

Though I guess that's more like a paragraph, isn't it?

[achoshistor]

[HSR] comments on music structure

i think i lied when i said i was becoming normal. i think its funny how even with the zelda brainrot i know i have like 2-3 people reading it but i feel like no one gaf about these posts LMFAO. i dont think im gonna transcribe anything out yet bc im really lazy

anyways im sure this is all because hsr has maybe 2-3 people that do the music so obviously its gonna sound kind of similar but the one hallmark i keep noticing is this really idk bright/deep (its so embarrassing but i've only studied western classical theory and forgot half of it) bass reminiscent of a lot of older splatoon music (this one has it playing what i hear as the real main melody) which add another layer of harmony to the songs tbh. u can hear it at about 1 min in jing yuan's theme and maybe at about 0:55 in the 2.3 trailer and again its used in fu xuan's theme at maybe 0:55 again which lowkey sounded like " i took a pill in ibiza to me" ngl... (more on this one later); but tbh you really only hear this instrument w/ character themes (esp luofu) which honestly shows characterization thru the music ...(sam feels like an exception bc his theme is very bass driven after all despite not being from any of the xianzhou ships)

the next type of thing they tend to use in music a lot is really driven bass guitar lines... e.g. in bootleg's theme . this follows a pattern where at around 1:15 youll hear a bass melody then around 1:27 youll hear an almost imitation of the melofy which goes thru + builds up back into the main theme where he starts talking again. the concert commercial thingy does something similar but with the melody this time w/ the transition from guitar into a pretty much repetition with various insturments regarding each character (erhu for jingliu, ?? for argenti, then sax for that twink (more on him later)). space comedy does this too with the main melody we hear for herta/belobog then into luofu (i dunno the next thing about chinese theory so i cant really say much there)

anyways back to fu xuan... her theme is one of many orchestrated themes but it mixes it with that edm or whatever element but it still has those orchestral qualites of a really idk harmonic timbre. sparkle, black swan, also do this (more on the dance theme in another post i feel like that one needs more) but onto firefly and aventurine. firefly is actually what inspired this post bc at 0:12 or so that note is the exact same as aventurine's theme opens with. firefly's theme does the same as fu xuan's where it mixes traditional with electronic but with western instruments this time. i think aventurine really belongs with the upper category if not for the orchestral hits going on in the back and the call and response everywhere in his piece which give it direction because otherwise it feels like its going no where; but like before it uses imitation and repetition of past melodies with different instruments to create direction in the piece tbh

ok. maintenance ends soon trust. hopefully by next post i have more knowledge and my nail grows out bc its BROKEN and i cant play any string instruments. gootbye

[melissa-titanium]

more stuff because i genuinely am going to lose sleep over this.

- v and j's dynamic. we HARDLY get to see it. we now know j already had knowledge of the solver. (i suppose this adds an extra layer to j's "sure thing, boss" in ep 6 when cyntessa nonchalantly tells her to watch the ship. but they didn't expand on that so, whatever i guess.) so why exactly did v never tell n and uzi about it? genuine question by the way i cant remember if v didn't know j knew or not

- why did lizzy not give a fuck about doll. like. why does no one talk about this im not kidding. she dropped her so FUCKING FAST

- i feel like cyn and tessa's dynamic isnt explored enough. again though, this would need a lot of expansion on cyn/the solver to even get to this point... but i just wish we saw the gap between heartbeat's flashback (with cyn hiding behind tessa) and ep 5 (tessa's obvious annoyance w/ cyn.)

- how did copper 9 just... bounce back from presumably a SECOND CORE COLLAPSE???? thats what it was, right??? either way some crazy shit was happening then suddenly t he fucking classroom is back where it was. everythings fine now guys

- i need 2 add more. uhm. later

im going to use this as an opportunity to specify. i don't like bitching about this without a purpose. so with that in mind, i think there's some ways this could be remedied. considering this show, at its core, is comedy centric, i feel like there's little wrong with how things were executed in terms of tone, but in terms of things like. pacing. consistency. all that good stuff. stuff i think we can all agree it's quite lacking.

these 'expansions' on the plot aren't sectioned in terms of episode to episode and aren't ordered chronologically by any means. this is solely my own thoughts about how particular characters and scenes and points of the story could have been handled better, particularly ones that i touched on in the above paragraphs.

most general headcanons have been solidified in the fandom for a while in the gaps between episodes (eg, ep 3 & ep 4 -- how did uzi learn her solver abilities so fast? training montage episode between them that we never saw!) so for stuff like, ep 1-5 i won't excessively be touching on.

this is under the assumption that this show can run as long as it wants with as much budget as we want. i won't be splitting things into entire chronologically ordered episodes as i said before, these are just concepts.

- j and n's dynamic. we get a slightly deeper look into the dynamic between n and v, especially with how it grows throughout the series in a meaningful way, but most of th dynamic we see between n and j is. "she's mean. he's pathetic. this doesn't turn out well for n." but like. genuinely, why? why does she behave this way. i'm not among the crazy j mfs (bless u guys) who analyze her to hell and back but my BASIC understanding of her character is that she's prideful, can seem egocentric at times, and has little tolerance for screw ups (but we don't see her enact these punishments onto herself assumedly because of her possible belief that she's got it all figured out?) but has an EXTREME respect for authority. above all, personally her most notable traits are her attachment to j, and her dislike for cyn and n (outside of her general distain for everything non-corporate.) the reason she dislikes cyn isn't particularly obvious to me. i always believed it was because she sees someone who makes tessa uncomfortable & reacts accordingly, but i think her dislike of cyn is a possible rare showcase of disliking someone openly without tessa's approval. N, on the other hand... what malicious deed could he have possibly done to her to make her feel the need to treat him the way she does? is it a power trip from needing to escape feeling so lowly as a worker drone in the mansion, and n is just an easy target? does she think she's doing him good by roughing him up & being rude, toughening his hide by berating him constantly? or is she really just a huge bitch.

WELL! my thought is that... it's jealousy. we see j's respect for tessa, and we see tessa's care for n. sort of like when your parent has another kid and suddenly all of the attention goes to them, except changed around so that every single person involved in the scenario is an emotionally and physically abused child. all in all, the situation is so sad, and i feel like it could have been expanded on more -- because this is ALL just from speculation. i'm stretching a LOT of pieces of canon and filling a lot of the gaps and sewing some of the cuts together with pieces from my thoughts, which is exactly why i think this should havebeen expanded on. not only would it add more depth to j's character, it would add an extra layer to her interactions with n and tessa.

- ep 5, dive deep into v's memories as well. this way we could have gotten more expansion on v's character & how she interacted with j, tessa and cyn -- n too, ofc, but the other three are important too and imo need more development.

- tessa's dynamic with her parents. more expansion on how tessa came to acquire the alphabet gang & cyn. why exactly were they dumped? how did they manage to get their way out of the tradh piles and back to the surface?

- doll. introduce her in ep 1 with her fully established personality. i had a particular scenario concept in which right after lizzys nd doll pass the nurses office, we get a shot of them talking to eachother and we, the audience, notice how freaku doll is. dive deeper into her family, what was her dynamic with yeva? perhaps ep 3 could give her a creepy scene of her hugging her moms corpse and lizzy happens to walk in and its good cause it gives them some screentime of friendship. also ADDRESS THE TOXIC PARTS OF THE RELATIONSHIP. lizzy obviously seems to hold doll to very little regard, making jokes about her DEAD FUCKING PARENTS, switching on a dime when she found someone she considered "better," and not giving a single fuck, not even a LITTLE ONE, when she finds out doll's dead.

- explore the doorman family dynamic more. i know nori's kind of shrouded in mystery until later on, but we could at least have some scenes of khan looking at pics of him and his wife when he argues with uzi, seeing how exactly they interact. both of them clearly miss nori -- uzi craving someone in her life that understands her, and khan, duh, misses his fuckign wife.

ok im genuinely passing out on the phone rn i have more tmr i swear

i have a. lot to. fucking say. about the finale. a lot.

[klance-daydreams]

sleepover for two 🍿🌙🧸

(a space ranger vlogs mini fic)

=========================

"Well, the heater is officially broken. Great."

Lance scratches his head as he tries to work with the van's less than amazing heating and cooling system. Keith crouches down next to him. "And there's nothing we can do?"

"It seems like it." Lance stands back up and pulls out his phone. Keith does the same, but heads back into the van. He plops onto the bed and sighs. He decides to add this little dilemma to their Ranger Squad Instagram story. Besides posting about their actual trips and outings, they post the other stuff like this. Followers love these things, apparently. 

He takes a small video and publishes the story when Lance walks in and lays down next to him. 

"I called a guy. He should be here tomorrow morning." Lance digs his head into the pillow. "Man, why'd the heater break down in the middle of the coldest week ever?" he groans. Keith ruffles the other boy's hair.

"I'm sure we'll survive."

A couple slow minutes pass when Lance jolts and turns over with a suddenly bright smile. "I just had the best. Idea. Ever!"

Seeing Keith's confused daze, he puts his hands in the air and continues. "Let's have a sleepover!"

Keith blinks. "Lance, we've been sleeping over in the van this whole time, in case you haven't noticed."

Lance shakes his head,"Sure dude, we've been sleeping in the van, but we've never slept over in the van! You know, like a proper sleepover! Like we did in high school."

"Like with more pillows and blankets, and stuff?"

Lance nods with excitement. "Yeah! And you know those fairy lights we bought a couple weeks ago, but never put up? Let's put them up! If it's gonna be cold tonight, why not take advantage?" Lance pauses. "We don't have to post anything about it either. It'll be just us."

Keith feels a smile creep onto his face. "Let's do it."

The Sun sets, and the two get ready for bed. They found some extra cushions and strung up the fairy lights. The harsh, white van lights are replaced with the soft, yellow glow from the small bulbs above the bedroom section. It's way colder outside than it was in the afternoon, but honestly with this set up, it doesn't bother Keith as much as it would. 

Lance pulls on a faded red-sleeved hoodie with a sun graphic on it. The piece of clothing was originally Keith's, but Lance wore it once, and after that became official shared property. Keith wears his own navy blue hoodie, layered over his regular pajama shirt.

He crawls into bed, where Lance is already sitting with a huge bowl of warm, buttered popcorn. They have two foldable bed tray desks, one for each of them. Carefully, Keith sets them up so that they can put the laptop in the middle of the two tables. He slides three pillows on the wall so that they can rest their backs, have the comforter cover them whole, and are able to watch a movie in comfort. They shift into place, and now they're close. Really close.

 Lance passes the bowl to Keith and opens Netflix.

"Whatya wanna watch?" He scrolls through the choices. "This one?"

It's some run of the mill romantic comedy, but it's probably the most perfect choice for a sleepover.

"Sure."

He clicks play, and the opening theme starts with a cheesy pop song. Yep, romantic comedy at it's finest. 

More than half an hour passes. The popcorn bowl is swept clean with the exception of a few kernels. Lance's eyes are fixed on the movie. Keith moves a little, and freezing air creeps into the covers. He rests his head on Lance's shoulder. They've done this before, cuddling as they watch a movie or YouTube videos, but this time feels a little different. Maybe it's the lights, cozy arrangement, and the cold that's making Keith's cheeks turn pink. Maybe it's the fact that Keith really likes this. That he really likes Lance. It's probably a combination of all three.

"Hey, 'you cold?" Lance's voice is soft and sleepy. 

"Yeah, 'little bit." Keith nestles his face into the crook of the other boy's neck. Lance slowly wraps an arm around Keith, pressing gently against his body. He melts in the newfound warmth.

"We don't have to finish the movie if you're tired," Lance says, but the notion is lost into silence. The two main movie characters are finally kissing. 

"Nah, s'okay." Keith closes his eyes. "Too cold to move." 

"Alright. I'll wake you when the movie's over then," Lance whispers, and Keith barely hears it.

(By the time that the credits appear on screen, Keith is fast asleep. Lance can't help but to press a light kiss on his forehead. Keith won't feel it, or remember it in the morning, and Lance is okay with that.)

(They end up sleeping together side by side all night long.)

=========================

[firesnap]

Oh did you not like the clip of sotfboy? Do you wanna expalin

Okay, I'm going to preface with this as saying releasing Soft Boy is like ripping a bandaid off. Your New Boyfriend released at the perfect time and, no matter how good a song Wilbur does, the chances of the follow-up doing as well are slim to none. I think he knows this too and has spent two years psyching himself out about this song. It's good it's coming out because I think it's a creative block and hanging over him.

The issue is that I don't know if a very polished Soft Boy actually speaks to what makes Wilbur's music engaging.

Like, I'm comparing here the stripped down acoustic version we got on a stream with Tommy and the clip we got from the Roomie produced final version. It sounds like, rather than just admitting Soft Boy is just a decent song and not earth-shattering, it's a strong pivot into throwing everything at the kitchen sink at it.

Wilbur's comedy music is standout because there's startling sense of homegrown sincerity to it. It's stripped down, even when it's poppy, and has an earnestness to it that plays well into the parody.

Roomie's whole career is about analyzing pop music and what makes a pop song. He can replicate some of the most on trend themes in current pop music. His own music uses those techniques and plays with them. The clip of Soft Boy we heard was, frankly, overproduced. It's too slick sounding with too much going on. It loses a lot of what makes Wilbur's music charming.

This isn't me saying I just want churned out revisions of YNB or Internet Ruined Me. I think when you add layers onto Wilbur's voice, burying with a bunch of production effects, and tweak the song to be more in line with "professionally" recorded music it pulls out a lot of the flaws. There's ways to make a song feel bigger (which is something I think he said he thought the track needed) without making it feel so airbrushed.

[cookinguptales]

I feel like you're the only person on the same wave length as me when it comes to season 4's writing so I felt comfortable sharing. My friend and I finally watched "Freddie" and we both agreed that the writing for this ep and especially this season has felt bland. Like instead of doing clever layered jokes, everything just seems "Fuck, piss, shit". Even the vampire piss line from season 3 felt like it had more build up. Like people like to say this show is the "piss and fart vampire show" but even piss and fart comedies can have clever writing or layered writing. Like in Rick and Morty, the show constantly dog piled on as the stoner/frat boy show can have lines like, "I realize now that I am attracted to you for the same reason I can't be with you: you can't change. And I have no problem with that, but it clearly means I have a problem with myself....But I know how it goes with us. I loose who I am and become part of you".

Like I feel that line sums up Guillermo and Nandor's relationship better then some of the lines in this episode. Like having poignant or well-written dialogue didnt seem to be a big concern this season. Either every line feels like something from a first draft or feels like the approach was "How many times can we add piss, fuck, and shit to this line and make that be the punchline rather then having an actual like....set up."

I agree that WWDITS is one of those dark comedies that is usually very off the wall but that will occasionally just punch you in the face with real and genuine emotions. I think that's always been one of the main strengths of the series, along with the movie and Wellington Paranormal, and I think it's what a lot of people respond to, especially in s3.

I do also think that some of that very layered writing fell apart in s4, especially in 4.09. That said... I actually think there were some very poignant moments in this season, which is part of why I feel so frustrated with the parts I don't think they did well.

Like I really genuinely enjoyed a lot of the stuff about Guillermo's family and his issues with his childhood in this season. I liked him talking about how he kind of had to raise himself and how he wouldn't let Colin go through the same thing. I liked his desperation to hold onto his family even as he felt them slipping away from him, and the way that Nadja responded to that. "Una madre sabe" had me like ;A; I will not lie.

And wow, gosh, I still think about that scene in the alley with Colin and Laszlo regularly. I think it's the most genuine emotion and human (lmao) bonding we've seen between any characters this whole series and it really was very beautifully done -- and it was all the more effective because it was sandwiched between Laszlo dumping the child in a dumpster and taking him to a sexy vampire club.

I also disagree that the humor has been all piss and shit jokes this season. I actually found myself getting much more irritated with that in s3 with Colin Robinson's constant references to shit. I think the humor in general has been a little less creative and so devastatingly smart since the departure of Jemaine Clement (it's a trade-off, I suppose, for a more character-driven series) and so I don't try to hold s3 and s4 to the standards that I do, say, s2.

But I think some of the episodes in this season have been so fucking funny and smart, and some of the one-off jokes were great, too. Go Flip Yourself was fucking hysterical as someone who hatewatches HGTV, and they folded some of that humor in really well with WWDITS. Like the way you just laugh about the natural light because of course they want natural light, HGTV hosts are obsessed with natural light and they don't know it'll kill the vampires -- until wait, yes, you find out that they do. That's just so fucking funny.

Guillermo shoving literal skeletons into his closet when his family comes to visit. "Stop throwing stakes, it's rude!" Laszlo feeding Baby Colin Count Chocula. The Djinn's everything.

Like there is a lot of really genuinely good humor in this season! And I hated 4.09 as much as anyone, but I do think that s3 also had some episodes I didn't love, even if I didn't actively hate them like this one. (Like I usually straight-up skip The Siren; I think it's pretty boring. And I found the whole thing with Meg to be SUPER cringe.)

I guess my biggest beef with this season is that they actually did have a lot of really great ideas. I feel like this season could have been taken in some really interesting directions. But I do think they got distracted by magical shinies and, to some degree, shock value. I don't think they're really tying up their own ideas in a way that I find satisfying, and I'm really frustrated with some of the laziness of the writing on the tail end of this season -- but only because I know they can do better.

I mean, I think that The Night Market was a genuinely great episode. The creativity of the market itself, the excitement and character development you get through the familiar fights, the way the three subplots actually came together to form something fairly cohesive... The humor was great, the action was great, the characterization was great. My only real criticism is that it ended without giving us more of a conclusion with Nandor and Guillermo, and I have a feeling that was largely a time constraint.

So like... I think it's easy to throw out all of season four, but I think the reality is a little more complicated. It's so frustrating that they didn't close up all the elaborate shapes they started drawing at the beginning of the season. It's so frustrating that they used some of these secondary characters as props whose storylines were maddening. It's so frustrating that they don't seem to get some of the creepier implications of what they've written. But like... the reason it's frustrating is because there were good things, too. If the whole show were just shitty, I'd stop watching and be done with it.

But there are good things muddled up with the bad, and so now I've got to go through the somewhat exhausting process of pulling out what I like and deciding what I think about what I don't. I don't have a lot of faith that the finale is going to give me the things that I want, but who knows? Season 5 is another chance to fix some of these issues and I think there's really no way to know if things are going to get better or worse.

All I can do is write way too many words to make sense of my feelings (both through meta and fic) and stress-pour some wax melts at this point. lmao

[spaceorphan18]

Glee Musical Retrospective: Hair/Crazy in Love (Hairography)

Sung by: New Directions Original Artist(s): from Hair Soundtrack/Beyonce feat. Jay-Z

Hey! I'm back! I promise I didn't forget about this project, I just needed to take a step back for a moment. I'm actually really enjoying doing the in depth dive on all the music - it's been pretty fun.

Anyway... oof. This one. This is kind of a precursor to Run Joey Run - in which it is supposed to be /not good/ in a comedic way and, well, falls a little flat. Or maybe I've just seen it a hundred times now? But unlike Run Joey Run (or, say, Push It) it just doesn't have the repay value as some of those other 'bad' performances.

Story Analysis

It's funny - Sue says to Will, later on in the series, that he must have been really tired when he came up with this number. And I kind of wonder if the writers had a moment where they were just... tired. Not every moment in a tv show is going to be the best - and this whole number screams -- this was an interesting idea at the time but maybe didn't work exactly how we expected it to.

The purpose of this number is very straightforward. It's about looking (and I suppose sounding?) crazy. I mean, I can see how it felt pretty ingenious to find a Beyonce song that featured the lyric: "Got me looking so crazy right now" over and over again. And then to mash up with a song about hair... I mean, I can see how the writers thought this was a brilliantly stupid idea when they came up with it.

The 'comedy' I suppose is supposed to be from all the hair swinging around and the ridiculous choreography where the kids are literally just swinging their heads around and prancing around the room. I don't fully get the purpose of the weirdly, overt sexual component of the girls all jumping on a guy and, like, fake humping them. But it did add another layer of crazy onto the already bonkers performance.

[As an aside - the fact that Will came with all of this -- including a moment where the guys are mimicking anal to the girls -- is just, ick. I'm glad he feels shameful during the whole performance. Shame on you, Will. Shame.]

But really - the full purpose of the song is to show how all the hair and the ridiculousness can't really mask a bad performance. And how real music comes from your heart -- a message that will be amplified when the deaf choir sings Imagine next.

Interestingly - there's a whole other tangent to go down about how music has many purposes, and how a there's a place and time for low quality, club music -- and not every single musical number needs to be a genius work of art, but I digress.

Technical Thoughts

Okay. First I want to start off with the fact that this is barely a mash up. There are a few moments where the lyrics of 'Hair' are thrown in, but it's so far removed from the original that when I finally heard the original for the first time, I couldn't believe it was the same music. I get why on paper it makes sense, I do - but I think losing one song nearly completely into the mash up doesn't make it all compelling. And one of the reasons mash ups are so fun is the way the songs complement each other. I'll have to keep an eye out for it - but this might be one of the weakest mash ups the show does.

Vocally, it's not bad at all. Interesting fact - I guess Cory and Mark were supposed to be leads on this, but they gave it to Kevin instead. I agree with that decision - Kevin has a much better pop and hip hop voice and can handle back up Beyonce songs way better. Mercedes is on lead - which is great for the song. Amber Riley sounds fantastic on this, and I'm glad to see that even within early season 1 she's already really working on her voice and it shows.

My one kind of, idk, eye-roll? is the that Glee is still trying to go for realism, and that it's the kids who are creating all the music. But it's fairly obvious that the music is all put through a synthesizer or auto-tuned or whatever or mixed in a way that gives it a more electronic sound. I'm not sure if it's done out of time -- or because they wanted to sound like the original -- but nothing about this performance sounds like a show choir. (Oh - and my usual obligatory comment about how it sounds like they doubled the tracks on the back up vocals again.)

But... despite the choreography being insane - Glee rarely compromises when it comes to sound. At the end of the day, they still want to sell music and make money off it, so it's always going to sound good. (Mostly - there are some exceptions - and boy will I get there :D)

vs. The Studio Recording: It's the same song. Not really anything to comment on. Though - I'll say without the distraction (ha) of the visuals, you can appreciate Artie and Mercedes's vocals more.

vs. The Original Version (Crazy in Love): Other than adding some lyrics from Hair into a few places, they didn't stray from the original arrangement. I can see how the choreography was influenced by the music video, too. But there's a huge difference between the stylized music video full of professionals - and the Glee kids. And yes, I get that it was somewhat intentional for the comedy of the moment and the purpose of the scene but... eesh.

vs. The Original Version (Hair): I linked the 1979 version, because I find it fascinating. You can see some slight influences in choreography -- the way the prisoners are throwing themselves around - feels a lot like the way they incorporate the throwing themselves around in the Glee number.

Also - what even is this musical?? I mean, I read the synopsis -- as a rock musical set in the 60s. It seems absolutely wild, but the song is really catchy, and I kind of wished they had just done this number. Granted, out of context it would make even less sense, but still. Also, I'm kind of fascinated by how hair is seen politically, but that's really getting off point...

Also going to link the 2009 Tony Awards performance (Here) because I wonder if there was influence here, too! I'm sure it was somewhere in Ryan Murphy's head.

[accio-victuuri]

Hi can you provide the link to read manhuas you prefer?

Hello Anon! OMG Manhua/Manhwa Rec! Here we go! I’ve only been reading for 2-3 months (consistently), so this will be pretty limited. I will link to the legit sites. A google search will direct you to others.

Most of these are WIPs and some, sadly, are discontinued. I won’t add TGCF or MDZS here cause those are already a given. 👇🏼

• Body Electric by Dong Ye ( completed, supernatural, lots of trigger warnings and plotty )

Ba Song is the hotshot cop who’s been handed an open-and-shut case: the suicide of a young woman. Except… who commits suicide by stabbing their own body and strangling themself? There's only one man who can help him with this mystery — Bo Shan, the renowned forensic pathologist with a severe and cold personality. What's more, his body produces bioelectricity, allowing him to acutely sense bodily injury with his touch. There's an electric current between them, and each touch sizzles with energy

If you like crime dramas and stories where they solve mysterious cases then this is for you. The romance is subtle, and their relationship is not insta-love. strangers to colleagues to friends to lovers trope. This also discusses alot of issues the society has that will make you stop and think. Ba Song is really the honorable MC in here who always wants to help people and do good. While Bo Shan is the reluctant one but deep inside, he wants to make a difference too. I wish they would make a donghua or live action out of this.

• 30 year old by S-Monkey - ( ongoing, age difference, blind dates, slice of life)

Charlie Wei is a single and handsome executive. He’s also a closeted gay guy who’s been on way too many bad blind dates with women. Charlie’s still hung up on his ex-boyfriend James and is… gasp, 30! Charlie’s family thinks he’s straight and too old to be without a wife! During another bad blind date, Charlie meets the flirty Ethan, who both annoys and intrigues him. Can Charlie finally come out and find true love with Ethan or will he continue on his streak of bad blind dates?

The cover looks melodramatic but it’s really not. This is so funny! I read this because people were saying it reminded them of BoXiao. And yes, there are moments here that remind me of them, but it’s more like an AU of BoXiao. I stayed up late trying to get caught up in the chapters and you won’t realize it cause it’s just that good. I love seeing the older MC loosening up and being more of himself. and the younger one being more responsible in his career. They just become better versions of themselves because of each other. It’s so sweet!

• I ship me and my Rival - by Pepa ( ongoing, comedy, reads like a meta )

This follows the adventures of Wei Yanzi, a third-rate actor in the Chinese entertainment industry, stumbles onto a shipping fandom for himself and another actor (Gu Yiliang) while trying to escape from the flame wars and negativity. He's so taken with this group of fans who actually see him as a good guy instead of an enemy/rival of Gu Yiliang that he falls head-first into fandom and becomes actively involved in trying to provide shipping fuel and the fans' daily dose of fluff.

IF THERE IS ONE thing you will read here, let it be this. It is hilarious. If you are a CP fan you will relate so much and it’s a good time. It just shows how people who think are rivals can actually be really good friends in real life. What we see is not always what it seems. and people will interpret things based on their bias. The MC here is so dramatic! how his inner feelings/reactions were drawn will make you laugh.

• Path to You - by Sinran (completed, slice of life, age gap fluff and comedy )

When almost college dropout Jensen attempts to drink away his problems, unemployed Nathaniel suddenly pukes on him and ruins his night. As an apology, Nathaniel offers to help Jensen with his studies. Despite Jensen's difficulties in getting along with people, the two become friends and something deeper begins to grow between them

The story is so soft. If you want something with mild angst/misunderstandings— then pick this. I love the progression of their relationship and how they take care of each other. There are other themes showed here other than the romance.

• Red Candy - by Hanse (completed season one with a cliffhanger, explicit scenes, assassins )

Shihyeon, aka “Red Candy,” is a secret agent whose code name comes from bathing in the blood of his marks on dangerous missions. Shihyeon’s tasked with seducing and obtaining intel from Hajun, a hot college professor. Shihyeon can disarm enemies, but didn’t expect to be disarmed himself by Hajun’s own tight body. Now Shihyeon’s caught between loyalty to his spy agency and Hajun. Can Red Candy survive the incoming wave of enemies and still indulge in the sweet ecstasy of Hajun’s embrace?

THIS STRESSED ME OUT MAAAN. Wow. I loved this. That season one cliffhanger. It’s definitely up there as my favorite. If you think about it, the tropes are really not original. An assassin is sent to shadow a person and they develop a relationship. That simple. But NOOOOO! There are so many things going on. The Main mystery plot, Their relationship, their shared past plus you have other sketchy secondary characters. And did i mention explicit scenes? Lots of them. I want this two to have a happy ending!!!

• Lone Swan - by Chu Man (discontinued, cultivation, star crossed lovers)

After losing his memory, Yiqiu Shen, a disciple from the decent sect meets a very special man named Luofeng Yan, who is the leader of the evil Divine Wind Cult. When escaping and conflicting with Yan, Shen gradually finds his original self as well as his previous love back. Together they rip off the facade of the martial world and reveal the hidden true

I didn’t want to add a discontinued story here, with no novel as a source material but this one made an impact on me. so. yeah. THE ART. breathtaking. The plot = layered. There are times I don’t even know who is telling the truth. It had so much potential and i hope it will get picked up again at some point. People rec this to those who enjoyed TGCF and MDZS, and they are right. 👍🏼

• Dragon in Distress by Si Wang Wen Hua - ( ongoing, dragons, past life, lost power, fantasy )

This is a story about a little Eastern green dragon and a little Western black dragon playing together.

The synopsis is pretty simple if you look at it but this one is pretty interesting. and surprisingly funny. tinie AoAo is so cute! 🤍 the other MC has tsundere tendencies tho. Lots of lore and more truths to uncover as the story progresses. I’m not giving it enough justice with how i’m reccing it, but if you like dragons and fantasy — give this a go.

• Breaking through the clouds 2: Swallow the Sea - Huaishang (ongoing, based on a novel, crime, drama, cases)

Wu Yu, a newcomer of the Public Security Bureau, is gentle and frail. He doesn’t care about the difficulties posed by Bu ZhongHua, his strict boss, and only wants to stay in the background to be paid on time with enough for food. However, no one knows that this young man’s head is targeted by top drug traffickers for a large bounty or that this courageous young man has once slaughtered the dragon of the abyss. With a chain of interlocking cases, a series of troubles come one after another. Can the two people work together to survive through the difficulties?

Do you see a pattern with me? lol. I like crime themes. This one is the same and by the looks of it, the cases they solve will take longer to unravel. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on yet so i’m just going with how the manhua is progressing. I like it when Wu Yu turns full on action-mode and when ZH takes care of him. Plus it helps that they are both gorgeous. I’ll get back this with a proper link.

• Where the Wind Stays - by Yusa (completed season one, curses, demons, possession, timeskip, explicit scenes)

To break an ancient curse that plagues the royal bloodline, young Prince Tasara is destined to be sacrificed in death. Nara is enlisted as a palace servant to carry out the prince’s execution when the time comes. But he develops a soft spot for the cursed prince, and after committing an atrocious and unforgivable act against Tasara, Nara is desperate to right his wrongs. Soon, their lascivious relationship that had been kept under wraps tests his resolve. Will Nara be tempted away from his original mission? There’s no telling how far he would go to earn Tasara’s forgiveness.

This story broke my brain, in a good way. I don’t wanna say much cause it will spoil the story. It’s the type that you gave to see and suffer through yourself. I am excited for what happens in season II!!!

Honorable Mentions:

I’m placing these here cause I have only read a few chapters and tho I liked them, I wanna read more before reccing it in full. 👍🏼

• I accidentally saved the Jinghu’s enemy

• Global Examination

• Monster entertainment

• Demon Apartment

And that’s it! Hope enjoy Anon! 😊

[talkfastromance4]

when i’m dreaming--calum hood oneshot

yeah so i’m going through something so this is very, very self-indulgent. 

word count: 2.3k

warnings: drinking linked a little with coping, going through a depressive low, best friend!calum

feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

***

Calum notices something is wrong the minute she steps outside. He was about to take a drink of his white claw, but his eyes went to her nails when she pulled Crystal in for a hug. She typically paints them to match her mood and today they’re opalescent pink, barely noticeable but still there. In plain sight but still visible while she secretly wants to be invisible.

She smiles and cracks jokes with everyone she says hello to then when she steps in front of Calum, he sees the sadness in her eyes. They’ve been best friends for awhile now, they’ve shared secrets, stories of first loves and heartaches, their fears, their wildest dreams. But there was always something she kept hidden, tucked away in a box welded shut.

“Hey bud,” she sighs.

“Hey short stuff,” he grins playfully pulling her in for a hug. Her arms wrap around him and he makes sure to give her an extra tight squeeze.

“I’m not that short,” she grumbles in his chest.

“You’re shorter than me,” he reminds rubbing her shoulder with his thumb. Although her arms are loose around him he can feel the tension in her shoulders that she’s carrying.

“Stop hogging her! I haven’t seen her in weeks!” Ashton exclaims and Calum pulls away.

He knows it was too soon to break the hug but to keep up with her own façade he doubts anyone else sees, he does it.

“Hey, you’re the one who disappeared into the desert for all those weeks,” she jokes rising on her toes to loop her arms around Ashton’s neck.

He gives her a big bear hug that lifts her a few inches off the ground, Calum sees her nails digging into her arm as she squeezes him.

“Had to recenter myself, you should try it sometime,” Ashton teases right back. As if she was shocked, she removes herself from the hug then accepts a bottle of Mike’s from Luke.

“I can take something stronger than this, Hemmings,” she takes a large chug regardless.

“Yeah? Like tequila? I got some limes,” he jerks his thumb behind him towards the drink table.

“I said stronger not deadly. You know I can’t handle tequila,” she scrunches her nose.

Everyone else laughs but alarms are going off in Calum’s head.

“Yeah, the floor of my Tesla doesn’t like tequila either,” Michael chimes in with a tray of shots.

“I told you to pull over,” she shrugs lifting up a shot. She takes a whiff and nods in approval at his selected alcohol choice.

“I was going 75 on the freeway!”

“And that’s why I threw up. Ready?” she lifts her glass.

Calum meets her eyes as over the hands of their friends as Ashton gives an impromptu speech about friendship and long rides. He wasn’t really paying attention because when their eyes locked, he saw the panic, he saw the fear of whatever was going on in her head.

**

The next time he sees her is at the movies. Her eyes are darker along with her nails that are now a hunter’s green; camouflaged but still visible. While they’re waiting in line for snacks, he lifts her hand in his and runs his thumb over the color.

“This is a pretty color, I’ve never seen it on you before,” he says.

“Yeah, um…wanted to try something different,” she shrugs. “Do you want the blue icee?”

“Is that even a question?” he raises a brow, and she laughs.

Once they’re settled in the seats the previews start. Calum opens up the bags of sweet and sour treats while she opens the boxes of milk duds. The large bowl of popcorn (with extra butter) is settled between them, long red straws sticking out of their frozen drinks.

Throughout the whole movie, it’s an action romantic comedy, Calum keeps glancing at her. He watches her fingers disappear in the popcorn bowl, her hunter’s green nails appearing black in the dark theater. Calum’s seen enough movies to know this moment is foreshadowing the darkness she’s slipping into. He’s preparing himself for the fall but he’s not entirely sure she is.

**

Two weeks have gone by and he hasn’t seen her since the movie. Their schedules didn’t align so he decided to surprise her with takeout from her favorite Asian restaurant and chocolate cake from her favorite bakery.

When he opens the door, he hears Friends playing on her tv and he finds her horizontal on the couch. The hood of her sweatshirt is over her head, her arms wrapped around her torso, her black nails clutching the fabric.

Calum braces himself for what he’s walking into, sets the food on her counter and crouches in front of her. He pulls her hoodie back a little so he can see her face a bit better, her eyes are distant and staring off behind him.

“Hey,” he says softly then touches her hand. It’s very cold. “Y/N.”

Upon hearing her name does she finally look at him. Her eyes have filled and spilled with her tears in a matter of seconds. He links her fingers through his.

“Hi,” she mouths, her voice barely registering.

“Is this about…him?” he asks delicately.

About a year ago he chipped away at the welding on the box. He knows it involves a guy. He knows it’s about bad timing. He knows it’s about deep emotions.

She nods and the tears erupt more. She buries her face in her hands then adds another layer by hiding in the pillow.

“Nope, nope, hey,” he tugs on her arms. She’s pliant and allows him to drag her in a sitting position. He takes the place where her head was then brings her onto his lap. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” He murmurs and pulls her hoodie down so he can rub at her hair.

She sobs loudly into his neck. Calum holds her as tight as he can, murmuring comforting words in her ear. Her sobs would subside, but he wouldn’t let go until she did. She’s very good at keeping her emotions at bay and even better at keeping people further away from her harbor. She doesn’t ask for help often, she doesn’t open up too much and when she does it’s always the footnoted version.

Three episodes of Friends later, her hold lessens, she gives a big sniff and peels herself away from Calum. He uses the sleeves of his shirt to wipe at her tears and nose.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “I brought food. I’ll heat it up for you.”

She nods and falls back onto the couch. He rubs her knee then heads into the kitchen. When the food is prepared on plates he brings it to her and she takes it, scarfing down the first few bites heartily.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally speaks when her plate is empty.

“I know,” he nods looking over at her until she meets his brown eyes. “It’s okay.”

Calum ends up staying the night, his mind reeling from what the history is with this mystery guy. His thoughts get away from him as he stares at the ceiling above the couch. Was he some celebrity that kept her under the radar and broke her heart repeatedly? A Prince from some far-off country that got her hopes up and crushed them again and again?

He’s tossing and turning until he hears the shower turn on. Sad songs play over and over on her speakers, her voice singing along with the yearning words. Ghostin’ by Ariana and When the Party’s Over by Billie replay one after another.

She’s really hurting.

Calum bounds off the couch and opens the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” he makes sure his voice is a little louder than the music.

A sniff. “Yeah?” her voice is thick.

“Just want you to know I’m here,” he shuts the door and sits next to the shower.

His heart aches when he hears her crying again, the vocals echo and bounce off the tiles. Her sadness fills the room just as it’s filled in the hidden box of the guy who’s making her feel this way.

Four more repeats go by and the shower is finally shut off. Calum scrambles off the floor, sees her tug the towel from the door of the shower. Her shadow figure wraps it around herself and she opens the door. Her skin is red from the hot water, as are her eyes and cheeks from crying more tears. He grabs another towel and helps dry her hair while she stands there avoiding her reflection in the mirror.

“It’s been five years, why do I still feel like this?” she asks quietly.

“It hurts the most when it meant something.”

He left the bathroom after he dried and brushed her hair then waited for her in her bedroom. There’s pictures on her desk from high school. Her and some guy at prom. Her and the same guy a little bit older posing in a selfie on a couch, drunken smiles on their faces. Her and the same guy a little older again posed outside.

This must be from that box. She’s cracked it open and Calum is staring at some of the pieces that have broken her wholly.

“His name’s Henry,” she explains suddenly behind him.

Calum turns to her voice. The drastic change from the happy girl in the photos to the sad girl before him startles him. He remains silent to let her speak or to go into silence again. She moves onto her bed, sitting in the center and tucks her legs against her chest.

“We never dated. But we were always…together. Together in the physical sense for four years,” she continues. Calum joins her cautiously on the bed and listens. “Back and forth always. After every relationship we fell back into each other. He’s the longest relationship I’ve had, and it wasn’t even a real one.

“We cared about each other, and…I think he loved me. Time wasn’t on our side. It was too much or too little, I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Just when I think I’ve let go; I dream of him. Then he’s on my mind for days. And now this time…” she shakes her head and Calum pulls her against him. “I went on socials and I found out that he um…he’s a dad now. And I feel so stupid because that could have been me if we kept what we had. I feel stupid because a part of me wanted it to be me.”

Calum doesn’t fully understand the ins and outs of their relationship, but four years of physical affection and a rock to lean on, that’s a lot of history. He also doesn’t fully understand how this guy didn’t make it official with Y/N. She’s the perfect best friend with a big heart.

Calum wishes he knew her in school because he would have been the one to take her to prom. He would have been the one take her to movies and dinners and surprise her with flowers. He would have made it official rather than keep her guessing.

“I’m really going through it and I don’t know how to get out,” she whispers sadly.

“I think…” Calum heaves a big sigh and kisses her wet head. “I think you’re just cracking the surface of breaking free. I can tell he meant a lot to you and you meant a lot to him. Even if he never said it, you’ll always be a part of him just like he’ll be a part of you. Someone that important won’t just poof away.”

“But I want him to, it hurts.”

“I know it does, sweetheart. I’ll help you in any way I can, okay?”

“You’re so understanding and you’re so good, but I don’t want to cry over another guy when you’re here.”

“That’s what best friends do.”

She turns her head and gazes up at him. He notices the storm in her eyes aren’t as dark, her lips are chapped from the cracking of memories she spilled out.

“Calum, you’re more than my best friend.”

He hears a deeper truth in her statement, and it causes his breathing to quicken. The subtle yet very noticeable flick of her eyes to his lips causes him to react. He gives her a quick peck, but that smallest touch sent an enormous shock through his system.

They settle against her pillows, the kiss wasn’t awkward, but it filled them both with questions. Questions that will be answered at a different time because right now he wants to hear this most vulnerable part of her life. She takes his hand in hers first and plays with his fingers while she talks.

He makes comments and asks questions to try and understand a bit more. Calum kisses her head when her voice starts to shake. Hours go by and the sky starts to lighten, birds are awakening.

“Hey,” she says right as he’s about to fall asleep. They talked all night, but she quieted down about twenty minutes.

“Hm?” he opens his eyes.

“We match.”

He looks down at their intertwined fingers when she taps on his nail. His polish is chipped away from chewing on a hangnail then smiles at the black color. He lifts their hands and kisses their knuckles.

“I feel what you feel.”

“What exactly do you feel?”

“I felt you slipping. I can sense your emotions when no one else can, and I guess I painted my nails subconsciously because I didn’t want you to be alone in the dark,” he explains. She’s quiet for a moment and he thinks she really fell asleep this time.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ll be this bad again.”

“If you are, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

“Cal?”

“Hmm?” he sighs. It’s getting harder to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want her to stop talking. He doesn’t want her out of his arms.

“When I’m dreaming tonight it will be of you.”

**

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame. 

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real. 

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it  was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist. 

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that. 

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face. 

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.” 

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy. 

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.” 

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!”  You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain. 

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager). 

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind. 

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea.  “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo. 

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu. 

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed. 

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face. 

“Y/N?” 

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever. 

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.” 

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?” 

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect. 

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat. 

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long. 

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her. 

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.” 

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.” 

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.” 

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop. 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

[vodkassassin]

Ok let me set the scene: SQQ had grown used to his multiple layers of clothes, and it was never a problem untill the day he and (your closen love interest) decided it was time for papapa, que the twenty minutes of SQQ instructing how to carefully take off his each and every layer. The steamy vibes slowly disapear. The curtains close.

I know you wanted this to be steamy, cousin, but I slapped platonic cucumberplane onto it instead and it turned into a big Mess of Feelings instead of romantic comedy 😅 my bad! @overlordmoth

—

The first time Shen Yuan is forced to attend a inter-sect banquet is memorable, if nothing else. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the event itself, but what happened afterwards.

The food was alright. He’s been spoiled, he thinks, by his adorable disciple’s god-tier cooking, because though the organization committee had gone all out and hired the fanciest of catering staff, the food itself was… he wouldn't go so far as to call it disappointing, per say, but it had been a bit bland when he’d tried it. He finished off his meager plate of appetizers and resolved not to touch any other dish thereafter. He’ll just eat a meal when he gets back to his peak.

Luckily, inter-sect conferences aren’t a constant occurrence. They only happened once every few years, as a way for the many sects of xianxialand to share information and gossip. Shen Yuan has had two years now, to get used to being Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu, and he’s grateful for the extra time he was given to learn his character before he was forced to debut into such a public setting, where Shen Jiu has long-since created himself a reputation.

Much like the reputation amongst his own sect, everyone in the cultivation world seems to know how Shen Jiu had been. Tonight is the first time since his fever (and Shen Yuan’s transmigration) that Peak Lord Shen steps into the limelight and shows exactly how drastically he has changed in character.

It doesn’t go as terribly as he expected it to, honestly.

When he’d first entered the hall, the amount of stares that had immediately zeroed in on him and began dissecting his every movement was… overwhelming, in a way. Shen Yuan is used to stares. He has to be, just to walk around his own peak. His disciples are nosy, gossipy young masters and maidens. For all that they seem to admire and respect him, there is never a single moment when Shen Qingqiu does not feel their eyes following him as he walks from one classroom hall to the next.

The banquet is much the same. Instead of his disciples, however, these are matured (in a manner of speaking) cultivators of sects not his own. Which means Shen Qingqiu has to be on the lookout and watch his own back.

Or he would have had to, had his fellow transmigrator not been in attendance as well.

He supposed he’s lucky, that all the peak lords were required to attend this ridiculous party.

He spends the first ten minutes or so proving to these cultivators that, though Shen Qingqiu has obviously changed, his tongue is still just as acerbic and barbed as it had been before, perhaps even more creatively so now that he’s changed. It puts strained, polite smiles onto the faces of men and women who had approached him in attempts to size him up and find a hand hold for themselves.

Joke’s on them.

As pleased as he is to discover them just as easily taken down a peg or two as his own sect members, Shen Qingqiu grows exhausted of this game rather quickly. Once he sends the last cultivator away with their tail between their legs, he snaps his fan closed with a flick of his wrist and turns on his heel before the next can even think to approach him.

It’s out of character, apparently, for Shen Qingqiu to throw the towel in when the first hour hasn’t even passed. Raised eyebrows and confused eyes follow him as he steps off to the side and sidles up to where the only other millennial in this world is leaning against the far wall of the hall, cradling a cup of tea in his hands and staring at the floor likely in the hope that no one will come speak to him.

As much as he whines that he never gets as much attention as the other peak lords, Shang Qinghua always prefers the sidelines. All the better to remain unnoticed, that he may more efficiently observe their guests without them realizing that the An Ding peak lord’s eyes see far more than any of them could ever think.

When Shen Qingqiu leans his back against the wall beside him, Shang Qinghua gives a startled jolt. His tea sloshes in its cup, thankfully not spilling over, and he raises wide eyes to meet Shen Qingqiu’s look of ridicule.

“Ah….” For once, his friend seems lost for words, and Shen Qingqiu resists the urge to frown at him. “What’s up?”

“If I’m going to make it even a single hour in this party, much less the full ten it’s scheduled for, then I’m going to need someone to listen to me complain.” Shen Qingqiu begins succinctly. “As my bro, that’s your job.”

Strangely, Shang Qinghua seems to perk up at this. He swirls his tea around — and from the sharp scent that wafts upward to Shen Qingqiu’s nose, tea isn’t the only thing in that cup — and casts Shen Qingqiu a cheerful smile.

“A party isn’t a party until you’ve made fun of every single partygoer behind their back at least twice,” his fellow peak lord agrees.

Shen Qingqiu smirks at him.

He snaps open his fan to cover it when he hears a few murmurs of shock from the people who are still watching him like hawks for any sign of difference between him and Shen Jiu. It’s so fucking tiring.

Shang Qinghua huffs a quiet laugh and shoots him a look of sympathy.

“How many bodies do you think you can help me hide before someone notices that guests are beginning to disappear?” He asks nonchalantly, and his mouth curls into a more genuine smile behind the safety of his fan when Shang Qinghua’s shoulders start to shake with laughter.

“Don’t ask me that,” the slightly shorter man breathes out in mirth, eyes bright. “Between the two of us, we can absolutely make it happen. It’s best not to even tempt it.”

“As you say,” Shen Qingqiu sighs despondently, fluttering his fan before his face. It’s beginning to grow a little too warm even in the huge, cavernous banquet hall. That’s what happens when you shove an entire crowd of people into the same room together. It gets stuffy.

The banquet passes a little quicker than it would have otherwise, with Shang Qinghua by his side to exchange quite jokes and banter with. A particular, good-natured target for them both is Liu Qingge, who’s squirelled himself into a different corner of the hall with three jars of alcohol and whose grave glare is enough to chase off anyone who’d wish to speak with him. The poor man just isn’t built for socializing. At least it’s clear that there’s someone who’s having a worse time here than Shen Qingqiu is. It might be mean, but it makes him feel better nonetheless.

It’s nice to have someone who actually understands every meme and pop culture reference Shen Qingqiu slips into his mockery of the banquet guests. The only issue is having to smother his real, genuine laughter when Shang Qinghua comes back at him with something actually hilarious. It would surely rock the cultivation world to its very foundation if Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu burst into laughter in the middle of an inter-sect banquet for all to see.

Even with the allowances he’s slowly acquired for himself in the time since he disabled the OOC lock, his martial siblings would certainly send for Mu Qingfang to check him over.

Still, the comfortable atmosphere of mockery aside, several hours is still several hours, and by the time Shang Qinghua is down to the dregs of his seventh cup of tea (plus the obvious pick-me-up he adds to it), Shen Qingqiu is incredibly fucking done with this entire farce.

Opening his fan to conceal his face, he leans over slightly into his friend's space and quietly says, “You wanna blow this popsicle stand?”

The clear effort it takes Shang Qinghua not to wheeze is gratifying. “Are we even allowed to do that?”

“We’re peak lords,” Shen Qingqiu says, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “We can do whatever the fuck we want. And, speaking as a millennial — who’s going to stop us, really?”

Good thing they’d dissolved into speaking English three hours ago. If someone heard the cold, and graceful Lord Shen verbally curse then he’d probably be forced to undergo another test for possession with Wei Qingwei when they all got home. Annoying as hell, those things. They took hours and he wasn’t even allowed to read to pass the time!

“Point,” Shang Qinghua admits.

“Plus,” Shen Qingqiu raises his fan up a bit higher to hide his entire expression and makes a face. “I, uh…. need a favor, from you.”

Shang Qinghua blinks over the rim of his teacup at him. He stares at him for a long, wordless moment, and then his eyebrows shoot up.

“The peerless peak lord Shen,” he says lightly, mouth quirking, “needs help—?”

“Airplane.”

“—from little ol’ me?”

“Imma gut you,” Shen Yuan mutters, fan fluttering.

Shang Qinghua beams at him. He pushes up off the wall and steps over to the nearest table to set his now-empty cup on its surface.

“Yeah, okay,” the man says.

Appeased, yet miffed, Shen Qingqiu raises his chin up and snaps his fan closed sharply enough to make a noise. “Good.”

They leave. There’s a multitude of stares that follow in their wake, from both strangers and their own martial siblings across the hall, but neither of them pay them any mind, aside from the way Shang Qinghua’s shoulders raise defensively almost on instinct. A nervous habit that the man will probably never rid himself of.

Three minutes later, they’ve closed themselves away in Shen Qingqiu’s guest quarters of the venue — the conferences are to last for at least three days, minimum, so each sect has their own pavilion for the overnight stay — and Shen Qingqiu stands grumpily in the middle of the room while Shang Qinghua collapses against the bed and laughs himself silly.

“Y-You need me to—?” The man wheezes, one hand pressed over his mouth as tears prick the corners of his eyes, his other arm holding his side. “To—?”

“Yes, it’s very amusing,” Shen Qingqiu deadpans, eyebrow twitching. “And what a friend you are, to laugh in the face of my plight. What, do you expect me to ask anyone else? Who would you suggest? Yue Qingyuan? As if! Of course I need your help, idiot!”

“I’m sure Sect Leader would be very obliging if you were to ask,” Shang Qinghua giggles from where he’s curled up on top of the blankets. He waggles his eyebrows. “Very obliging.”

“You disgust me,” Shen Qingqiu sniffs. He tugs at the front of his robes, and casts his friend a helpless look. “Seriously, how am I suppose to get out of this — this death trap?!”

Because, for such a fancy and important occasion as an inter-sect conference opening banquet, the guests are of course expected to wear their most formal robes. And, in xianxialand, formal robes mean layers. Layer upon layer upon layer. And extra baubles on top of that, like multiple-section headpieces and jewelry and gauzy, sheer, bedazzled over robes.

Truly, the opulence and over-the-topness of the cultivation world never ceases to make Shen Qingqiu raise his brow.

“I get what you mean,” Shang Qinghua chortles. “Stop your bitching, bro, I know how to escape these things, no problem.”

He hops up from the bed and makes his way over, reaching for the outside clasps of the over robe without even asking first. Shen Qingqiu does mind, holding his arms out to give his friend better access. Honestly, there is never any dignity lost between the two of them, what with their modern sensibilities. Not that Shen Yuan ever had much dignity to begin with, being a lifetime recurring hospital patient in his last life. As Shen Qingqiu, peer immortal master that he is, however, he at least has to pretend he does.

With everyone other than Airplane, that is.

“Thanks,” he says, grumbling but grateful, as Shang Qinghua carefully but without ceremony shucks off his outer robe and the one underneath it.

The man steps closer after laying those out on the bed, and tugs at the ties of the belt that hold the next robe closed. After a series of finger gymnastics that Shen Qingqiu can’t really make head nor tails of, his friend reaches up and pulls the silk down from his shoulders and reaches a hand inside to pull at the smaller ties hidden within. Which is absolutely ridiculous. Shen Qingqiu had seriously felt like he was putting together a piece of IKEA furniture when he’d originally gotten dressed. Overly complicated, the instructions were all in Swedish, and it was nearly impossible to accomplish on one’s own. But, he‘d done it!

Dismantling it all, however, was another thing entirely, and he thanks whatever higher power there is, that Airplane is here to lend him that hand without any of the awkwardness that someone with ancient Chinese sensibilities would bring.

“Thank god these things are only like, twice a decade,” he groans, leaning back so his fellow transmigrator has easier access to free him of the next stifling layer. “If this body didn’t have that handy cultivation temperature regulation magic bullshit you came up with for that scene in chapter one-hundred twenty, I’d be sweating buckets right now. Next time I get an invitation to a banquet, I’m refusing, no matter how much Yue Qingyuan puppy-dog eyes at me”

Shang Qinghua directs an odd, slanting smile down at the belt he’s working free, nimble fingers pulling and tugging gently at the ties so they don’t accidentally tighten instead of loosen.

“Yeah,” he says, quiet. “... I’ve never been a fan of banquets either.”

Shen Qingqiu holds back a scoff. And then lets it free, because there’s nobody here but Shang Qinghua, who knows him and won’t ever begrudge him for showing actual emotion. “I can’t imagine anyone being wrapped up in thirty layers and expected to socialize with sharks for ten fucking hours and actually enjoying it.”

Shang Qinghua ducks his head down, smile disappearing. He tugs the ties free and reaches up to slip another layer off of Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders, but he keeps his eyes lowered. Shen Qingqiu pauses, frowning at him. Something’s off.

“...Airplane?”

“It’s not that,” Shang Qinghua shrugs helplessly, tugging at the ties of the next robe without much effort to pull them loose. There’s a slightly uncomfortable expression on his face that makes Shen Qingqiu frown deepen. “I actually don’t mind all the layers. My parents dressed me in hanfu all the time when I was a kid in my past life, so I was already used to it before I even transmigrated. The food at banquets is really good, too, and the socialization isn’t so bad once you look at it as just a political pissing contest. Banquets could be fun, really.”

“But they’re not,” Shen Qingqiu guesses, and reaches out to clasp his friends hands in his, pulling them away from his belt. They twitch in his hold, like Shang Qinghua wants to fidget, a nervous tick.

He’s only half dressed at this point, but right now he’s more concerned with the shuttering expression on Shang Qinghua’s face than anything else. “Not for you, at least. Why?”

Shang Qinghua glances nervously up at him from beneath his lashes, only to look back down again and grimace. “They’d be a lot of fun, if I wasn’t… me, I guess? Today is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed a banquet since I first started attending them as a head disciple.”

Shen Qingqiu presses his lips together as his friend lets out a mirthless, unamused laugh. He squeezes the hands he’s holding, and Shang Qinghua‘s shoulders droop.

“It was also the first time anyone’s actually stuck by me and actually talked to me, though, so,” the other finally glances up, an odd and fragile smile on his face as he chuckles weakly. His eyes are shining a bit damply, and Shen Qingqiu locks his teeth together when he sees it. “I guess it makes sense? Banquets are a lot more fun when you’re not, um… totally alone the entire time! Haha…. who knew, right…?”

Shen Qinghua shakes his head slowly. He ignores his state of undress and reaches out to draw his friend into his arms.

Sometimes, Shen Yuan wishes he’d transmigrated into Shen Jiu’s life earlier than he had. Sure, the cons far outweigh the pros, in such a situation, but at least his friend would have had someone in his corner for all the times that their martial family had snubbed him. Airplane may have brought the anxieties and insecurities of his past life along with him into this one, but Shen Yuan doesn’t doubt for a single second that in the decades that Airplane has been Shang Qinghua, they have been made much stronger (and oftentimes crippling) by the actions of the people who are suppose to stand by him and have his back.

It’s infuriating, when he lets himself think about it for too long, so usually he doesn’t. And then it smacks him right in the face, like now, and Shen Yuan feels nothing but bitter resentment toward those people who are supposedly his friend’s martial family.

Shang Qinghua makes a quietly surprised sound, but doesn’t protest. In fact, the other melts against him, hands coming up to grasp at the front of his robes, and he tucks his face into the junction between Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and neck. He sucks in a slow, stuttering breath that makes him tremble, and Shen Qingqiu reaches up one hand to bury into the back of his friend’s hair, curling his fingers into the strands.

“It must’ve been extra rough when the original goods was still around,” he comments quietly.

Shang Qinghua shudders, and then nods his head against his shoulder. “H-He was a real jerk, but usually he was too busy verbally flaying all the guests from the other sects alive, to pay me much mind. Thankfully.” The An Ding lord lets out a wet chuckle.

Shen Qingqiu allows another frown to cinch at his brow as he pets his hand through his friend’s hair. “And none of the others ever…?”

“Why would they? I’m just — I’m just… An Ding.”

Shen Qingqiu tightens the arm that he has wound around Shang Qinghua’s waist, and his scowl depends when he feels his friend shake.

The door opens then, because of course it does. Someone peaks their head in, and who else is it going to be but Yue Qingyuan, looking for his precious Xiao Jiu, who apparently isn’t one to leave a banquet early when there are still guests left to verbally knock down several pegs and cripple the self esteem of?

The sect leader opens his mouth, and closes it. Shen Qingqiu watches impassively the journey of emotions the man’s face undergoes as he takes in the scene of a half dressed Xiao Jiu holding a trembling Shang Qinghua in his arms. Yue Qingyuan’s face is pale and there’s two splotches of bright red on both his cheeks. He looks both mortified and horrified in equal measure.

Shen Qingqiu wraps his arms tightly around the other transmigrator, holding the still-trembling Shang Qinghua to his chest, and narrows his eyes at the sect leader viciously.

“Leave,” he snaps. His best friend doesn’t deserve having anyone spying on this moment of real vulnerability.

Yue Qingyuan beats a hasty retreat. The door closes softly behind him.

Shang Qinghua gives one last shudder, before going lax in his arms, letting Shen Qingqiu hold him up with his strength alone. The An Ding peak lord reaches out his arms to wrap them around Shen Qingqiu and return the hug, clutching tightly at him.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” the man says, voice slightly choked, and Shen Qingqiu swallows thickly. It’s clear that Shang Qinghua is talking about more than just tonight’s banquet.

“Me too,” he says, and finds that he actually means it.