#I think TS is the way to go. I agree with majority.

[byakuyasdarling]

I like how I say “I don’t have an opinion on this!” And then form a strict opinion 12 hours later LMAO

[alarrytale]

I don't agree with your theory that Harry's PR relationships will stop people from joining his fandom and alienate existing fans. The majority of Harries and casual fans/GP don't think his relationships are PR.

I think Sony expects him to be a stadium act until he's in his early 40s and then a legacy act who still tours arenas but doesn't release music as often. He really can't be classified as 'a star that burns brightly and then burns out' after 14 years at the top of the industry, with no sign of anything slowing down.

Hi, anon!

I don't think H's PR relationships will stop people from joining the fandom, but i think he'll lose fans over it, because his fans grow up. Also the older he gets the less attractive he will become to younger people, and his whole selling point is his looks and sex appeal. He needs to find a way to market himself that's more about the music and artistry than his looks and private life. If you're only a fan of H because you want to marry him (which is half of harries), that's not a good foundation to build on if you want a long career. How long has Justin Timberlake been in the business? He's still making music, but no one's listening. Because his marketing was all about his relationship and back and forth with Britney. I'm also pretty sure people won't care about 45 year old TS's boy troubles, so she'll need to find other ways to sell and promote her music. If we take away the relationship drama and the looks, what are we left with that will appeal to fans? Good music, artistry and entertainment is what makes you an icon and legend.

H's thing is doing a PR relationship, making them a muse for his next album, write that album, do another PR relationship etc. I don't know if the general public will care who 45 year old Harry Styles is currently dating and want to hear the songs about his current squeeze. Neither Bowie, Elton, Whitney or Beyoncé have been promoting their music with relationship drama, scandals or cheap attention grabs. Their music and talent speaks for itself. People want to be a fan because they're talented and creative people who make good music.

I agree that i think Sony and Full Stop wants him to be an icon and legend, but they don't have the right strategy and marketing in place to make it so. At some point people won't care who H dates, because they aren’t projecting their own fantasies anymore. The fans are married with kids. Younger people flock to other artists their own age. Older fans doesn’t see the appeal or else they'd be a fan already.

So his image and marketing strategy isn't built for longevity. That doesn’t mean they can't change strategy and rebrand him. But currently they aren’t. At which point will H not appeal to teens anymore and when will his contemporaries not need him as an object for their sexual awakening anymore? I think we're there soon. How will all this impact fandom and his charting? How are they going to assure that H will be able to tour stadiums and arenas at 47 years of age or 60?

[the-real-rain-world-confessions]

I love this fandom but it feels like the 2022 TikTok Warrior Cats community where everyone was yelling at eachother and cancelling eachother because they got pissed off over something not that deep. The majority of people doing that were 12, by the way…

I hate the use of “chronically online”, since it’s used a lot to put down people who a apart of the lgbtq community, but since I don’t want to drag out this note, fucking hell this fandom is so chronically online.

“Fat mod is gourmand fat fetish!!! The children!!! This is dusgusting!!” Okay. Thanks for stating the obvious. You think children are gonna look at that and go “yeah someone jerks it to that” or instead go “hahaha funny my slugcat is fat”??? At least it’s a harmless kink… I’m happy that some people care about the children of this fandom, but the things I’ve seen said about that mod lately is insane.

Another issue is someone gets mad —> arguement ensues (sometimes not even that) —> digs up “dirt” —> “Oh we got it wrong, sorry”

— I’m not excusing the current situation, by the way, and im not an apologist for [can’t do namedrops] but this has happened countless times in similar fandoms. And, no, it’s not just the children in the fandom, (I do agree that they behave childishly, but that’s because they’re children!!!) it’s the adults or very late teens who do ts. And, like in similar fandoms, this will happen again. And again.

.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Why would not releasing an album in the fall because of the US politics be a deciding factor. Maybe hold off the week of the election because that would dominate everyone's attention/twitter memes but beyond that who cares. If I was Harry I'd be more worried about not releasing at the same time Taylor drops TS or Reputation TV. Ttpd dominated the charts for 3 months and if Billie couldn't get her #1 I don't think Harry would either.

I think Nathan Hubbard probably has good information when he says that artists and their teams care.

For me there are a few of reasons why I think major pop acts would want to avoid this US election season. The first is that it creates a very unpredictable environment (as we've already seen). Then there's the fact that what you're trying to say being seen through the filter of current events. I think if you've established what you want to say and that's then related back to politics that can work for you (see Charli XCX), but to be dragged to politics when you're trying to establish what it is you want to say - that's heaps more risky.

Then there's just the vibes - releasing music into a time of particular stress and difficulty is hard. I think if someone had an album that they thought might speak to the current moment (although the uncertainty thing is a problem) - then releasing could be good. But otherwise I'm not sure that the fall has a lot to offer.

I think looking at Harry in particular draws out those risks. If you look at Harry's previous albums a huge part of their success is that he's released songs that speak to the present moment - of how people feel or want to feel - in quite an abstract way. I think this is a very challenging environment for that sort of song.

Then there's the fact that Harry is very bad at talking about politics - and that his audience's expectations for him talking well about politics has gone up. I think there are real advantages for him in releasing in the environment that's not going to draw attention to that.

As for Taylor's versions - I agree that it'd be important to avoid them. But I don't think they'll have the legs of TTPD - so it'll just be about giving them a month - rather than the 3 months needed around TTPD.

[nonsensical-shitposting]

So in your Team Snakerverse au,

How communist is vi?

Is vi like a full on communist or a socialist, or even a democratic socialist, who wants to set up a method of democracy with socialist principles.

All my joking about TS!Vi being a communist revolutionary aside, communism and socialism as we understand them don't exist under the isopteran system of ideological classification, so none of those options really apply to her. TS!Vi's views are kind of an ideological grab-bag, in that she knows something needs to change in a major way, but... doesn't really know what she thinks the best way to get there is? She's toyed with antennalism (bureaucratic technocracy with a focus on massive levels of information-gathering), cephalicism (rhetorically vigilance-centered adhocracy, frequently associated with spiritualism), and thoracicism (vaguely defined, but usually boils down to decentralized egalitarianism) in the past, but she has issues with aspects of all three ideologies, not helped by the fact that the vast majority of her attempts to research them only turned up Podomerintern-approved resources that present the ideologies through a biased pro-podomeralism lens. It also doesn't help that the isopteran system was intentionally constructed to make ideologically "thinking outside the box" difficult, and just because TS!Vi's smart enough to have eventually figured this out doesn't mean she's unlearned everything, y'know?

The only thing Vi's consistently sure of is that she hates the Podomerintern and wants to end Termite imperialism, both in the Bee Kingdom and throughout Bugaria, it's just that she doesn't really know how she's going to get there yet. Remember, the core idea that the Team Snakereverse AU was built around is reversing the "starting positions" of Vi, Kabbu, and Leif: unlike canon Vi, TS!Vi was never really teased or doubted at home and didn't have to kitbash being a functioning independent person, but she lacks canon Vi's certainty of what she wants to do with her life and has trouble figuring out what lens she wants to see the world through. For TS!Vi, joining the Explorer's Association isn't the whole reason she left home, but rather a means to an end that'll allow her to subtly search Bugaria for bugs like her in hopes that they'll help her figure out what to do to bring down the Termite Kingdom's imperialism (the fact that being a licensed explorer means this'll all be on the Podomerintern's dime is just a bonus). TS!Vi's still recognizable as a Vi, don't get me wrong, and she does act very similarly to her canon counterpart, but her issues, her goals, and her underlying motives are quite different.

I think I got off topic there, whoops. To return to the question: TS!Vi's grab-bag of political views are close enough to what we'd call "socialism" or "communism," but those terms don't exist in the Team Snakereverse AU, so TS!Vi wouldn't identify herself as either; if you asked her what ideology she supports, her immediate response would probably be something along the lines of "ugh, what are you, a cop?" (Incidentally, this is also what she would say if you were to ask her about her gender.) She's more politically literate than canon Vi, but the deep subtle intricacies of government and governance bore her and she absolutely cannot stand people who spend more time debating ideological minutiae than actually, y'know, doing things in real life. Democracy-wise, TS!Vi's the specific kind of leftist who'd automatically agree that yeah, of course representative democracy is the best way to do things, duh, but the moment someone disagrees with her politics in a way that pushes her buttons she briefly blacks out from anger as she tries not to transform into a totalitarian despot on the spot- she supports electoralism, but only when people don't vote for something/someone stupid.

[yourmomni]

Crush-2

Word Count: 3k

Your professor released everyone from the lecture and you began packing up your bag. " Hi your y/n right." I looked up and a girl was looking at me with a sweet smile. "Um yeah hi." Her smile grew brighter. "awesome I'm niki I sit 3 seats behind you." I shook her hand. " Nice to meet you, niki." She was taller than me with brown skin and a pretty smile. She looked like someone who would be friends with my sister. Confidence radiated off of her. " I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after class. I don't really have any friends and my boyfriend said I should make friends and you seemed nice so thought why not." She said with hope in her eyes.

I smiled " yes I would love to. I don't have any friends either. " I winced but she laughed. " great." I quickly packed everything up and we walked together down the hall. " So y/n what's your major, I see you leave the library all the time reading science books." I nodded. " I'm an animal science major but I enjoy science so I take a lot of science classes so I read the books to study. What about you." " undecided." She sighed . " I don't really know what I want to do yet I enjoy reading though so I'm kinda leaning towards journalism." I beamed ." Wow that's so cool I wanted to do journalism too but I thought the classes were a little difficult." Niki nodded. " Yeah I think that's why I haven't made the decision yet." I put my hand on her shoulder. " Hey, whatever decision you make will be the best for you at that moment." She smiled at me " You sound like my mom." We laughed and headed out the building.

"I was hoping we could go to the diner down the street. They have the best pizza. My treat?" I agreed and we began making our way to the diner " Y/N wait up." I turned around and Jake was jogging towards me and niki. Without realizing it I started fluffing my hair a little and readjust my bag on my shoulders. I heard niki chuckle beside me. " hey." I waved awkwardly. " Jake." Niki said smirking at him and he tilted his head towards her " what do I owe the pleasure." I looked at them and mentally prepared myself to be let down. What if he's the boyfriend she's been talking about. " Just making friends like jungwon said I didn't know you met y/n." He blushed a little. " more like I ran into." I said whispered

He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket. " I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime." I raised my eyebrow." Sorry I don't tutor I suck at teaching other people thin-." Niki pushed my shoulder. " I think he means outside of school." I looked at him wide eyed. " as in like a date." He nodded . " Yeah a date." I gasped a little. Everything was moving so fast today and my brain was hopping from one branch to the other. " um i-." The words wouldn't come out of my mouth and he was just staring at me waiting for an answer. Niki was looking at us in amusement. " Yes." I blurted out, finally finding the words. Jake smiled and I swear my legs went weak looking at him with his light brown hair and his forest greens shirt with jeans. He looked down for a second and back at me and all I could do was smile back at him. " How great does tomorrow sound?" I quickly nodded. " awesome." " great."

He exhaled and handed me his phone motioning for me to put my number in and I did saving my name in his phone. " I'll text you tonight. I have practice in 10 minutes." I nodded " ok." He backed away Still looking at me. " I'll see you later then." I nodded and he waved ." Bye niki." She waved to and jake ran down the side walk towards the boys locker room

ts

" What I can't believe you said that to him." I exclaimed loudly while sipping my glass of lemonade. Niki covered her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. " Well he started it and I finished it." It was almost past 6 and me and niki were still at the pizza place talking and switching stories about our freshman years in college. " I'm surprised he didn't fail you I heard Mr.kwon was a hard grader but not to that extent." She shrugged. " well he's not so bad anymore, well after our incident he isn't." I giggled at her response " So if you don't mind me asking how long have you and jungwon been together." She smiled and started playing with the napkin in her lap. " it feels like forever but just 3 years." I choked on my lemonade. `` 3 years." She nodded. " Yeah I actually met him in highschool that's when I moved to Korea, people would be rude to me and he taught me to stick up for myself, to be confident." She gushed dreamily stirring her drink probably thinking about her lover. " high sweethearts."

She nodded. " Yeah he's the love of my life, he makes me happy." I never had the time for boyfriends in highschool, instead of chasing love I was always chasing the highest grade in class or running for president of my class. Boys were always the last thing on my mind. Maybe if I was more social back then I would have been able to experience more things.

After dinner, me and niki parted ways. I went to my apartment and she went to the soccer field to wait on jungwon. She wanted me to join her but I told her I had more than enough encounters with Jake for the day. But to be honest I did want to see him but I don't think my heart could take it.

I made it to my apartment and I kicked my shoes off and put my tote on my couch. I sat the takeout boxes in my kitchen and went to my room flopping onto my bed groaning when I felt the warmth of my bed. My phone dinged and I took it out of my pocket rolling on my back.

Jake ⚽ has sent you a message

I sat up panicking a little. I opened the message

Jake: Hey

Y/n: Hey how was practice

Jake threw his towel in his locker slamming it shut, staring at his phone smiling. He replied back to her and put his phone in his pocket leaving the locker room and being greeted by his friends walking towards him. " Hey Jake, let's go get some food. I'm starving." Heeseung asked, throwing his arm over his shoulder. Jake felt his phone vibrate and he immediately fished it out his pocket.

Y/n: make sure you eat after practice you need more energy

Jake can't lie and say that comment didn't make his heart beat faster. She was so caring and sweet, something he wasn't used to. His phone was snatched from him by sunghoon and he started reading the messages out loud. " Make sure you eat after practice. You need to gain more energy ." Jake reached for his phone and sunghoon dodged him laughing. " Jakey has a girlfriend." Niki taunted catching the phone. " You think y/n knows he blushes at every reply." Jay said laughing. Jake's face turned red in embarrassment ." Hey cut it out." Heeseung snatched the phone and gave it back to jake. " immature." He said slapping niki and sunghoon in the back of their heads.

Jungwon smiled in the distance dropping his bag to the ground and niki hopped in his arms hugging him. " at least your not that whipped yet." Sunoo whispered. Jungwon sat her down kissing her passionately. " Hey hey save that for home." Jay groaned swatting them away from each other in disgust

Jake smiled at the couple waving at niki. " we meet again." She said leaning on jungwon who wrapped his arms around her waist. " So how was dinner with y/n did you guys talk about me." Niki scoffed. " narcissistic much." Jake rolled his eyes but a smirk was still on his face.

" What happens at the pizza parlor stays at the pizza parlor but I will tell you that she's new to everything so take it slow IF things work out." Jake nodded." Noted." Then niki turned serious " And." She pointed a finger at his chest " if you ever do anything to hurt her or break her heart I will find you and it's not hard to find you jaehyun and I will make you wish you were never born understand." Jake gulped a little. " Yes ma'am." Then she switched back to sweet niki " great glad we understand each other let's go babe." She hooked her arm with Jungwon and dragged him away.

" She scares me." Riki whispered, scared that she might hear him. " It would be fun to have another girl in the friend group though it gets boring being with men all day." Sunoo said, throwing his bag in Jay's car.

Jake walked to his car and put his duffle in the backseat and tapped his cleats on the ground to get the dirt out. " You should really bring her to the party tomorrow so we can meet her." Jay insisted sitting on the hood of his car " it'll be fun." Jake closed the door. " I don't know guys bring the girl I like to a party for the first date doesn't seem right.""it's not like it's going to be rowdy it's just a couple of girls some guys from the football team niki is coming so someone she knows is going to be there and I'm bringing a date to." Jake shook his head ." I don't know man." He started getting in the car and Jay hopped off his hood to stop him. " ok okay listen after your date you guys can stop by introducing us all we get to know her she gets to know then if it's too much for her then you guys can leave." Jake thought about the offer. "I'll think about it."Jay smiled " it wasn't a no." Jake rolled his eyes at got in his car rolling down the window. "Wait did you say you has a date." Jay beamed ear to ear. " yes I did." Jake smirked knowing his best friend was going to tell him about it later. " Well I'm going to head home and study a little. I have an exam tomorrow morning but you boys have fun getting dinner and don't stay up too late . We have a game next Monday and I need you all in the best shape." They saluted Jake off and he drove down the street to his apartment.

The next morning was y/n woke up happier than ever. Talking to Jake all night and not going to bed until 3 am you would have thought she was going to be exhausted but she was refreshed and excited for the day. Jake was taking her out for breakfast then they were going to go to the flea Market

I got ready and as I was putting on my shoes jake texted me saying he was downstairs. I looked at myself in the mirror and started giving myself a pep talk " Okay you got this, don't say or do anything stupid don't embarrass Yourself." I breathed in and out then opened more door. Jake was leaning on his car waiting for me while scrolling on his phone looking agitated. I frowned my eyebrows walking towards him. " hey you ok." He jumped a little. " oh you scared me." I apologized and he finally smiled at me. " you look adorable." I grinned. " thank you, you also look nice." He flared his jacket doing a 360 turn dramatically. " You like." I smiled, biting my lip at him and he opened the door for me. " I hope you're excited. This place I'm about to take you has the best pancakes in Korea, hands down." He ran to his side making me giggle a little opening his own door.

We drove to the place and it was packed. " Damn it ." He sighed, finding a parking space and looking at the people waiting outside. " Maybe we should go somewhere else. I know a place down the street that's just as good." " no it's fine, maybe the line moves fast, come on." I reach for the door handle but jake stopped me." No wait I'll get it." He ran out the car, opening my door. "Jake you don't have to do this I can open my own door " He shooed me off " nonsense let me be a gentleman." He grabbed my hand pulling me out of the car. He was so charming any girl would go crazy over his actions but you, you were going mental. The eye contact he held as he pulled you out of the car and the wide teeth smile made your heart burst. He held on to your hand as you got into line. You've never held hands with a boy well minus but he wasn't the pda type. It was very nice. " Me and the boys eat here the morning of game day it's a tradition their pancakes come in so many flavors your head will spin." I nodded looking at the people around us eating their food and looking at the big stacks some of them got or just regular ones others had. It was finally our turn to speak to the hostess. " table for 2 please." Jake said sweetly. The girl smiled and blushed while tapping in our request into the tablet. "Okay that would be a 30 minute wait." Jake groaned. ``30 minutes, that's a long time, you can't squeeze us in for at least a 10 minute wait, that would help me out a lot. '' He showed his million dollar. The girl giggled looking at the tablet again then back at jake

I would be lying if I said I wasn't annoyed a little. "Ok I have a spot open in 15 that's the best I can do." Jake nodded. "Perfect thanks jiwoo." He read her name tag and she smiled back. We sat down and I crossed my arms glaring at the wall. "See you being charming is my superpower." "Yeah she definitely fell for it." I grumbled . He laughed, grabbing my hand. " don't worry about my date today, you have my full attention, no need to get jealous." I snatched my hand away and looked at him in shock. " I am not jealous, '' he raised his eyebrows. "Okay whatever you say." A waiter came to grab us and escort us to our seats.

Jake helped me translate the things on the menu and red velvet pancakes caught my eye. " ohh this looks really good I think I'll get this." He nodded. " That's my best friend's favorite thing to get. It's too sweet in my opinion. I usually get the chocolate chip pancakes." I scrunch my nose. " So basic of you." He looked at me through the hoods of his eyes. " hey you can never go wrong with chocolate." He smirked at looked back down at the menu

By the time we were done ordering eating it was already 2 o'clock and Jake was groaning about how full he was. " Jake, I told you not to get extra sausage." I said holding hands as w3 walked to his car. He groaned again. " But they're so good and you didn't eat yours and we don't waste food in this household." I laughed. " I enjoyed the food though the pancakes didn't disappoint." He threw his hands in the air in victory." Yes Jake 1 point." I rolled my eyes and got in the car.

On the was to the flea Market jake played all the songs he had on his Playlist and he singed while I hummed to the songs tapping my leg to the beat looking out the window.i didn't know but Jake glance over and me from time to time admiring the girl he had in his passenger seat. Once he pulled in he heard her gasp. " OH MY gosh they have a plant nursery." You basically jumped out of the car running to the plants that were stacked on the shelf. " AHHH they have strawberries wow its so hard to find strawberry seeds in the states." I pouted. It would be a understatement if people would say I liked plants I was basically a plant nerd

Or a plant mom like my sister liked to call me. Jake caught to me bowing to the old lady who was running the stand. " Hi how much for the strawberry plant." I widened my eyes. " What jake no I got it you paid for breakfast." I fished in my tote for my wallet but jake beat me to it handing the correct amount to the lady. She handed him the plant and he shoved it in my hands." Whyyyyy I could of bought it." I pouted he just smiled at me. " I know but just think of it as a gift. One of many." He whispered the last part in my ear and began walking away. I looked at him and back at the lady. " yall are so cute." She gushed and all I could do was blush and walk away. Jake was looking at a jewelry table that had rings and bracelets on it. " don't you think this would look pretty on me." He but on on his neck turning towards me. I laughed. " yes beautiful." He smiled sitting it back down. Their were so many vendors here that had different things or different types of the same thing

There was food, art,jewelry,plants, even clothes. "So do you like it." He asked with his hands intertwined with mine, swinging it a little. I nodded. " Yeah I just can't believe I've never heard of this place." " So how long have you been in korea." " only 4 years my parents sent me here for highschool said korean education was way better than the ones in Australia." I nodded. " my parents sent my sister to him as well but she was in middle school. I came here after high school on a full ride scholarship." His thumb was running my nickels as we talked, sending electricity through my fingers. " Yeah you are pretty smart huh." I scoffed. " you can say that, I just have a habit of working 24/7 always wanting to be the best at everything." He chuckled " yeah I understand that my parents want me to strive and succeed in everything I do. But that's not going to happen." He bit the inside of his cheek. I saw a flash of sadness go across his face and immediately changed the subject.

"Is there a bathroom around here " He looked up at me "yeah it's right here come on." We walked to the restroom area and pointed to it. " I'll wait right here for you." I nodded walking into the small bathroom. I checked my phone and saw I had 3 text messages from niki

NIKI😇: HIII HOWS THE DATE GOING

I replied

Y/N: GREAT HE'S SUPER SWEET I REALLY LIKE HIM

I used the bathroom and walked out of the bathroom. Jake was waiting for me sitting on a bench scrolling through his phone. " did I take to long." He smiled when he saw me." Yes it felt like you were gone for ages I was growing Grey hairs." I rolled my eyes at him in a playful manner. Ok next let's go mr.comedian.'' We continued walking and observing some more vendors, even buying a couple more things. The sun was going down by the time we were leaving and Jake was acting like a child running to the exit complaining the bags were heavy even though he's the one who offered to hold them. "Did you have fun today." He asked, opening the door I nodded . I turned the radio on a little. " hey I was wondering if we could stop somewhere really quickly?" I looked at him. "Like where." He looked like he didn't want to tell me. " just a soccer event the boys throw parties the weekend before big games so I thought maybe we could stop by and say hello." I shrugged. " sure sounds fun."

Fun was definitely not how I would have described the house when Jake pulled up next to it. People were on the law dancing or playing around red solo cups everywhere and the music was blasting all the way down the street. " This is not a small get together." Jake grumbled under his breath. I looked at him, forcing a smile. " this is going to be…different." He told me rubbing my knuckles.i nodded " but where just going to say hey then we can leave immediately. I nodded again. Seems like nodding was the only response I had.

When we entered the party Jake was holding on to me tight ushering us through the crowd until we made it into the kitchen. 5 boys were scattered around sitting on the counters and just leaning on them. " LOOK WHO actually showed up." A boy said hopping off the counter dapping jake up. They all greeted him as I stood behind him. " OH hello." One said smiling at me sweetly his smile reached his eyes making him look adorable. " I'm sunoo you must be y/n." I bowed and said hello. " oh you don't need to do that a friend of Jake's is a friend of ours." The boy behind him who was a couple of inches taller smiled at me. " Hi I'm jungwon you've meet my girlfriend niki." My eyes widened. "OH your jungwon nice to meet you I've heard great things about you from your girlfriend." He blushed, turning his head in embarrassment. "Hey make way I'm the adorable and single Riki." He winked at me, making my face go hot. Jake jumped at him making his run away. I laughed " Nice to meet you." A taller one with pale white skin looked down at me. " I'm sunghoon." He held his hand out for me to shake and I took it. He was very formal. " hey drop the scary act your not fooling anyone." Jungwon said, making sunghoon glare at him. " And last but not least I'm heeseung." He raised my hand to his lips kissing it and I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling knowing Jake was staring daggers at him. " Okay that's enough back off." He pushed heeseung away from me.``anyways where is jay." I started looking around at the kitchen for some water and I poured some and sunoo appeared next to me.

"You know he's like obsessed with you,never stops talking about you it's annoying."I laughed at his eye roll."Hey y/n I want you to meet someone." I excused myself from sunoo walking towards Jae who wrapped his arms around my waist. " This is my best friend Jay and his date-" Imy eyes widened and so did Jay. " Amilla." My sister looked at my mouth gabbing like a fish. She threw the solo cup in her hand on the counter trying to tug her mini skirt down. Jake looked at us back and forth trying to connect 2 and 2 together and when he did he face palmed. " I forgot that's your sister."

[the1975attheirverybest]

"One thing about Matty is that he knows that we as fans love him." This is actually something I've been thinking about all year and I hope I won't be offending anybody (this isn't meant to attack you or any of your lovely followers/ anons) And this might just be me projecting/ being way too parasocial myself so apologies if this is too negative. I really don't mean to make anybody feel bad but I really wonder if Matty didn't experience some sort of disconnect with the fans this year. Fan culture/ concert etiquette has changed a lot. We already know that going viral on TikTok and thus becoming more famous has been hard on him. He's expressed nonstop that it bothers him that so many fans film during their entire gigs - AND keep trying to provoke some kind of reaction out of him so they can go viral. People have been following the band around and stalking him personally, he's even been doxxed. Then ofc he got this extreme amount of backlash when he went on the podcast and people screaming for him to apologize/ apologize the way they personally seemed best (not saying people's feelings and criticisms weren't valid but I think we can all agree that it was very intense and lacked nuance), then we got very extreme reactions to him dating TS. And while our fans were much kinder/ more supportive, there was a loud majority complaining that we would "lose him" now cause he surely wouldn't be allowed to behave a certain way/ a loud majority trying to trivailize what happened ("Oh well, they were never gonna last, they're too different"/ "Let's be real, it was just sex. They can't have possibly been in love") and I feel that's pretty patronizing? We actually don't know what he felt for her/ hoped for or how it affected him to be dropped so publicly/ unceremoniously. Next we had a lot of fans immediately side w/ Rina when she shamed him in front of his whole industry at a festival he's been hoping to headline his whole life, fueling the same discussions/ outcries for him to apologize (same disclamer as above), Malaysia after-math, fans constantly begging for more social media posts but then getting offended/ finding fault in his posts (same disclamer as above) and even accusing him of predatory behavior because he possibly interacted with underage fans... Fans making up all sorts of rumors about him on twitter "for fun", believing Deuxmoi, accusing him of being in a PR/ fake relationship, complaining about ticketing/ tour dates, getting all anxious and worked up before the start of SATVB, expressing dread instead of excitement for the new show and begging him to "shut up, stop your bits and just sing" (same disclamer as above) fans being rude/ talking over him while he's doing his speeches/ performance art (and I also think he's pretty disappointed that people aren't really "getting it"), fans being so weird and grabby that he decided he doesn't feel comfortable taking off his shirt any longer, constant complaining about his hair/ facial hair, constant complaining about how much he interacts with the audiences, fans having the audacity to complain that he was sick/ tired/ emotional during certain performances... the list goes on and on. Again, sorry if this is all very negative and probably too parasocial (and way too long) but I felt really disheartened at all the negativity and entitlement this year. It was a very hard year for him and whenever I go through a hard time I am much more sensitive/ tend to feel unloved if criticised (however justified). I really hope he still feels loved and like we're "getting him".

No you’re right. Idk I always wonder how he feels because there are moments when he seems to think that things aren’t as serious as they are (like the Twitter backlash) and times when he seems to know very well what the conversation within the fandom is.

I think he gets it. (Tempted to uno reverse his own words and say “he gets us.”) because as much as he’s seen stupid / toxic fan behavior he’s also seen real fandom. Like the Vienna show fans who held up “you are loved” signs and he thanked them for it. And then the fan who asked him “how are you? Like how are you, really??” And he said it was sweet but not to worry. And he always says “we love you guys and we’re still us, we’re still here” etc. and crying cuz he saw a fan cry. I think he experiences both extremes. And it must be a lot and confusing to process because yeah people love you but then there are those who do so for all the wrong reasons and how do you separate those and when do you engage or disengage. Which is why I don’t blame him when he gets a bit defensive or whatever. Bless him.

Not to be weird and start drama but I felt his presence in the room (tell me why I sound like I’m talking about a ghost) at the Baltimore show. Which he said was the best show they’d done. And I genuinely think it’s because we didn’t have that many phones out etc. he and I interacted a couple times so he definitely sees, appreciates, and engages with those fans who are genuinely there for the band and for the live show and not the tiktok discourse. He knows. It’s just a lot to process alongside all the other stuff. Must be hard.

[jewishbarbies]

Italian here. Where the fuck did you read or heard that Italians think of themselves as not white.

I understand that there's ignorance on the matter and it's frustrating having your blog swamped by Europeans -me included- trying to correct you here and there but.

Please. You're being too stuck on your reasons and are straight up refusing to listen. You want us to listen to you and not the other way around, so much that you're talking about things you know nothing of, like... Italians ARE white, and since western Europe is white centric we do categorize ourselves with our nationalities, but I promise we are well aware that the vast majority of us is white and that poc are a minority.

I initially followed you for your anti ts commentary, but your blog is overall getting exhausting. You're so hateful and spiteful about everything, everyday more and more. This is the last time I'll write you I promise. I'll just stop following you. Take care.

I literally don’t care if Europeans listen to me bc that’s not who I was originally talking to, y’all invited yourselves to this conversation and shoved your heads up your asses when you realized I wasn’t going to immediately agree with everything you said. my post was because I KNOW how you guys view race/nationality/ethnicity and I made it because I think it’s bullshit. I’m not going to agree with any of you already! use your brain cells!

you can unfollow for any reason at any time. I really don’t give a flying fuck. newsflash: this is my blog where I talk/vent about things I want to and I’m not here for your entertainment. go be annoying somewhere else.

[xxcr-ativityxx]

okay but you know how we always make janus be the bad guy in most disney aus? well, i was thinking of a princess and the frog au (as i am watching it while completing schoolwork) and heres my character choices and why.

Roman as Princess Charlotte

I chose roman to be charlotte because of the way these two characters act. roman is the "dreamy, fantasy guy" and while supportive of his friends, he is also majorly attached to the idea of romance. charlotte is the same way. she's deadset on finding her prince charming, but makes sure to put her best friend - tiana - above everything else.

Remus as Prince Naveen

i chose remus to be this self centered prince for that exact reason. while remus doesn't exactly show signs of self centered-ness, he does act out in ways that turn the attention on him. this is what naveen does in quite a bit of the movie. not only that, but remus has a musical talent and he'd likely fall victim to the manipulation of the shadow man if convinced he'd be rich with people that loved him.

Logan as Shadow Man / Dr Facilier

now i know what you're thinking - "mj! why would you make logan be the bad guy? wouldn't janus be the better choice?" well, i say to you that that is the point of this post. logan and shadow man have very few similarities, or none at all really. however logan would work as shadow man because dr facilier does act on logic through the movie. dark logic that is seen as manipulation, but logic nonetheless. logan would be great at studying the dark arts and using that for his own benefit.

Virgil as Tiana

another choice that most people likely wouldn't agree with. however, virgil isnt just anxiety or thomas' fight or flight instincts. anxiety can also act as motivation and adrenaline to acheieve something. afterall, roman wouldn't have created half of what he did without virgil being around. virgil is also a hard worker and thus would make a good example of how hard work can bring good things.

Janus as Mama Odie

bet you didn't see that coming! yep, janus would be mama odie. she does voodoo and magic, but for the benefit of others. we see that she tries to help naveen and tiana see what they truly need in the world (though they are dense about it). janus isn't just deceit. he's also self preservation. he has proven that a bit of selfishness is good for you. what better way for him to be self preservant than to be the most respected voodoo queen in the bayou?

Patton as Louis

again, seems to not make sense, right? however, it does. louis is a very great friend that just wants to help despite being a scary looking aligator. he offers to go with them and help them on their journey to becoming human, even if it is risky for him. patton is much like that; he would do whatever it takes to help his friends even if it meant risking his life.

Thomas as Ray

eh.. not exactly the brightest idea in the crayon box, but it does work. thomas is a very musical man, as well as family and friend oriented. he works better when he's working with people he cares about. that's how ray is as well.

Orange as Lawrence

oh? so you thought i wouldn't add 07734 to this list? well, you'd be wrong to assume that. orange would be lawrence because while they're both techincally "side characters", they are much more relevant to the story than we truly give them credit for. orange has made a major impact on the ts sides series to the point i will confidentally say he'd willingly work with logan to bring chaos into this world.

[tenderlyrenjun]

the one with the morning classes

summary: you don’t really want to go to class, and Yangyang half-agrees.

↛ ↛ ↛ psych major!Yangyang x art history major!reader

↛ ↛ older female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, yearning, best friends to lovers/ish, smut (18+) - there is literally sex in every scene, best friend!ten on both sides, study dates, love confessions in bed

↛ word count: 11,9k (I am so sorry lmao)

part one > part two > part three

if you are under 18 and interact with this at all, i will block you

An obnoxious ringing interrupts your day, way too early, and you whine at it, suddenly reminded about the terrible decision that you made last year with the on-call academic advisor: selling your soul to Satan, or, as they phrased it, taking an 8 A.M. class. The default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless right now, even though you have a class at this time every semester.

Still, it takes Herculean effort to pull your hot, sweaty face out of the pillows and actually get a breath of fresh air. You inhale once, twice, then support yourself on your elbows, tossing all your messy hair over your bare back, like a curtain, to draw it away from your cheeks. The sunlight makes you squint, not having given you enough time to adjust to it yet, because laying in bed, naked, is so much more enticing than actually waking up. Unfortunately, the ringing persists, getting louder, you think. You find yourself clawing through the sheets again, in search of that damn alarm. And when you do find it, screen faced down, you hit snooze via power button, giving yourself extra time before class.

After the annoying sound stops, Yangyang leans toward your naked shoulder, his d!ck thrusting in you at a further angle. He kisses the tip your spine with slightly parted lips, peppering more along your deltoid muscles, directed by his trailing tongue. You cannot tell was tingles more – the goosebumps left in his wake, or the blood rushing to your vulva, caused by the nipping at your skin. Yangyang finds a more permanent spot (that would be hidden by a shirt) above your collarbone and sucks deeper for a few seconds. Instinctively, you drop your cheek into the sheets again and swirl your ass up, before propping your lower body on your knees. His groans fall with you, and he nearly did too, but he stands on his hands. You are very aware of his strength, especially now as you close your eyes and he reverses your moves, grinding his hips forward. One of his hands reaches forward to grab your face and finally kiss you. He is slow and head spinning, and he continuously inclines his head at varying degrees to keep the embrace going.

Then, your phone goes off again and you break the kiss.

“We need to get – Oh, God.” Your forehead redirects onto the mattress, and your breath becomes shallow, cracked by sharp whines blurring out the alarm. As far as you are concerned, Yangyang is all consuming, from the way he kisses you to the way he makes you feel. “Ah, right there, please.” He squeezes your ass, fingers drilling deeply into your skin. His touch feels better than a massage, you think, almost loosening up all your muscle tension.

“So naughty,” Yangyang whispers, strongly. He sounds masculine without being so aggressive. It is very sexy of him. You try to show him, too, that he is hot, by reacting more enthusiastically. Unlike him, you say it silently and hope he knows. He replies, slapping your butt again, and smirks when you moan. “Wanna play hooky? You still, fuck –“ His breath drops, voice getting lower, huskier. He propels his d!ck shallowly, at the same pace your mouth widens in an ‘O’ shape. “- remember your manners.”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree. You roll your hips side to side, slowly stretching as if coming out of child’s position in yoga. It similarly feels satisfactory, like an injection of morphine. “We really need to get up. I have class; you ­– shit –“ His thrust pushes you forward, muting your counterarguments. “- you have class soon.”

Yangyang combs your baby hairs onto your opposite shoulder, gently nibbling around your thyroid, and you whine, knowing that you have an easily swayed mindset right now. “It doesn’t sound like you want to get up yet.” He guides your hips like a figure eight motion. His hand comes around front, between your thighs, holding on in a way that allows him to stimulate your clit with his index and thumb. Every movement gets more intense: the speed, the pressure, even the direction of his fingers, as he elongates all the sensations. It feels like he gets bigger too, lunging more alert with his thrusts. “You need a good wake up call, huh?”

You nod, eagerly, biting your lip. “Mmhmm, my morning ritual is, is really long, fuck.”

Yangyang smirks, motivated even more by the double entendre. And the way his tip rasps against your walls, oh god. You ball the sheets into your fists, putting a protective layer between your nails and palm because he gradually becomes erratic. He comes down to your ear, using his lips to bite at it while whispering, “Wanna turn off the alarm?”

“Hmm?” You open your eyes. “Oh, right.” It doesn’t feel like it has been nine minutes. So, after you pick your phone up again, you turn it over to look at the alarm settings, but it is replaced by the call acceptance slider. You blink a couple times and try getting a clearer look – which is difficult, considering that your head keeps bouncing as he grinds harder and harder, and harder. Then, the call restarts. “Shit.”

Yangyang stops moving to glimpse at what’s wrong. His chest brushes against your back and you can feel his erect n!pples graze your spine. You turn the screen at him, contemplating whether to answer it. Thank God, though, that Ten isn’t asking to FaceTime. You honestly don’t know how you would recover from him seeing Yangyang lay naked on you, especially after that comment at the Halloween party about feeling ‘too comfortable’ with him like this.

“I’m gonna answer it.”

“What?”

“I have to answer it,” you argue. “It’s Ten. He’s going to suspect something if I don’t.” The call ends again, and the notification center shows six missed calls. You turn over your phone again. “Shit, he’s been phoning all morning. I have to answer it.”

You partially expect Yangyang to get up. Instead, he comes down, brushing your hair over your shoulder and pushes you into the blanket. You stretch your arms away from him to redial Ten’s number, although your hands (and thighs) start shakily with his moves. The line rings four times before Ten answers, and you sigh, half-disappointed, half-orgasmically.

“Um, hello?” Ten answers sarcastically, on speaker. “Are you ready? ETA 20.” You hear rustling on the other end that sounds similar to Yangyang ruffling your bedsheets. He is trying to get at your t!ts and you let him, propping up into a true doggystyle. Ten doesn’t appear to discern anything, so you keep the phone on mute – which is necessary because you buck your hips at Yangyang, getting his tip angled on your g-spot. He outlines your n!pples, fingers squeezing over your areola. You almost moan again, but Ten reminds you about his presence: “I’m getting in my car right now.”

“Hmm?” Why?

The silence is deafening, all excess noise stopping, until it is just your heavy breaths and small wet noises. You widen your eyes, thinking that Ten discovered your current … entanglement, so you grab Yangyang’s hand, to suppress anymore sounds. It makes you lose balance temporarily, but expectedly he catches you, by the waist. He waist a few seconds, then drops his wrist to your clit, lightly sliding up and down without thrusting his d!ck. You let him continue, panting with your lower abdomen quivering. He has to stop though, because his exhibitionist tendencies might expose you two. You take his hand off your clitoral hood and kiss his inner wrist before sucking his fingers clean. He shudders his hips. You bite your lip. He smiles. Then, he takes his hand back, planting it into the mattress for extra support so that you can actually answer this call, that the two of you keep forgetting about.

“It’s my treat, remember?” Ten tries to jog your memory, nearly shouting. You can hear him breaking through your bubble. It is just that you are a bit distracted at the moment to really recall any memories. You cannot be entirely held accountable for Yangyang’s big d!ck.

Yangyang starts sucking on your neck again, pushing his pelvis slowly into your ass harder, to give you a better reminder: that you are currently being a good girl for him, to make up for being so naughty this morning (even though he also seemed pretty close to ditching class earlier).

“For breakfast yesterday, after the party,” Ten outwardly tells you. Right, it’s Monday, and you often grab coffee with Ten on the way to campus because 8AMs are hell – you have to absorb new information when you can barely see through all the crap in your eyes, and he can barely comprehend his notes from the night before without the morning bean juice. There is some shuffling on his end again, similar to shaking his wrist free of a sweater to get a better look at his watch. It isn’t enough to hide the moan trapped in your throat. So, you try biting your fist as Yangyang swirls his hips, grazing the ends of your nerves. You roll your eyes to the back of your head and hit mute, in order to moan. “Unless you want to walk? I don’t think you’ll make it though. It’s, like, almost 7:20.”

“What?” your voice cracks. You are still muted though, so you un-mute and repeat the exclamation, whining a little when Yangyang tries to get you to orgasm faster, also having heard the time. Hopefully Ten does not notice anything. You think that you were quiet enough to push it off as a complaint.

“I’ll be outside your apartment in 20.”

Yangyang pulls your chin to make you look at him, staring at you to ask what is going on. You mouth a quick explanation: Ten. Ride. Coffee. 20 minutes. He is so close, warm breath enveloping your skin. You take the distance, initiating yet another kiss, essentially in front of your best friend, although the latter cannot hear or see either of you. Yangyang holds onto your chin, possibly afraid of being swept away or falling again. But you have enough support for both of you, and you know that if you fell, he would catch you. So, you kiss him again, and again.

“Hello?” Ten calls into the void. “Did you lose signal again? See, I told you not to choose the shitty complex on Main because the connection is so bad there.”

You put a hand above Yangyang’s heart and clear your voice, turning to the speaker. “I’m still here. Just, hold on a second.” You hit mute again, then turn to Yangyang. “Do you want a ride too?” Yangyang contemplates for a second, and you drop your forehead into your elbow, biting your lip because, after all, he is still inside you, inside your clenching and very aroused p.ussy, where you want him to finish. He nudges your shoulder with his nose and confirms that yeah, he needs a ride. You kiss him a few more times, unsure why, just wanting to be close – something about want to say in his presence, enjoying his presence. He swirls his hips. It feels really good to be with him. “Yeah, so Yangyang is in the neighborhood.”

“Wha-“

“A huh,” you whine, more at Yangyang than Ten. “He just texted me. He’ll meet you – us! He’ll meet us at my apartment. I’m going to get ready now, bye!” you say everything in one breath, hanging up as equally abruptly before Ten could insert his two cents. You drop the phone and turn around, kissing Yangyang deeply. As he returns your affection, you enunciate slowly, “Five minutes, then we have to get ready. Ten is getting too suspicious.”

Yangyang finishes a little bit after five minutes, not that you mind. Non-residents have to get buzzed into your building, and Ten doesn’t have a key to your front door. You indulge the moment, laying on your arm bent under a pillow. He looks at you with all the care in the world, no longer that suave fuck buddy from a few moments ago but a young romantic who caresses your inner thigh and talks big game about all the connections you two have in common, or don’t. Your hand dips to the top of his head, combing a small section with your nails to his ends. Yangyang asks you for the time, and you almost don’t give it to him, preferring to spend time with him here than overanalyzing some stupid thesis statement that you wrote at 4AM. You pout, and pull his phone between the two of you, showing him that Ten will arrive in ten minutes – ironic, you think.

Yangyang approaches your face, millimeters from your lips. He waits for you to flutter your eyes closed, anticipating a kiss, then runs into the shower. It takes you a minute to join him, and when he sees you, smirking, like you have some dastardly revenge plan in the works, Yangyang shuts the glass door, isolating himself in the cold shower. He holds on extra tightly so that you cannot get in. You look hot when you are annoyed though – he needs to annoy you more. It is even more fun to mollify you. He pulls you into the shower next to him by grabbing your ass and makes out with you against the wall for a few seconds, until you start stretching at the lavender body wash on the shelf behind him.

This time, Yangyang finishes first, hopping out to sprinkle the roots of his hair with dry shampoo so Ten does not get too suspicious. If he has wet hair, then it would be obvious that he stayed over. He puts the powder back on the shelf and wanders into your room, towel wrapped loosely around his waist – even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There are a few of his clothes in your closet from all the time you stole them, or a couple mini getaways that you two have taken. After he changes into an outfit that he can actually wear in public, he picks out an extra one of his over-sized shirts and drapes it on the towel rack for when you get out. He knows that you really like his clothes, especially the organic band tees. It is another plus that you share the same music taste. Hopefully, none of his friends catch onto the coincidental similarities.

Yangyang likes that you spend a lot of time in his clothes. They always end up smelling like your lotions. It is comforting and reminds him of all the nights ‘studying’ until 3AM. You know, not that he would actually say it out loud (mostly because he also likes to wear his favorite shirts), but you look cuter than him, in his Kendrick Lamar concert tee. And besides, there is a secondary reason as to why he rummaged through your underwear drawer: he wanted to choose your panties for today. It might be a black lingerie set, but how is he supposed to know the difference between a t-shirt bra and a balconette? :^)

Yangyang makes his way into the kitchen, snagging a mini muffin off the island. With the work out he just had, he needs protein but there isn’t enough time to cook anything, not that he actually could; eh, he’ll end up buying something on campus. He tosses two more muffins into his backpack for later – one chocolate for him, one strawberry for you. On Mondays, between classes, he usually catches you in the student experience center, finishing some last-minute assignments. You always end up pushing lunch until after four, ergo he tries to bring you some snacks, whenever he can. Once, his research methods class got cancelled and you didn’t have any pre-lecture materials to work on, so he brought two cups of ramen. You two had a semi-date then. He wonders if it can happen again, today. Ten interrupts the thought though, before it can develop into a real plan, and he sighs. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps thinking about defining this relationship at the worst possible times.

“Yellow?” Yangyang answers, mid-bite. He shifts the phone to his shoulder so that he can check your notification center for any missed calls. You have three. Ten has been going to voicemail all morning, Yangyang deduces, and if he was Ten, he would be damn suspicious at this point.

“Hi, baby,” Ten coos. “I’m outside. Buzz me in, yeah?”

Yangyang reflexively pouts. “I’m not your baby. I’m 20 now.” Still though, he complies, letting Ten into the building, and his friend is upstairs within a minute – not that it is too far. You live on the second floor.

“So,” Ten sings while glancing around the apartment. Yangyang wonders what for – hopefully, not searching for his secret relationship. Ten closes the door, his eyes landing on Yangyang and eying him down suspiciously, in a curious way. “What are you doing in the neighborhood, anyways?”

“I, uh, bought breakfast at Allen’s coffee, down the street,” he lies, “And I didn’t feel like walking back to the frat.” He shrugs too, trying hard to be as nonchalant as possible.

“A huh.” Ten does not seem to accept it, but he lets it slide when you walk into the room, wearing Yangyang’s t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Yangyang cannot see why Ten would recognize the top because you also happen to like Kendrick Lamar – one of your favorite songs is King Kunta, even though you cannot sing along to save your life. Yangyang finds it endearing that you enjoy rap music, even though you cannot match the flow or pitch.

His gaze is still endearing when you walk into the kitchen, beelining for the last mini muffin. Yangyang catches how intensely he was staring at you, after you blink at him (and Ten).

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” they mutter, looking away.                        

“Okay,” you drawl suspiciously, swallowing half your breakfast. You fold the rest of it into the front pocket of your backpack and pick up your textbook. Yangyang meets your gaze but you immediately flicker to Ten. “Can we grab something at Starbucks really quick?”

Ten stares at Yangyang. You just got coffee for yourself, even though you were coming here? Yangyang waves a hand, unsure how to respond. This whole secret relationship has gone on longer than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing when he first kissed you, the night that Ten introduced you two back in March after Renjun’s birthday party, and not even a one-night stand! He just expected you to make out with him, not give him a blowjob in Kun’s bathroom then let him take you back to his room at the frat.

“What?” You look between them. Yangyang shakes his head, nothing. You stare him down and give in, then turn back to Ten. “I haven’t eaten anything. Please?”

“Alright, fine,” Ten cedes. He holds his hands up in surrender, his keys waving like a white flag. As you all file out the door, Yangyang jokingly asks if he can drive. Ten deadpans at him, protective over the car, and smacks him on the back of his head. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang barely notices when they pull into the drive-thru on 1st, too busy scrolling through Instagram while you and Ten talk about an EDM festival coming this weekend. He only picks up his head when you lean over the gear shift, blocking the GPS from his view (in the middle seat) – he was monitoring the distance to make sure that you get to class on time.

“Can we get two breakfast sandwiches, an iced coffee with 2% milk, and an iced London fog latte, extra pump of vanilla, with coconut milk?” You turn to ten. “Want anything?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows. Neither of them looks at Yangyang, and he lowers his phone, knowing that he is about to be caught in a lie. He didn’t think that Ten would ask anything because of the time crunch. Evidently, he was wrong, and now he doesn’t know how to unspin the lie.

“Who are you ordering all that food for?” Ten asks.

You look at him skeptically, a what the fuck hanging palpably in the air before you point to the backseat. “For the baby.”

“Not a baby,” Yangyang pipes up, voice cracking. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, smiling embarrassed.

Ten turns on his side, back facing the window as he stares between the two of you, ultimately settling on Yangyang. “I thought that you said you already got breakfast at Allen’s.” Ten rotates to you. “That’s why he’s in the neighborhood, right?”

A huh, yeah. Yangyang almost tells another lie but the monitor clerk asks if they want anything else, and they are holding up the line with an empty lane in front. Saved by the bell intercom. Ten orders an extra americano, then you all persist through the awkward silence until reaching the front window. You pay with the app as Ten passes out the round of drinks like a bartender. Yangyang pokes his paper straw through the lid. You can’t baby him if he does everything himself first.

“Uh, are you good?”

Yangyang looks up. You have your iced latte between your legs, holding it at the top of your thighs on your crotch like an ice pack.

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ten enunciates, putting this drink in the cup holder, “people only put ice on their private parts when they’re sore.” He widens his eyes, posture stiffening and he points at you. “Did you have that guy over? The best y-“

“You don’t –“ You hold up a hand, physically interrupting him. Yangyang should have known that Ten would never seriously suspect him as your fuck buddy; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “- have to repeat it. I just feel sore.”

Yangyang smirks at that, but he has to hide it when Ten looks at him, pinching his cheeks down like a Tim Burton character. The look in Ten’s eyes is confused again, and he knows that one of two questions is going to come out: if he met that guy that you’re sleeping with, of if he is the guy that you are sleeping with. Fortunately, Yangyang sees the navigation touch screen, and the time is two minutes until eight and you are five minutes off campus. Ten has to drop the conversation and speed to the art building so that at least you get there on time. The extra few minutes he has to spend alone with Ten gives him the idea to cool things off with you for a few days.

That sounds bad, like he is blowing you off, but honestly, you agreed.

Yangyang caught you in front of the communal office space for linguistics GTAs, a few minutes before office hours ended. He snatched you into a supply closet, dragging you by the waist, and covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming bloody murder. You two acknowledged the thin ice that has been melting for a couple weeks now. And he brought up taking a break from seeing each other for a while. At first, you thought that he was breaking up with you – or as close to breaking up as possible, because still, you are not dating. But then, he saw your face and reassured you that he does want to keep seeing you, even in secret; maybe next time, you two should talk about your relationship.

Friends do not need to see each other every day, you know. Or, like, at least, casual friends don’t. Sure, you FaceTime Ten all the time and Yangyang lives with Xiaojun so he sees his best friend daily by default, but you two are not similarly close friends, especially not when other people can perceive how you two interact. No one has to know just that you see Yangyang just as often, in person. And you do it because, well, because you like him – which explains how he ends up back in your bed by Wednesday.

“I’m gonna be late again.”

“No, you won’t.”

Yangyang reaches around your collarbone, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip until he can comfortably hold your jaw. He draws you in for another kiss, his eyes mirroring yours - distracted, enamored, aroused. You cautiously spin around, throwing your arms around his neck to avoid getting swept away, which seems impossible because he holds you securely, at your mandible and the beltloop on your waist. He inhales upon the next embrace, closing his pretty mouth over your philtrum like a slow bite – like several slow bites. You meet him, every time, at the end of each kiss when he shifts onto his toes, getting too tall for your lips, and pull him back on the ground to get more. He moans, after you start roaming your hands under his shirt, running your nails over the crevices in his body like a memorization technique for an early class you don’t have.

You feel hungry, for love, wanting to feel warm. The sun will not rise for another half hour, but he is the warmest thing in the room, even though you are fully dressed, not expecting to be late like two days ago. He copies your moves, unbuckling his hand like a belt, sliding it under your shirt and palming your b.oobs. Then, you squeal, giggling breathily, when he spins you around again and smacks your ass, pushing your thighs into the mattress that you two are standing over.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in your ear, sucking upward on your external jugular vein.

“No.”

Yangyang stops, deadpanned. He hits your butt again, like a punishment – his favorite kind of punishment, it seems because he repeats it every morning like a bad kind of player, the rich one who goes to bars and unexpectedly falls in love with an attendee, as if it is a coming of age Netflix movie. He repeats it again until you fall on your hands over the bed. You look behind your shoulder at him, jaw dropped. And he takes no time to interpret it, stumbling next to you.

You roll over, led by your hips, so that you can match him, latching onto his face with your hands on his cheeks. “Of course, I trust you, dummy.”

He looks down still, picking at the seams of your jeans. And you detect his teasing tone, easily, because he goes directly to your inner thighs, tracing up along the thread until he reaches your zipper. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, then make him look at you. He has that kicked-puppy expression in the way the outline of his eyes falls below his eyebrows, but the glint and the gummy smile have you knowing otherwise. “Yes.”

Yangyang pops your pants button undone, mischievously pulling his lips into a dramatic pout. “And you’re not lying to me?”

“No,” you emphasize. You brush his hair back, scratching your nails along his scalp, behind his ears. His smile cannot help itself, breaking out in a way that has you completely immersed. It reminds you of that time when you went go karting with Ten and a few others. You were undoubtedly a bad driver, bumping into the track walls, even during the straight lanes. One time, you made a particularly excellent sharp turn, surpassing Johnny to the finish line. Unfortunately, you were completing lap 3 of 5 and him 5 of 5, but Yangyang still congratulated you afterward – in bed. He also lit up, when you two were just laying under the covers, staring at the ceiling because the stars were too far away. You held onto the arm around your waist, laying on his naked shoulder as he told you about wanting to be a race car driver as a kid, then an automotive or aerospace engineer as a teenager, before he settled on psychology. He kept talking, as if crafting this beautiful galaxy. That is when you knew.

“Prove it.”

“What?” You sit up and straddle him. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Yangyang starts begging for affection, slithering his hand down your stomach, into your underwear. He pulls you into his chest, giggling when you topple him into the pillows, clearly not having estimated the force. You like that you never have to beg for his attention. He always, for some reason, notices you, and it is so hard not to pick up on it. You wonder just how no one has learned about you two yet. It’s not like you are being subtle. Although, the smallest acts he gives you can be found under subtle in the dictionary. Like now, he tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze flickering from his hand across your cheek to your eyes. You kiss him again – only a brief peck, because he inserts two fingers inside you, making you gasp sharply enough to break.

“Can I confess something?” you ask, suddenly braved by an idea to prove that you do trust him.

Yangyang stops fucking you, his fingers flexed still. He scans your face for an actual lie but knows that he will never find one, mostly because he already knows the next few words out of your mouth; he has felt the same way for months. And maybe, at this point, he owes you some explanation, for keeping his own confession unspoken. He wants to give it to you first, before your own declaration. It is something that he thinks he should do, like a societal norm for the guy to confess – that is what all the romantic movies say, right? Well, there is Princess Leia and Han with their whole I love you and I know dynamic, and while that was really cool in the scene, Yangyang has a fixed scenario in his head.

“I love you,” he blurts, quickly, sitting up.

“You love me?”

His heart drops. You are not supposed to surprised. He was nearly 100% confident that you had fallen in love with him, too, but this might confirm that so much was in his head. You keep staring at him, jaw slacked and hands on his shoulders. Only when he starts pulling away do you react, catching his hand.

“I really like you,” Yangyang reiterates, self-pouring salt into his bleeding heart. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should even be vulnerable again, but what does he have to lose? “I –“ He swallows, still looking into your eyes – “I love you.”

Then you kiss him.

And he lets you kiss him.

He lets you kiss him because of the way you cradle his face, like he is made of glass, like he is the most precious crystal that you have to protect. Your lips get softer when he wets them with his tongue, after feeling confidence in your embrace. You kiss him in a way that takes away the word the love, wrapping him in a security blanket to return the warmth.

“I love you,” you whisper slowly, barely audibly enough for him to hear it over the smack of your tongue as you lower to him. You pause, mouth slightly ajar on his. “Too.”

Yangyang peers at your closed eyes, almost willing you to open them so he can tell you, again, that he loves you, so he can see your reaction when he really tells you. He grabs your face and sits up again. You roll your head to the side, like you anticipate his kiss. He gives it you, simultaneously returning his hand into your pants.

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it right now?” Yangyang asks you with a sense of urgency.

You turn around, fumbling around for your phone, which is now somewhere mixed in your sheets. The two of you had spent a good ten minutes remaking the bed after the night you had, and currently, blankets are strewn across, folded into messy piles. With the thought distracting you, Yangyang slips two fingers past your underwear again, twisting the crotch area with his thumb for easier access. You pause, sighing heavily, hand bunching up the linen as he scissors you.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, slightly stuttering at the end, hesitant to add a term of endearment. Even with the confessions you both just gave, it does not define your relationship and he doesn’t know how to broach it just yet, only wanting to kiss you closely and hear all the love sounds that he feels deprived of.

“It’s 6:21.”

“Good,” Yangyang whispers in your ear as he prepares you to take him. “We have time.”

Yangyang redirects your face to his, tilting your chin up as he leans to the side, almost inhaling your lips. Upon another kiss, he adds his tongue, tired of the light pecks. They don’t express his affection as much as he wants, because small embraces end quicker, causing you to withdraw – which is the furthest desire from his mind, especially considering that he just confessed, multiple times. He curls his tongue, placing only the tip beyond your lips. You check him, trying to catch his tongue but merely snagging his spit. He smirks because you whine again. Was that not enough? Obviously not, he notes after you pull back, breathing on his lips, making him chase you. Your breath sounds rapid and rough, and he wants to alleviate your nerves. Yangyang extends his neck again, craning to meet your lips. He gives you a second to recover, to prepare, panting the faintest ghost kisses across your lower face. Your hand comes above his shaking heart, stopping there as you bite your lip coyly. He wonders if you want to stop. Both of you just acknowledged a lingering more-than-friends adoration.

But then you slide your hand under his chin, making him really look at you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

The repet!tion exceeds his own confession, and he isn’t sure whether to confess again, but you take the initiative for him, rocking side to side like ridin’ d!ck bicycle. Yangyang parts his lips just enough to blow small, uneven breaths. He feels you open his jeans while shifting over one of his thighs, his fingers still trembling inside you. Sex with you always feels so reciprocated. Your nails graze his c.ock erect, your hand tightening at the tip, where you push your thumb on his pre-cum. It gives almost the same sensation as your tongue and the sensation gets more intense. He starts thrusting in tandem, making you clench, around his bicep, for support. When you start flicking the flesh on the underside of his penis (the part that connects the shaft to head), he stops your hand.

Yangyang comes forward, caressing your mouth and massaging your clit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum,” you taunt him, smirking into the kiss.

Your resolve temporarily falters, dripping into a moan that he swallows up wholly. He keeps sinking his fingers at different depths, at a fast and shallow pace, waiting for you to reach the same point. You certainly feel wet enough. He touches that spongey tissue area in your p.ussy that has you seeing stars. You moan his name over and over again, until the two syllables become a tongue twister. He disentangles your tongue, using his own. All those years tying cherry stems in his mouth as a teenager really paid off. He starts making a come-hither gesture, simultaneously flirting with your lips. After your hand ceases, exclusively squeezing his base, right above his balls, Yangyang slows down, slipping his fingers away from your G-spot, up and over your clit, your orgasm weakening.

“Ugh,” you grumble.

“We have time,” Yangyang tells you, “to have sex.” He looks at you through his eyelashes, gradually lowering his head under your shirt, his shirt. After Monday, he wondered if you ever owned any shirts yourself, or if you donated all of them once you ‘discovered’ his closet. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t know whether to clown you or flirt with you. The first option would make you laugh, but the second would get him laid. Luckily, you decide for him, shimming out of your jeans and panties, then you slide his pants down to his ankles. He wraps his hand around your throat, drawing you to his lips, and he unintentionally squeezes when you settle on the tip of his c.ock. As you ride him, your walls hug his d!ck nicely, giving it a nice tight feeling that he can’t help but moan at. You straighten your back to gain some height over him and slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands reach out to your ass, guiding your hips forward in waves. He starts breathing heavier and his grip gets stronger.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Yangyang kisses you, pulling your words into his mouth, “So cum.”

“Fuck.”

He chases after your high, under the guise of helping you ride out this orgasm, getting his d!ck to twitch deeply inside you. When his hold gets too firm, you whine, suddenly over stimulated. Your nails dig into his bicep roughly, barely soothed by the t-shirt he still wears. He thrusts asynchronously with you before coming undone and dragging you into his chest. You feel warm and sweaty in this post-sex glow, your hand and head resting on his chest. He traces little hearts on your inner wrist, not wanting to let you go completely.

“You need to stop picking my underwear if you’re just going to destroy them,” you joke, kissing him on the cheek. “I have to double wash these thongs you know.”

“Can we –“ Yangyang swallows a lump in his throat. He feels like he is pulling you impossibly close, even though you are not moving away. “Can we go back to that thing you were saying earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“The,” he pauses, indecisive whether he actually wants to bring everything up right now. He ultimately decides for it. “Part with the ‘I love you’?” He knows that his voice sounds smaller than normal and that his eyes are shifting nervously at yours, but he wants to hear it again, wants the validation.

“Right,” you understand, nodding your head equally slowly. You straddle his lap again, and he immediately balances you by the waist, wanting to keep that impossibly close distance. “I’m – I’ve fallen –“ You swallow, looking away, but he needs you to look at him. Because if you can’t say it to his face, how does he know that you’re not just saying it out of obligation? Thankfully though, you see to be on the same wavelength, returning to his eyes, and his breath hitches, abs shaking in anticipation. You confidently give him the sentiment, “I love you.”

Yangyang tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way his fingers finish, stroking along our cheekbone. “I know,” he whispers coolly, leaning into your ear. “It’s hard not to love me,” he changes the subject, “I’m the best.” You scoff and push his chest, but he fastens an arm around you as equally fast, smiling too wide. He is a little sorry, for ruining the moment, but his laugh isn’t convincing at all. “I love you too.”

Sex, you think, feels infinitely better once the weight was lifted off your chest, once the spoonful of love was added. And the way Yangyang keeps kissing you, absolutely obsessed with holding your waist, tells you that spoonful is a misnomer, too small. The measurement for an entire ocean might be a better description. Still though, you would never call describe sex as love making, especially not to his face. At that point, you would be faced with an ‘oh, my god; that’s disgusting, man’ – not that you mind entirely, because the teasing smile he uses is so, so important to you, and sex feels just like that – the love part, not the disgusting thing. Although, sometimes he can be quite disgusting, yanno. Ah, he just makes you want to skip class and stay in bed beside him all day.

Except, both of you know how bad of an idea that is, with midterms are right around the corner.

Despite that, he spends the night at your apartment again, staying up until 3AM even though he has abnormal psych at 8 on Thursdays.

“I need a study break.”

You roll the cover of your design textbook towards your spiral notebook and toss the pile onto the floor, kicking the blankets off your feet. Yangyang barely spares you a glance, too absorbed in his case study. It is the last of five, and he only has the results, psychometrics, and summary statement left to write for this one before he is completely done for the week. Similarly, you have an exam on Joseon architecture later today and you are a third of a chapter away from catching up on reading, but honestly, fortresses get annoying to look at, especially when you have to compare militia structures against lower-class housing. So, you infiltrate Yangyang’s personal bubble, sliding an arm over his hips and your head into his lap.

“Does this mean I have you join you?” he teases, already putting away his pens. He pushes all his study materials by his feet, never leaning too far up, to keep your head in place. It gets even more comfortable when he relaxes again, resting across the pillows. You close your eyes, melting, when he massages your scalp, like he immediately knows where every knot or corner of tension are.

“I would really appreciate it, if you joined me.” You sigh. His touch is heavenly, and it makes you tighten your arm over his pelvis.

Eventually, Yangyang goes back to his homework, this time reclining in a way that lets you curl into his side. And you aren’t actually asleep, just mildly daydreaming with your eyes shut, thinking about literally anything (Yangyang) other than structures. When he raises a book midair, in front of his face, you move positions, sprawling across his chest, leg coming between his thighs. You (purposefully) annoyingly stick your head under his cheek, to ensure that you, at least, moderately block some of the passage.

Yangyang giggles. “Am I officially joining you now?” He puts his papers on your nightstand and wraps an arm around your shoulders, luring you to his lips. Your leg slithers above the waistband of his joggers, and he helps you straddle him again, sinking into the mattress to get a good view of the way you look in his oversize hood, in only his oversized hoodie. “You’re clingier.”

“Than what?” you ask innocently, rubbing his shirt fabric along his chest. You start pouting, as a response to his silence. Does he not want to cuddle? You shake your head. No, he does, given the way he pushes up the hoodie and yanks you further up his lap. “We cuddle the same amount.” You lower toward his ear, holding his neck in place, and whisper, “Do you not want to? Because I can leave.”

Before you can even think about getting off, he kisses you, sitting up. “Don’t go.” His hands come under your ass, squeezing as your arms circle around his neck. “It’s just –“ He bites his lip, suppressing a whine, which you can feel clog his throat. “You can’t sit on my lap like this. I’m getting hard.”

“Again?” you taunt. He slaps your butt, rather harshly, leaving a warm tingling sensation that he kneads away. You grind into his touch and kiss up his neck. “We can try the Pomodoro method.” You blow into his ear, shakily, as his hand presses particularly rougher. “I’ll set a timer for 25-minutes.” You look at him with chaste, despite the way you are purposefully making his blood rush. His fingers move to the edge of the hood, lifting it slightly. “Think we can have fun in just 25 minutes?”

“Mmmhmm,” he agrees early, nodding his head forward to kiss you. You don’t let him meet you though, not that you think he really noticed, what with being distracted by your very naked legs. He slowly sits up, all the way, and you feel his d!ck twitch against your thighs.

“Or do you think we won’t be able to finish?”

Yangyang throws you onto the bed and removes his shirt in one fell swoop. “Bet?”

“Missionary?” you ask, almost sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re getting more vanilla.”

Yanygyang gasps, then whacks your butt. “Take that back!”

You prop yourself on your elbows, eying all the naked parts of him up and down, from his low waisted briefs to his well-defined pecs to the rather cross sulk on his lip. “Make me.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes away your smirk, displaying it across his face. You tilt your head to the left, expression slacking blankly, but you catch on, feeling his fingers outline your sides. He slips his thumb between your lips, pushing it slowly until you basically give him a finger job, like a preview to the actual head he wants. “You’re already prepped.”

Your eyes flicker up, purely, as if he is about to ruin you for the first time. It’s his favorite part whenever you blow him – you looking into his eyes, taking every inch of him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your lip down until he lets go, your lips smacking together. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling empty, even though neither of you have really done anything yet. “Are you going to fuck me then?” Your voice sounds so harmless, now lacking the bite as you mentally anticipate his d!ck to stretch you open right now. He shakes his head, no. “So what –“

Yangyang spreads your legs a little wider, strictly, darting in the direction of your main bullseye point. His touches remain light and teasing, not getting there yet, responding to all the little mannerisms that make your lower body so rhythmic. He rubs a finger, swirling the ends of his movements to get your hips riding his digits. You whimper breathily, voice cracking at such a high pitch. He sweeps your bottom lip, pressing his tongue softly, making you wish that he would fuck you already. It is insanely evil, for him to give you a preview of the intense foreplay without actually doing it, barely giving you the imagery of it all. You clutch his shoulder, to steady him for a constant kiss and to actually get on his slender fingers. But he never lets you. Instead, he pulls you by your ass, one-handed, forcing you to roll your hips on the silhouette of his d!ck. Fuck, how can you even feel his c.ock? His joggers are so thick. He maintains the stupid, inhumane taunts, kissing the air between you two, caressing everywhere along your hole. A few minutes pass without him changing the routine, so you reverse the positions, throwing him on your mattress and straddling his lap like a stripper. And with almost the same level of experience, or confidence (you hope it’s confidence), you seesaw over his d!ck. He swiftly locks your arms around his neck and his behind your lower back, palming your ass. You look into his eyes for a second, then kiss him roughly, smashing your lips on his.

“You’re. So. Eager. Today,” he says, muddied by elongated spit noises. His eyes are flittered closed as he smiles smugly, accepting your style of manhandling. Your embraces are light and rapid, doing everything in your power to prevent him from straying too far. But his abs get too shaky, too firm, the familiar build up washing over him, so he has to pull away. When he does, you try chasing him and he brushes your hair behind your ear, slowly stroking your jugular vein like ticking baby hairs. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.” You peck his lips, now sitting sticky on his lap. He looks so pretty, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. You just have to kiss him again.

Yangyang bends your back to the comforter, guiding you by the throat, simultaneously pushing his pants mid-thigh, c.ock bouncing more freely. It slaps your p.ussy, naturally twitching aroused. He is so close that when he pumps himself a few strokes, his knuckles rasp along your clit and you buck your hips for more touches. You feel his wet tip run along your slit, and you just know that his hand locks above his balls, right around his base, ready to push in. But you stop him.

“Let me ride you,” you pant, slowly opening your eyes.

He nods his head enthusiastically, and you pop off his head. You turn around, back facing him as you take off the hoodie, leaning down to graze your n!pples on the blanket.

Yangyang wails. “That’s not fair. I want to see.” He takes off his pants, to be as equally naked.

You redirect his attention back to your p.ussy, using your first two fingers to pinch your clitoral hood and gently tug it up and down, over his d!ck as you back into him. He lets out a loud moan at the sight; it takes everything in him to not thrust, listening to your command ordering him to wait. You brush your hair over your shoulder again and look at him behind your shoulder, sultry. Your mood changes are so sexy. His body moves automatically, hunching over your spine to litter you with kisses, his hand trailing behind his saliva. You take that palm and put it on your t!t as you grind his c.ock between your ass cheeks, sliding it to the most sensitive nerves of your p.ussy. He aids your building orgasm with two fingers, leaning his metacarpal inside of your thigh to rub circles specifically under your nub.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, walls throbbing in a vacuum of emptiness, needy.

You sit up and push him onto the pillows by his chest, then reach behind to grab his c.ock erect. His breath thunders, encouragingly. He waits for you to do something, scanning your bare back for every little love bite and mark. You slowly descend and use your knees to bounce, ass swirling between his thighs. Your hips oscillate from outward jumping to figure eights, to rocking sideways. And his favorite position seems to be when you take all of him, gyrating shallowly, letting only about an inch leave your p.ussy before you slam back down on him. You mimic his slaps, taking your hand off his inner thigh to grip your ass, dragging your nails up, leaving a tingling sensation. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head, recording the moment in his brain forever, then slaps your jiggling flesh several times. This position gets his big c.ock deep within your p.ussy, causing his balls to bump against your labia. Then he starts thrusting with you, pounding his hips up.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yanygang. Mmhm.”

He copies your expletives, adding some bad girl’s and other lewd nicknames, before slamming with some finality. You think that he is about to cum, but he withdraws, making you whine sharply. Yangyang flips you onto your back, immediately attacking your chest. His hands support you like a wired bra and shakes them, pushing the pads of his thumbs into your sternum so that your hardened n!pples remain level with his mouth. He licks one lightly, circling around the areola, then latches on, sucking with his tongue flattened under your skin. You arch your back to him, drawing him close. He repeats the action on the other, but longer, as he pinches and kneads your b.oob.

“Come on my d!ck again, you dirty little girl,” he orders, voice low and hoarse.

“Then stop pulling out,” you whisper, similarly breathless.

“Okay.”

You lean away from him, supported with your hands on his thighs, spinning your hips in circles and side to side. His hands squeeze your waist, jostling you to his chest brutally.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, teeth barring before he kisses you again, croaking the moan in your throat. He drags you close, fingers digging into esophagus so that his tongue and reach inside.

Your grip scratches on his triceps, pink lines haunting his skin. You keep bouncing up and down, until his chokehold drops. His mouth falls open, releasing strings of curses after gasps. He spanks you hard, twice, then grips your ass, jerking it savagely. You change the motion, grinding in tiny, little, miniscule circles. Your thighs shiver, your entire body following. He rotates his d!ck, thrusting asynchronously. And you claw through his hair, tugging the strands rougher and rougher as your abdomen keeps tightening.

“Almost, almost,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

Yangyang pulls your bottom lip with his teeth. “Me too.”

You begin slowing down, no longer able to bounce up and down, choosing to rock back and forth. Then, everything stops for just a second, your walls compressing his springy c.ock until you break. All of his muscles grate against you, making you feel each ridge and movement. He follows your orgasm, feeling the way you milk every drop out of him, sucking his entire length balls deep. Your whine sounds like a treble, harmonizing with his lower moan. And you two spend another moment in cowgirl position, collecting your breaths, basically fused together.

“I love you,” Yangyang repeats. Ever since yesterday morning, he has been throwing out the sentiment spontaneously whenever he can: during sex, after sex, while cuddling, in the middle of study dates, behind his cup of coffee at the physics café in the afternoon when no one else is nearby. He follows up with another confession, “I want more than 25-minutes.” And it catches you off guard, considering his previous statement and the other, in the midst of sex, or love making, as some people would call it.

“The 25-minutes is just for right now,” you reassure him, gently patting his cheeks. “We have to study. I still have part of a chapter left to read.”

“Then say it back.”

You pull his face to yours, brushing your noses together. “I love you,” you tell him slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“So, spend the night at my place tomorrow,” he requests. His arms come behind your lower back, his eyes pouting like a lamb.

“Of course,” you answer impulsively, immediately going to kiss him after. Then you pull away, stopping him on the shoulders. “Wait. You have roommates. You have six roommates.”

“Four,” he corrects you – Sicheng graduated last year and moved in with Yuta. “We’ll be fine. Dejun is going with Kun to some conference; I don’t remember what. Hendery is staying at an AirBnB before the EDM festival this weekend. Lucas is …” Yangyang bites his cheek, trying to recall his roomates’ schedules. “I think he’s going on a date. I don’t know, but he bought roses and they’re sitting in the fridge. And Renjun … Renjun …” Yangyang swallows. He almost forgot about the tidbit that he learned at the Halloween party last weekend.

“Renjun what?” you ask, pecking him lightly and chastely.

“Won’t be there either.” Yangyang stops you. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You sense the serious tone and straighten up, clasping your hands around his neck. “What’s up?” you prod slowly.

“Did you really like him?” he questions so softly that you almost do not hear him. “Renjun?” he clarifies after you stay quiet (even though it was just a few seconds).

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, not entirely sure if you even want him to hear you, the ambience settling into something melancholier. “But I love you.”

It seems like he ignores you.

“Why didn’t you get with him?”

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, pulling back, your eyes painfully dry. All the fuzzy spots from your orgasm earlier connect the dots in your head, and you wonder what this is, if he doubts you, doesn’t trust you.

But he agrees, “You’re right. I just … I mean, why are you with me instead?”

“Instead?” you ask. You come back to him – it’s always him, and you hold his face, making him look at you. “I’m not with you instead of Renjun. There’s no compet!tion. I love you,” you enunciate the confession again to really emphasize it.

“But –“

It doesn’t seem to stick. And you sigh with your entire body, slumping away from him. “Does it really bother you that much?” You shift around, biting your lip while his soft c.ock scrambles inside you. He meets your eyes this time, scanning your pupils for more reassurance. “You are kind and smart and hard-working and insanely talented, and … and I love you.” He stays quiet, and you almost throttle him, needing a bit of affection too. “Say it back,” you beg, differently from minutes ago. You drop your forehead on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yangyang seems to understand and reciprocates, “I love you too.”

You pull yourself to face him and beam, mirroring his tender gummy smile. Then, you kiss him again, toppling him into the pillows. He rolls you over, causing you to giggle loudly as he peppers small bites along your cheeks, across your nose, and whispers the same confession on loop.

“I love you,” he ends, kissing you deeply. He comes up for air, inhaling sharply. “So, stay the night with me tomorrow – tonight. At my place.” He brushes your hair away from your face, to get a better look at the sweet glaze in your eyes. You think that you fall in love a little more, especially with all his domestic acts.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.” He nods his head, smiling wider, if possible, and kisses you over and over and over again.

Funny thing about Fridays: Yangyang doesn’t have a morning class, doesn’t have class at all actually; meanwhile, you have another art history class, at eight. The damn class is 90-minutes, so it is held three times a week. His lectures, you recall bitterly, go on for 2-3 hours each, granting him the three day weekend that every college student desires, pushing his classes to the first four business days of the week. That means he can stay up all night Thursday to Saturday, gaming for long hours into the night – not that you get to see it often, because when you do stop by the frat house, you spend time with anyone else. And usually, someone is visiting at the same time. You know, you write yourself into Xiaojun and Sicheng’s pool compet!tion, or watch moves with Lucas, but tonight (really morning, considering that it is 1 A.M.), you sit with Yangyang in his wide gaming chair, thumbing at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (BotW) while he plays Overwatch with Haechan and Jeno. Thankfully, you don’t have any major assignments due later or any in-class presentations, so you can just curl up next to your boyfriend and pull an all-nighter, stealing snacks and drinks from his new mini-fridge so that you can avoid accidentally bumping into one of his roommates. Although, you Uber’ed to his place with a box of friend chicken and side dishes.

After the same gold lynel kills of Link for the third time in a row (the one in the Hebra region, outside the shrine, that has a sword you want), you lazily toss the controller onto his desk. Dying again and again gets frustrating, and you need to relieve the buzz. So, you turn to Yangyang, who looks to be in the middle of a campaign (is that what his levels are called?), and start asking him questions about his video game. Like, you know how sometimes people get so desperately horny that they ask their partner to explain Overwatch to them? Yeah, that is exactly how this feels, as Yangyang’s distracted voice describes his location and next move. And it is no wonder that he is a psych major – he is good at communication.

“What does that character do?” you whisper-ask, while the screen refreshes after he wins a battle.

“That’s an attacker.”

“A huh,” you nod along. You vaguely know what that means, based on the t!tle and all your years of the Club Penguin Card Jitsu game. “And that one?”

Yangyang removes his headset to around his neck and faces you, grinning sideways. “Are we sharing interests right now?” He pushes your legs apart, then straddles you over his thigh. His desk separates you and the game, pressing a fine line between the bones in your spinal cord. He turns the microphone down, muting himself from his friends. It is one thing for the two of you to be alone in the frat house and another for his close friends to physically hear you in his arms. “Or are you just needy for my attention?” Yangyang pulls one hand on your skin, rubbing small soothing circles. “That’s a sign of a relationship, you know.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “Like a date.”

You push him against the chair cushions, scrunching your nose at his laughter. “As if we haven’t done that already,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes for emphasis.

“What?” he asks. “Go on a date?”

You nod your head. Neither of you really call these types of things dates, but they are. Sometimes you also hang out in public, alone, maybe holding hand or kissing, even though lately it seems like you stay inside and study and have sex all the time. Actually, there is a rave going on this weekend with one of your favorite DJs – one shared equally by the two of you. You have yet to invite Yangyang, but now seems like a good time.

“You don’t really care about my games,” he pouts, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you agree, pouting with him. “I don’t speak nerd.”

Yangyang gasps, sitting up straighter. “It’s not a nerd thing! It’s a game of strategy!”

You shake your head, still not understanding. “I don’t speak virgin either.”

He slaps your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Am I supposed to be the virgin, in this scenario?”

“Are you becoming a born-again virgin?”

You shrug. “What would you do if I did?” You completely straddle his lap, scooting up his thighs until his d!ck sits at attention between your abdomens, and you whisper in his ear, “Would you leave me?” You bite his ear, softly licking the external side then blowing on it. “Would you ruin me? Take it away?”

“Virginity is a social construct,” he reminds you, growling. He slips his hands into your underwear. “I’ll ruin you right now.”

Except, another round on his game loads, and you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder opposite the microphone so that he can play, despite the insane wetness soaking your underwear right now. Then, two more games go by and you want his attention. He asked you to stay the night with him, and this doesn’t necessarily feel like that. So, you get off his lap, slithering down his legs onto the ground, onto your knees.

First, you untie his pants and spring his d!ck out. It’s not difficult, because (1) he has pyjama bottoms on, and (2) he manspreads like a motherfucker, giving you easy access. Then, the blow job starts. You lick your palm a couple times and angle his tip in your mouth, starting soft. His legs tense momentarily, making you consider stopping, but a hand appears, pushing you halfway down his length.

“You look so pretty down there, angel.”

He obviously did not actually look at you; you know because he usually makes eye contact when he is close to cumming, enjoying the way your eyes glass over. And because his keyboard continues clicking.

You continue on that way – keeping one hand squeezed halfway down his d!ck; hollowing your cheeks, adding extra suction all over his tip; flattening your tongue on the underside and rolling it like sushi at the very top. Despite his d!ck being fully erect in your mouth, his attention is less than enthusiastic, fingers working diligently on those numbers. It gives you an idea. You start bobbing your head faster, in tune with his typing, egged on by his compet!tiveness. And when his voice goes up an octave, your grip gets tighter, only slacking when you drop back down halfway. His groan echoes in your ear, sounding like he lost (whatever that means), so you pull off. He breathes a little bit harder after the smacking sound falls from your lips, preceding all the fluttering little kisses down his shaft. You hold his d!ck up and lick one stripe up between his balls, and he shouts at his friends:

“Alright! I’m done for the night. Play tomorrow. Bye!”

Yangyang pulls you to your feet, standing with you. He scans your eyes, pulling you closer and closer, debating whether to kiss you or not; he never really kisses you after you suck his d!ck, unless he eats you out too.

“Bed now,” he orders you in whispers, patting your butt a little too hard. You fall onto his queen-sized mattress stomach down, bouncing with his fluffy duvet. He kneels next to you, lifting his sweater off your thighs and spanking you again, three times. Each smack precedes a loud, high-pitched gasp. “You’re so needy.”

“Fuck,” you mutter at a particularly hard hit, his hand slipping to the wet p.ussy lips that need some friction. “Is that a bad thing?”

A door shuts loudly down the hall, making you two straighten up in attention. You prop yourself forward on your elbows, staring at the door. Yangyang watches your reaction, his ears alert and back facing the door. You hear Hendery walking up the stairs, something jangling with him, like keys or plates. A second pair of feet march with him, making you look at Yangyang. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head; he thought everyone was going to be gone this weekend, which does not apparently start on Fridays for his roommates.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” he whispers. This is nothing new. The two of you constantly fuck, like rabbits, regardless if anyone can hear you, but Hendery is two rooms down and Yangyang is sliding two fingers knuckle deep until hitting the urethral sponge. His curling has your thighs tensing to the point of shaking. As he settles between your legs (not letting up on the pressure), he taps your sternum twice, telling you to keep still and quiet.

But you moan. It just comes out, not something that you can control. Especially when he nips all around your clit, lip biting at your skin and sucking small bruises. He keeps going like this, nodding his head for more vibrations everywhere except the most sensitive spot. Your breath gets more labored, breaking loudly.

“You need to be quieter,” he reminds you.

“Mmm, I can’t. You’ll have to move slower.”

Yangyang speeds up his fingers. “Not a chance.” He swipes his thumb across your clit once, then twice, then harder, giving it a little pinch. “Even if you cum, I’m still going.”

You whine, disagreeing. “Mmm mmm, you can’t say things like that. Fuck –“ He starts crawling over your body, peppering light touches along your stomach, around your b.oobs, above your collarbone. “- I want to cum.” You mewl, again frustrated, because he pulls his fingers out. He gestures you to shush, putting them in your mouth. With his hands occupied around your face and throat, his d!ck jostles, sliding between your p.ussy lips without actually entering. “Please,” you beg, “I want to cum so bad.”

“Ugh,” Yangyang moans in your ear, this time guiding himself inside your warm and aching hole. “I know,” he tells you. “I can feel it.” He rotates onto his side, propping up one of his legs to get into an easier position where he can pound you better. You grab one of the pillows, briefly arresting it with your nails acting like handcuffs before settling it under your oblique. The new angle puts Yangyang right back at your G-spot, his tip abusing the sponge harshly. “You’re milking my c.ock, huh? You’re – You want me so bad, huh?”

“Mm hmm, yeah,” you agree. His gaze fixates on the way your ass claps against his pelvis. He doesn’t even have to lead you anymore; you start backing up on him, motivated the rougher he tugs your hair. “Please, please,” you chant in whispers. He spreads your cheeks, obsessed with the disappearing act you pull, needing to see it more.

“Fuck,” he groans. He cups your b.oob off the mattress, supporting the other one with his arm, and pinches at your n!pple, swirling it around between his thumb and index finger. “Come on, pretty girl. You need to cum?” You nod your head fervently, face warming intensely. “So, cum on my c.ock. You can do it; come on.” He drops your chest for your neck, pushing your head into the blankets so he can kiss you again, incoherently vibrating broken praises on your lips.

“Yangyang, Yangyang, I’m – I’m – Harder, please. I’m so – Oh, fuck.”

He moans your name seconds after, spilling into your pulsating core, and relaxes, chest falling into an equilibria rhythm with yours. His c.ock softens, finishing its workout, so you swing your leg away from him and spin around, placing a hand on his chest. You stare at him for a little bit, like watching the sun set. He peaks an eye open, then closes it quickly, teasing you because he knows that you saw it.

“You’re going to get cross-eyed staring at me,” Yangyang jokes.

“Then let me get cross-eyed,” you counter, slithering an arm under his head like a neck cushion.

“That’s disgusting.”

You scoff, pulling on the ends of his hair. “You’re disgusting.”

He smacks your butt lightly. It is definitely his favorite punishment. “And you can call it a kink, fyi.” He opens his eyes in time to see you pout, and in return, he pecks your lips, pulling away just as fast.

You look over his shoulder at the time: 2 A.M. and bury your face in his chest. “We need to stop sleeping so late. My body can’t handle this.”

“My body can handle yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though he would not be ready to go again, at least for twenty minutes.

You chew on your lip a little bit, then repeat a post-sex tradition (well, it has essentially become a tradition this week). “Can I ask you a question?”

Yangyang kisses your shoulder, wrapping a leg around yours to keep you locked nearby. “Of course, anything.”

“Do you want to go to the rave with me, this weekend?”

“Like,” he processes, still hidden the crevice of your neck, “as in a date?” He lays across your arm, and you notice the glint in his eye. “Are you asking me out? I was supposed to do that!”

“Oh?” you return the tease. “We can just not go then, and I’ll wait for you to ask me out.” You start getting up, but he drags you back down, tugging specifically on your hand. He kisses you as a confirmation that yes, he wants to go; he wants nothing more than to go on a real date with you.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Majority of people friendzone VMIN, even though they're clearly sweeter/softer compared to other ships. But do you think, JM and V likes it that way? I mean, bec people friendzone them, they can somehow freely do anything with lesser suspicions. They can getaway with handholding or any other actions that can seem "too romantic" for some. What do you think?

This is a really interesting question and we’ll admit we’ve thought and talked about it a couple of times before. And we agree. Especially if you take Friends into consideration which, on a marketing and PR level, was a genius move on both Jimin’s (and Tae’s) but also BHs part. By giving the song such a name, it validated certain people’s opinion that “they are just friends”, highlighting the age old agenda of downplaying vmin interactions, as a large portion of the fandom do, so that now, like you said, they can hold hands or do other cute things together and they don’t have to worry about anyone suspecting anything, besides maybe vminnies but in comparison there are far fewer of us. We’ve seen countless instances where the comment section under a cute/soft vmin picture or video were filled with “awww they are such cute friends” and “aww they remind me of me and my sister” type replies, while if you look at similar pictures/videos of any other two members, the comments are filled to the brim with “awww boyfriends” or “x and x are so married, look how cute they are”.

The thing is that, in a way, Friends and the “vmin are just besties” agenda have fulfilled several different purposes, besides being a song that celebrates their bond (being the primary point of it all). What we mean is more about how by “confirming” vmin as “just” friends, it gave certain people a sense of security, as in that vmin are no longer a “threat” to their fantasies, but also a feeling of security that “if they are just friends than that means they are not gay and I can continue liking them and B/TS” (yes, I’ve seen such comments and they left me feelings very yikes as well). And those are just a few examples.

Let’s look at the way Friends was performed at BangBangCon. Jimin and Tae wore their former school uniforms, had dumpling props, and the stage was designed to mimic the bus stops for their school but also where BH used to be. Through this they’ve essentially created this vision and idea in people’s minds that “aw they are such cute school friends” (you can find comments like that on all possible sns platforms under any and all vmin content that reaches past just vminnies). They knew many won’t go read the lyrics and thus won’t know how meaningful and deep they are, most just heard a happy, upbeat song along with seeing that stage performance, and voila the “vmin friends” agenda is thriving.

But, in the grand scheme of things, even if some of this might sound a little harsh or stupid (which it is), it makes sense if you remember how private Jimin is about his private life (here’s a great review of Friends that goes into detail about Jimin in this context), how he rarely shares anything truly personal with us, and he himself once said that he doesn’t like sharing his favorite things and people (Winter Bear or “Go play with your hwarang hyungs”). Tae might seem a bit more open when it comes to gushing about Jimin, and yet even he still chooses his words very wisely, carefully, and says just enough for us to understand what he means yet without giving away any too specific details. So, by creating Friends and playing into that idea that some in the fandom already had/have, they’ve created this kind of shield for themselves behind which they can hide and feel safe, at least to a certain degree. They can do and say a lot of things, and yet no one really pay attention to it, like Tae asking Jimin to come sleep next to him, which has a variety of implications, very meaningful ones at that. And yet most have already forgotten that, or not even noticed that being said to begin with. 

Remember that song Tae shared with us on twitter? About the umbrella? How he wants to protect his love with an umbrella? Which is also a motif that shows up on the cover of Snow Flower as well? Friends and the “vmin are just besties” agenda are like that umbrella. 

Also, I (Admin 2) don’t know if you’ve noticed this but occasionally/often times when Jimin initiates some form of physical contact with Tae, he tends to look as though beyond the camera like he’s trying to see if it’s okay or if he isn’t going too far, you know what I mean? Or that time at MOTS ON:E at the end of EGO where Jimin was playing around with Tae yet straightened up and pretended like nothing happened the second he realized they were on camera. Or during the Break the Silence: Persona movie commentary when Jimin was laughing and threw himself toward Tae’s lap, he turned his head toward the staff and cameras, thus remembered they are not alone, and quickly moved back to his spot on the sofa. That makes me wonder if there aren’t also people at BH who control/oversee this aspect of things as well when it comes to vmin, while not necessarily doing the same things with other members. If maybe the whole idea behind it is to keep the main ships going while “hiding” (and by that I don’t mean that ridiculous theory of hiding one gay ship with another because we all know that’s stupid) the one that is/has potentially to actually be real as to not ruin it or pull it onto a level of potentially coming across as just fan service or boys being silly with each other as well.

To sum all of this up, we agree and we think that Tae and Jimin are surely in favor of being friend zoned by most since it means no one (or at least fewer people than with others in a similar context) is trying to push themselves into their bond, to pry at their privacy and do with them what they do with others, as in create some kind of warped version that has nothing to do with the truth or reality. Besides, even if vmin are real, it doesn’t change the fact that they are best friends/chingu as well. So really, it isn’t the kind of drag or downgrade people might think it is since really, the strongest romantic bonds are built on deep friendship, and it seems like Tae and Jimin have built themselves a very strong foundation, one that the notion of friend zoning them will never be able to shake or break. After all 95z is love.

Thank you for the great question!

[butwhatifidothis]

So @nilsh13​ decided that I was in need of torture today and sent me a take about Claude that quite frankly blew my ass out with how absolutely wack it is.

The take in full (two comments, under the cut):

“From what I've gathered of Claude's motivation, it's to prove himself to his Almyran family by entering Fodlan and destabilizing it from the inside. That's why he was trying to look into the Church's secrets and why he talked about possibly learning to harness the power of the sword of the creator for himself. I also think that's why he tries to stay "neutral" in routes not his own. I think he's just trying to hold out until he feels like he can make his move and overwhelm who's left. In VW with Byleth he feels like he can take initiative, and so hijacks the work of Edelgard's Revolution right from under her by killing her in Enbarr. This led to some of the fandom claiming that Claude took Fodlan bloodlessly, when really he just let others do the hard work then swooped in. I also think the reason he doesn't want to work with anyone is that he wants to claim that taking Fodlan was completely on him, no allies. That's why he lets Byleth become the new Archbishop, they're an ambitionless puppet that can be easily be manipulated by him, unlike Edelgard, or even Dimitri.

I don't think Claude really cares about Fodlan or it's well-being, he's there for himself. He just comes off as a completely disingenuous ass, yet because eof Joe Zieja and poor narrative focus, he's tricked the fandom into thinking he's actually a decent person.

(for context) A reply says:  Although I don't really agree, you see in both AM and CF that he trusts Dimitri and Edelgard respectively to achieve some of his dreams. I never felt that he was in it for himself; just like Edelgard, he's motivated by a better future for Fodlan, it's just that he uses more sneaky methods rather than Edelgard's more direct approach.

“Nah, I don't buy it. One of the flaws of the writing I think is that we never never see Claude pushed to the absolute edge like the other characters. It's almost like he doesn't care about his goals. But then you find out that's just an Almyran thing. They're warmongerers, but they value their lives more than winning in the end.

So yeah, for Claude, this doesn't mean as much to him as it does to Edelgard, who lives in Fodlan and wants to see it bettered for it's people. If Claude genuinely wanted that, I think he would've allied with Edelgard, since her overthrowing the Church would lead to the kinds of societal changes he claims to want. But he doesn't, because he's selfish and wants the win for himself if he can take it. He doesn't understand that war is people fighting for their home, which is why he's so shocked Hilda was willing to die for his bs claims. I sincerely don't believe Claude cares about Fodlan. He might care about a handful of folks he met, but they're mostly just a means to an end.

Claude is in Fodlan for his own gain in Almyra. Not for Fodlan's sake. He's just fortunate Edelgard started and became the face of war so he didn't have to do it himself.

Very frankly, fuck Claude. I agree with Edelgard. I understand Seiros. I pity Dimitri. No nuance with Claude, fuck him with a rusty lance.

Sooooo there’s a whole lot to unpack here.

“ From what I've gathered of Claude's motivation, it's to prove himself to his Almyran family by entering Fodlan and destabilizing it from the inside. That's why he was trying to look into the Church's secrets and why he talked about possibly learning to harness the power of the sword of the creator for himself. “

And he does this by... stabilizing the Alliance, that was going to fall apart with its head Major House falling to ruin without a proper heir. By being the literal, as-stated-by-Edelgard-herself reason that the Alliance is still stable. Right, okay, makes perfect sense actually. And like..... how do you get something so backwards? Claude isn’t looking into the Church’s secrets because he wants to destabilize Fodlan, it’s because he thinks the Church is the reason for Fodlan’s reluctance to have deep interactions with foreigners/outsiders. He thinks the Church is hiding involvement in big events like the Lance of Ruin and wants to “expose” them for their wrong-doings. And him wanting the SotC is because he thinks it would give him clout, like him wanting to wield Failnaught. Him being able to wield the literal most famous, renown relic in Fodlan’s history would give him so much sway in way more than just oonga boonga physical strength - Byleth being able to is the entire reason people look to them as a religious savior, since it’s physical proof that they have connections to one of the greatest “Heroes” of Fodlan’s history.

“ I also think that's why he tries to stay "neutral" in routes not his own. I think he's just trying to hold out until he feels like he can make his move and overwhelm who's left. In VW with Byleth he feels like he can take initiative, and so hijacks the work of Edelgard's Revolution right from under her by killing her in Enbarr. This led to some of the fandom claiming that Claude took Fodlan bloodlessly, when really he just let others do the hard work then swooped in. “

Or maybe he tries to stay neutral in the war because he doesn’t want his people embroiled in it?? Which fits with how he orders his men to fall back whenever it looks like it’s getting too dangerous?? Like, you do realize that it’s entirely possible to realize you don’t have the power to fight back and also want to keep your men safe because you care about them, right? That those aren’t inherently contradictory statements?

And what are you actually talking about “he just let others do the hard work then swooped in” you mean the “hard work” of Edelgard’s that he explicitly says destroys his dreams? Specifically mentioning how it was her excessive force that was fucking him over? Edelgard instigating war isn’t “hard work” for Claude, it’s something that is actively holding back his ambitions and something that he must get over. He has to improvise his plans around Edelgard’s war because it goes against his wants. The war is not something inherently positive for Claude, it’s something that he worked into his plans because otherwise he’d be fucked.

“ I also think the reason he doesn't want to work with anyone is that he wants to claim that taking Fodlan was completely on him, no allies. That's why he lets Byleth become the new Archbishop, they're an ambitionless puppet that can be easily be manipulated by him, unlike Edelgard, or even Dimitri. “

Which is why a majority of his endings state that he’s leaving Fodlan to his friends, plural, and why none of them state him having influence over Fodlan’s ruling (hence the “entrusting Fodlan” part of the majority of his endings), and why his Lorenz one actually states he’s leaving it to Lorenz specifically, and why literally none of his endings say anything about him taking full credit for shit all, and why in AM he literally leaves the Alliance and the future of Fodlan to Dimitri, and also why he literally, factually, actually works with Dimitri in AM and wants to in VW. This is. So fucking stupid.

“ I don't think Claude really cares about Fodlan or it's well-being, he's there for himself. He just comes off as a completely disingenuous ass, yet because eof Joe Zieja and poor narrative focus, he's tricked the fandom into thinking he's actually a decent person.“

I might actually have a stroke. 

like damn lmao like they don’t think it’s good writing but everything else is pretty close

Second comment 

Reminder for context, this reply:  Although I don't really agree, you see in both AM and CF that he trusts Dimitri and Edelgard respectively to achieve some of his dreams. I never felt that he was in it for himself; just like Edelgard, he's motivated by a better future for Fodlan, it's just that he uses more sneaky methods rather than Edelgard's more direct approach.

“ Nah, I don't buy it. One of the flaws of the writing I think is that we never never see Claude pushed to the absolute edge like the other characters. It's almost like he doesn't care about his goals. But then you find out that's just an Almyran thing. They're warmongerers, but they value their lives more than winning in the end.

This just in folks, if you aren’t pushed to your mental limits then you don’t care about your goals. Being able to keep a cool head despite the circumstances obviously means that you don’t care about what’s happening. 

And the thing is I even agree somewhat to the idea of Claude having a moment of weakness, but that he doesn’t isn’t indicative of his lack of care, like, at all, no matter where he’s from. He still very fuckin’ clearly cares, given that he stayed in Fodlan to help the Alliance. 

And imma take that “just an Almyran thing” for later

Oh but wait, of course, I forgot:

“ So yeah, for Claude, this doesn't mean as much to him as it does to Edelgard, who lives in Fodlan and wants to see it bettered for it's people. If Claude genuinely wanted that, I think he would've allied with Edelgard, since her overthrowing the Church would lead to the kinds of societal changes he claims to want.”

He doesn’t want to see Fodlan get better because he doesn’t live there, which is the only way for one to care about something. Nevermind that he’s been living there for seven years by post ts, nevermind that he’s actually trying to find the truth to help Fodlan unlike Edelgard who just assumes she does without any further investigation, nevermind that the changes he wants to implement get fucking implemented without the dismantling of the Church, no that’s completely irrelevant. He didn’t side with Edelgard so of course he doesn’t want the best for Fodlan, because he’s not brown-nosing the imperialist he can’t actually give a shit. Sure, alright.

And oh yeah, so much societal change Edelgard does, she gets rid of the need for Crests (maybe) and boots a church that isn’t directly tied to the state... and that’s it! Literally nothing else changes with Edelgard, save for one noble house - that has a history of providing magical innovations - getting its noble status back. Commoners rising to power, political or military, without having to marry into it? Never mentioned! Inheritance based strictly on birth? Still very much present! Nobles getting things they haven’t earned? Caspar has your back, Linhardt would but he’s too busy sleeping in his cozy new institute that was made specifically for him and no one else that he abandons in most of his endings anyway so it’s a complete waste, and Bernadetta too busy being forced to take up her family’s work by Edelgard to do anything she might, you know, want to do or anything. One source having all of the power to rule over the whole of Fodlan? Literally Edelgard’s whole plan! Censorship of things the higher ups don’t want the people knowing about? Hey now Dorothea better consult Edelgard before you go just playing any performance you want. Violent quelling of opposition (that’s only levied towards Rhea because she killed people literally caught in the act of trying to kill her)? Well, that’s literally all she has Hubert around for! Not like she cares for his ass otherwise, Miss “I walk my path alone despite having someone who will do literally anything for me” Miss “I have nothing to say about my retainer of like 20 years dying for my cause in any route he dies for me in”. 

Note how none of that has shit all to do with what Claude wants, which is better foreign relations. All of those pertain to endings in CF and the only place that mentions foreign affairs at all is Petra... where she is forced to marry Imperial nobles in some of her endings to gain Brigid’s independence, as per Edelgard’s demands. Yeah, no, this shit wouldn’t fly with Claude’s dreams.

“ But he doesn't, because he's selfish and wants the win for himself if he can take it. He doesn't understand that war is people fighting for their home, which is why he's so shocked Hilda was willing to die for his bs claims. I sincerely don't believe Claude cares about Fodlan. He might care about a handful of folks he met, but they're mostly just a means to an end. “

.....Um.... yes he wants to win the war.... like fuckin’ hello who’d want to lose it? Honest to fuckin’ god, who is going to be on the winning side of a war they didn’t want and go “and I will do nothing with my victory whatsoever” I’m going to stop you ahead of time and say fucking no one. The victor of war is always going to use their victory to do something with it. This isn’t indicative of Claude, Edelgard, Dimitri, Rhea, fuckin’ Billy-Joe down the road, it’s just a fact. 

And hey!!! Maybe he was shocked that people would die for him because like you fucking said in this comment In Almyra - that place that kinda sorta influenced Claude just a tad - you value your life more than your cause! And he valued the lives of his friends more than the cause and that’s why he tells them to retreat in every fucking route! And that him wanting his friends to live and not die for him is not, in fact, him seeing them as a means to an end! 

“ Claude is in Fodlan for his own gain in Almyra. Not for Fodlan's sake. He's just fortunate Edelgard started and became the face of war so he didn't have to do it himself.”

Okay, so fuckin’ riddle me this, if he really wanted to just fuck over Fodlan and claim it for his own and was using Edelgard to spearhead everything, why doesn’t he bust out the full-force Almyran army in CF? Or hell, anywhere? If the goal was really, truly, “100% for his throne in Almyra, fuck Fodlan idgaf” then why does he not just fucking take it over with the infinitely stronger Almyran army? Why does he go out of his way to protect the Alliance people? Why does he evacuate the people in AM and act as a fucking shield for them in CF? Why is he putting himself in this much danger to protect something he apparently doesn’t give a shit about? Why doesn’t he turn to the ol’ King Daddy’o and say “yo pops gimme more men I’ll give ya THE FUCKING ENTIRETY OF FODLAN, OUR CENTURIES OLD ENEMY WHOM IS HATED BY THE MAJORITY OF OUR PEOPLE”?

The Claude you’re describing sounds like a real fuckin’ stupid asshole, good thing he don’t real

[marchioness-caprina]

Swapped

{ Part 3 }

Read ; {Part 1} , { Part 2}

Pairings : Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warnings : Cussing

Writing style : 3rd Person

Word Count 1843

3rd Person's POV

" I thought we were going out to patrol again" Uraraka muttered and a majority of the class nodded in agreement.

They were supposedly going to the agencies they were training under to do their daily rounds of patrol but a sudden shift of their schedule got all of them gathered in Ground Beta for another suprise Physical Test Exercise.

" You were supposed to but unfortunately; a Villain attack happened near the train station and it caused damage on the tracks. It won't be fixed until Tomorrow. Meaning you're all stuck here doing 'Kiddy stuff' " Aizawa replied in his usual bored tone; hands buried inside his pockets as his shoulders sagged. The dark circle under his eyes were clear indication that he didn't get any sleep last night.

" Aww But sens--"

" Stop complaining. If you wanna be a Hero then you got to take it slow, Don't rush things. Plus... You don't see me complaining when I have to put up with all of you... " Aizawa Cut Sato off as he rubbed his temples " And dealing with all of you is not an easy job" He grumbled the last part and everyone picked up on his mood and just shut up.

" So... What exercise are we supposed to be doing today? " Momo questioned and everyone seemed to be interested in what their te aver had in store for them.

They were up for anything. As long as the penalty isn't an expulsion, the fear of their first day with their teacher still struck everyone with fear knowing how ruthless he could be.

" It's simple... Android Bots " Aizawa called out and from the entrance; loud stomping noises were heard, the stomping wasn't from just one but an army of Robots came marching out of ye entrance, stomping their metallic foot with in perfect harmony.

" Woah! "

Gasps of awe were heard from a few students as they stared at the bots with wonder.

" Let me guess... We're gonna be facing those junks here? " Y/n stated in a matter of fact. Katsuki who was right behind the female with arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder just gave off a satisfied humm when y/n placed her hand ontop of Katsuki's own.

Aizawa who was too tired to give a sassy remark to his student's comment just nodded; and he won't even point out Bakugou's Clingyness seeing how the boy had reacted yesterday when he told him to minimize his Skinship with y/n. It didn't end well.

" This ain't cutting shit. Knowing you... There's a twist to this crappy test right? " Y/n countered and with a sigh Aizawa began to explain ;

" You're right Miss smarty pants. There's a twist. You guys will be judged individually, these bots can't do much damage but the bombs inside them are the ones you need to watch out for, if you destroy a Bot directly without dismantling the bombs first then... Of course you go Kaboom " Everyone flinched at Their Teacher's explanation especially with how nonchalantly he is as he did so.

" Ehhh!? B-but sensei... Isn't it a little bit too.... Cruel? " Mina interjected and aizawa shook his head.

" As a hero. You must always be prepared of every possible scenarios and surprises. Such as this, of course there are subtle indications whether a bot has a bomb or not.... So you gotta put your observational skills to good use and put that brain of yours to work. Spot the difference, dismantle the bomb and you're free to destroy it... Simple as that " Aizawa yawned as he waved off his student's shocked and terrified expression.

Everyone knew their team her isn't going to give them any more clues.

" He just wants to see us suffer.... " Jiro dead panned and everyone couldn't help but agree.

" You said we'll be graded individually.... So you're saying that we have to take out loud portions of those robots ourselves?" Y/n raised a brow when her sensei gave her a spine chilling smile.

" Yes, that's also part of the lesson. It's not everyday you'd get lucky to have another Hero to he paired with you... Sometimes you gotta work alone and most of the time The villain's you're gonna be facing won't be alone. So multi-tasking is the key... And since you're my 'favorite' student... You'll go first " Aizawa pointed at her lazily and she shot him a gentle smile.

A smile that seemed too gentle for this y/n to pull off. Something wasn't right with the way she smiled and everyone knew it.

" But... She might get hurt... I'll stay with her" Katsuki murmured tightening his hold around the girl.

" What? You think I can't handle myself? Get off me already loser. I need to release some stress and you're getting in the way. " Y/n without thinking much of how bad her words had affected Katsuki grinned as she pushed him off her roughly.

Katsuki tumbled back and he looked at her with a pained expression.

" Y-you think I'm a--"

" Get him outta here. He's fucking up my mood. " Y/n snapped as she jogged away from the group.

Katsuki who was fast to try and run up to her was pulled back by aizawa's scarf like fabric.

" Let her go Bakugou. "

" No! I Need Her! Y/n! " Bakugou whined and he had to be knocked out because he was starting to get aggressive.

"Everyone. To the Control room" Aizawa groaned and his students followed his command but go course they felt sorry for their classmate who was passed out cold.

_____________________

" Fucking Die! Hahahaha "

Everyone was silent as they stared at the screen; gawking at how monstrous their classmate could be. Was that even y/n? Because that screaming creature murdering those innocent robots while crushing them to pieces reducing them to junk was scarier than any villain they have ever seen.

" ..... Remind me to never piss y/n....ever" Kirishima gulped when 10 robots were sent flying off the ground with the girl wildly swinging a metal pole like a mad man continued her assault.

" S-she's doing a very accurate job at controlling that new quirk of hers though " Kaminari mumbled as he began thinking.

" But... That is not the opposite of her quirk... Unless.... Oh could it be? The quirk she has is a combined and mixture of mine and Bakugou's quirk ... I underestimated that villain's quirk " Kaminari began to mumble his thoughts out loud and it didn't go unnoticed.

" Well... What do we even call that quirk? "

Kaminari paused and gave a nod towards Uraraka " I suggest Electrical Combustion would fit the spunk" .

" She's doing a tad too good don't you think? "

" She's y/n. So it's no wonder "

___________________

Y/n slammed both of her hands on the ground creating an electrical current as well as a loud eruption of explosion to ensue underground sending the both flying before being completely engulfed and destroyed by either the flying debris, the roasting electricity or the destructive explosion.

With fluid like movement she shot out explosive electric bombs out of her palm that violently detonated when it came in contact with the robots.

She didn't have to worry about the exploding bombs inside the boys because she herself was more explosive than all of those bombs combined.

Her movements were accurate, powerful and spontaneous but her eyes showed how calculated and focused she was if people would ignore that sadistic grin spread out on her face.

She was merciless and with one final punch of the ground that sent a combined jolt of electricity and explosion that caused a mass breakage the fight was over. With no bots left standing at all.

The area was crumbling with ruined buildings and flying rocks and debris mixed with chunks of broken metal.

" Ahh... That hit the fucking spot " She grinned stretching her limbs after her little 'workout'

Meanwhile ------

Everyone was speechless at the display of power of their classmate. She was far too ruthless and she looked more like a villain---no monster from the screen.

And if you squint really hard earlier the students could see how the bots were running away from her instead of actually attacking her.

Y/n gained both the respect and fear of everyone after that bit of course they admired her for her brilliant performance meaning they didn't have to do the test because she destroyed all the bots in a blink of an eye.

" That..... Was so Manly! " Kirishima cheered and his cheer was joined by everyone else.

" Man! Who knew she knows some pretty sweet moves like that! I should ask her to teach me a few of those moves! " Sero commented punching the air.

" Well if you ask me that was rather terrifying.... The continuous onslaught of those poor robots was enough to petrify me for eternity. Not to mention she left us with nothing at all! " Iida sighed as he pushed his glasses up.

" Jeez, loosen up. She did all of us a favor " Jiro replied placing her hand on the slightly disappointed Iida.

Izuku on the side was vigorously writing down on his notebook with such intensity it made everyone pause for a moment to look at him; no doubt about it. He was taking notes about y/n.

Everyone was happy and Aizawa looked more like a proud father than an angry teacher.

But the same couldn't be said for Katsuki. He was sulking in the corner. Eyes dull and fists balled.

The little demon called jealousy was beginning to creep up again. He remembered the other day about Y/n wanting to be partners with Deku or Half and Half. And now that everyone saw how amazing his Girlfriend is, it made him sink deeper as his own insecurities began to swallow him whole.

" .... Do I even... Deserve her? " He mumbled to himself. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks while he pitifully sniffled.

His classmates were gazing at him. They looked inside of what they should do. They still couldn't get used to this new Katsuki.

Kirishima was about to approach and comfort his friend when suddenly Katsuki's body jolted from his spot before collapsing on the ground.

" Bakugou! " Kirishima exclaimed but another gasp was heard from the back.

" It's Y/n-san and Kaminari-san! " Izuku pointed out. Jiro was holding onto an unconscious Kaminari with the help of Tsuyu and on the screen it was pretty clear that y/n had also experienced the same thing and was now sprawled down on the ground.

Unmoving .

........ To be Continued.

[still-busy-being-mortal]

the rising of the moon

word count: 4544

rating: G

fandom: the mechanisms

warnings: major character death

summary: They've lived so long together, perhaps it is only fitting they die alone.

story notes: so this came about as a result of wanting to cry MORE about the mechs. don't ask me why.

features raphaella spouting unnecessary science jargon, ivy being emotionally repressed/depressed, drumbot brian holding a conversation with himself, and the toy soldier being actually emotionally intelligent.

——————

JONNY

It’s a quiet day aboard the starship formerly known as The Aurora. Most of the crew is out, and she’s drifting slowly through a dusty asteroid field. Ivy has stayed aboard to read, and Drumbot Brian was designated ship-sitter, so he’s stayed on as well. When enough time has passed (Is it days? Or decades? No one knows anymore, and no one cares. They are all so tired.), Brian hits the alert switch that will tell the Mechanisms to come home.

Ivy feels the gentle vibration in her brain --the pulse of The Aurora’s beacon-- and she puts her book down before walking slowly to the navigation bridge. Marius’ hand starts to buzz, messing up his note-taking; he apologizes to the rather fascinating asteroid-dweller he’s interviewing and takes his leave. Ashes feels their chest hum, and they turn away from their beautiful, fiery meteor shower.

[read more on ao3, or continue below!]

One by one, the Mechs find their way home. It takes some longer than others, but they all return eventually. Or they should; right now, there are only seven crewmates in the navigation bridge.

“I’m sick of waiting--where the hell is Jonny?” Tim whines.

“I guess he decided to stay in the asteroid belt?” Marius says.

“Woulda been nice to let us know,” mutters Ashes, “So we’re not all sittin’ here for ages.”

Brian stands and raises his hand. “All in favour of leaving and returning in a few decades?” They all agree, so he pilots Aurora away from the asteroid field.

Time goes by, and they do not hear from Jonny. Of course, members of the crew sometimes stay away for long periods of time, but that doesn’t mean their absence is not felt. And Jonny hasn’t appeared to try and contact them at all.

After a while, they vote to return to the asteroid belt. When they arrive, they split up, communication devices in hand.

Ivy combs through her memory, trying to summon any knowledge she has on Asteroid Field 01.18.20. The Toy Soldier moves methodically from meteor to meteor, searching for their lost comrade. Raphaella interviews any inhabitants she comes across, axially coding their qualitative responses to identify patterns in the data. Tim goes to a bar for a drink, irritated at Jonny’s latest antic.

He walks into some nameless, backwater joint and sits at the counter, flagging down the bartender with a lazy wave. He orders and waits, mechanical eyes roving the establishment. And then he freezes.

On the far wall hang a few dozen photographs, all dusty and poor quality. Above the photos is a crudely-done banner that simply reads “Cheers to Our Past Patrons.” One of the pictures is of Jonny.

When the bartender returns, Tim asks: “What’s the deal with the wall of fame, then?”

“Oh, that,” they answer tiredly. “Just sum dark joke the old owner thought up. Them’s the folks who kicked it in this here bar, you see.”

Tim was confused. “You mean those people died here? That can’t be right; my friend’s up there, and he can’t d--he’s alive.”

The barkeep shrugged. “Don’t know, pal. We had to bury most of thems out back, if you reckon you want to check.” He chuckled darkly and went back to drink-making.

Tim quickly finished his drink and went out the back door. He debated alerting the other Mechs about this development, but decided he might as well see for himself first.

He found the makeshift graveyard quickly, small rusty mounds amid the equally rusty asteroid outback. Some displayed names on roughly carved wood planks, but obviously none of them said “Jonny d’Ville” (Tim laughed at the idea of Jonny carrying around an ID). Most were unmarked, however, so he started to dig.

He used his hands, too impatient to try and find a shovel. He came across bodies and bones in various stages of decay, but none that had any chance of being Jonny. About fed up with this ridiculous idea of his, he decided to dig up one more grave. He shovelled dirt and rocks out of the way, until his hand hit something hard and cold. Something metallic. He pulled on it, and came away with a belt. Christ , he thought.

He quickly scooped away the rest of the dirt, revealing the corpse of Captain First Mate Jonny d’Ville. Dead. Tim stumbled backward, hand fumbling for his comm. “Um, mates, I-I found him.”

The Mechanisms were different after that. Yes, Nastya had gone Out long ago, but they had never actually come across her dead corpse , so it wasn’t the same. Marius had examined his body and declared him fully, completely, and irrevocably dead. They had held a funeral, but they were all too much in shock to really remember it. All they knew was that they were down a crew member, without a captain first mate, and terribly aware of their own mortality.

ASHES

About half the crew was in Raphaella’s lab, helping her with some complex kind of experiment. Raph was mixing two viciously green liquids together, while Marius was unspooling wire from a large bobbin. The Toy Soldier was holding an ultraviolet light against a motherboard, and Ashes connected the motherboard to the chartreuse concoction using the wires. After pouring all of the chemicals, Raphaella pulled on some rubber gloves and pulled out a small pocketwatch from her shirt. “Are we ready?” she asked gleefully. Without waiting for an answer, she started the countdown. “Five! Four! Three! T--curses!” The pocketwatch slipped from her gloved grasp and fell into the churning beaker. All at once there was a flash and a bang, and the lights went out. They stood in complete silence for a minute, before the backup generators flicked on.

The Toy Soldier clapped its hands, “That Was Jolly Good! Can We Do It Again?”

“No, TS, look, I got goop on my--wait!” Marius shouted, “Where’s Ashes?” They all turned to look at where the quartermaster had been just moments before. The floor where they’d been standing was a scorched, intricate, dark pattern of swirls. “What the hell is that ?”

“I Do Not Know, But I Will Go Get The Archivist!”

TS returned with Ivy, who took one look at the patterns on the floor and asked: “Who is it that has been time travelling?”

“Time travelling?!” Raph exclaimed.

“Yes,” Ivy said, “Those marks are a perfect exemplar of the evidence left behind when one has been forcibly transported forward or backward in the time continuum. Which one of you did it? Did you happen to bring back any books?”

“It wasn’t us: it was Ashes.” Marius said, “And we don’t think they’ve come back yet.”

Ivy grew very pale. “That is highly alarming. There’s a less than 0.1% chance that a time traveller ever comes back if they do not return instantly after the outset of their journey.”

“Y-you mean Ashes might not...” Marius trailed off, “...Wait a second! That doesn’t make sense! We don’t experience time linearly!”

“That may be true, but we are not forcibly moved through it either. We are at the whim of the narrative flow, and any alteration to that usually produces negative results.”

The Toy Soldier flashed through many emotions at once, though its face never changed. “So Quartermaster O’Reilly Is...Gone?”

“We can’t prove that yet!” Raph cried, fluttering around the lab and grabbing various scientific instruments. “Maybe if I can pinpoint when exactly they’ve been transported to, we can...we can bring them back.”

“That’s quite a long shot,” Marius said.

“What is science if not a shot into the ignorant dark?” Raph replied, rigging up a technological monstrosity. She aimed the thing at the charred spot and clicked a button, causing the machine to emit a pulsating, whirring sound. “Oh, you all might want to close your eyes.”

With a burst of green and a harsh dial tone, the thing spit out a strip of paper. Raph grabbed it and read it intently. She dropped it suddenly, eyes distant and empty. “They are gone.”

The room burst into a cacophony. (“What do you mean?!” “Gone How? Gone Forever ?” “It was statistically unlikely that they could have returned.”) Raph picked up the paper and pressed it onto the lab table. Most of it was meaningless words and numbers, but Raph pointed out a string in the center: “RESULT) DATE: %& INFINITE ROUNDING ERROR $! _ LOCATION: SINGULARITY!UNIVERSAL IMPLOSION. ANALYSIS) CHANCE OF TERMINATION: 100.0% +-0.0 R = 1.0”

“They’re gone.”

RAPHAELLA

The crew was far more disorganized after Ashes left. With no one to maintain inventory or keep the crew in line, The Mechanisms started to fall apart. Raphaella tried for a while to build some kind of time-travelling device, some way of defying the inexorable march of the story, but it was in vain. She was left with only one option; one experiment she hadn’t tried yet.

She carefully laser cuts some metal from the starship once known as the Aurora. She sits in Nastya’s former workshop for hours, bending and twisting and fabricating until she is left with wings; wings more breathtaking than any she has possessed before. Once on, they fan out behind her in a starburst of blue and metallic grey.

But her crew will never see them. In the cover of darkness, she steals away to the airlock. The ship is currently sailing past a black hole (Raphaella has the Messier number and NGC identification memorized, but that’s not her concern now). With one final look backward at the place that had been her home for millennia --the place she thought she would call home forever -- she casts herself into the black hole.

Ivy finds the note she left, succinct and unmincing as ever:

“Addressed to whoever finds this first:

After a brief review of prior literature, I have found extensive holes (no pun intended) in the study of singularities, specifically as it relates to a singularity’s effect on a humanoid body and mind. I seek to rectify this, as well as explore the possibility of horological manipulation, though perhaps my methods are not entirely replicable. It is every scientist’s dream to be on the cutting edge of research, and so I initiate this experiment joyfully. Also, black holes are hypothesized to have magnificent magnetic fields!

Yours,

Dr. Raphaella La Cognizi”

TIM

Tim, Marius, the Toy Soldier, Brian, and Ivy wait. They do not wait together, and they do not know what exactly it is they’re waiting for, but they wait nevertheless.

Time passes.

Brian pilots the ship towards various planets, pointless battles, dying stars. One day, the remaining Mechs arrive at a lawless sea-based war occurring on a planet composed entirely of liquid obsidian. They commandeer a ship (which they dub the ‘Dawn’) and spend decades wreaking havoc as the most formidable group of pirates. But Tim knows something is wrong.

“Tim, take out that vessel off the starboard side.” Brian orders from the prow of the Dawn.

Tim smoothly preps, loads, and positions a cannon to aim directly at the enemy ship in question. He lights the fuse, and the cannon fires. The crew watch as the projectile hurls through the air, arcing like a cold meteor into the distance. They watch it come down towards the enemy vessel. And they watch it miss.

The crew turns to stare at Tim. He’s not nearly as mortified as they expected. In fact, he’s perfectly serene.

“Um, Tim…” Marius starts slowly, “D-did you know you, uh...missed?”

“Yep.” he responds, popping the ‘p’.

“Did you mean to?”

“Nope.”

“And...you’re not upset by that?”

“Not especially.”

(“That’s a fascinatingly abnormal psychological response,” Marius mutters under his breath, jotting something down in a notebook he appears to have produced out of nowhere.)

The crew continues to stare as Tim goes below deck to his bunk, humming slightly.

Tim has known something was off for a long time now. His aim started to err by nanometres, then by millimeters, then more, until he was missing entire ships like today. He’d panicked at the beginning, of course, but now? Now, he was ready to be done.

He’d felt the pressure building up in his head, behind his eyes. He got spurts of tunnel vision randomly, and sometimes his vision just went to static. He gradually lost the ability to see some colors, as the electronic rods and cones went out one-by-one and refused to self-repair. But he wasn’t nervous or distressed or alarmed; he was excited.

You see, he’d been saving something for a special occasion. He didn’t know what ‘special occasion’ entailed, since the Mechs never consistently celebrated holidays or birthdays, but permanent death seemed like a pretty good one. He rooted around in his rucksack, and withdrew a set of shiny silver keys; keys he’d stolen a long, long time ago. These were the ignition keys to the largest gunship existence will ever see, and Tim planned to go out with a bang. That evening, he told the crew he wanted them all to return to the starship so he could be dropped off somewhere. They all agreed, since they didn’t have any real cares anymore, and they set off for the planet Tim had etched into his memory.

Tim sits in the cockpit of the gunship, the planet itself already ruined and smoking from fighting his way to get here. The Mechanisms were long gone, as he’d told them to leave without him. He hadn’t exactly said he wasn’t planning on coming back, but he thinks they understood. With one last grin of pure, unadulterated madness, he kicks the gunship into gear and blasts off.

The ship goes too fast to comprehend, and in an instant he’s shooting across the cosmos, shattering stars and razing entire systems of planets. The universe has never before witnessed such complete and utter desolation. Tim doesn’t process much during this rampage...until he starts to die.

He doesn’t know what he hit, but something has jolted the gunship just right, and he’s flung out the front glass. He knows he should die instantly, and he is, but his eyes are moving faster. They’re replaying his life, backwards, and he wants to groan with the cliché-ness of it all. But then it’s over. Or, almost over. At the very end, so fast, so short compared to the millennia he has lived, he catches sight of a young man in a trench. Bertie. A face he will never forget no matter how much longer he could have lived. And in the moments of blackness before he stops forever, he thinks about Bertie, about what comes next.

Faith is a moot point when you’re immortal, since you’ve quite literally come into contact with gods and demons, eldritch horrors and cosmic powers. But here, at the end of his wretchedly long existence, Tim wonders if he will ever see Bertie again. If he will ever see Jonny, or TS, or Ashes, or anyone ever again.

He dies blind, with their names on his lips.

IVY

Exposition: Ivy is quite spectacular at suppressing her emotions. She’s also skilled at identifying patterns, so by the time Raphaella left, she knew what was going on with 98% certainty. Without much fanfare, she packed her bags (5 for books and 1 for everything else), said goodbye to Marius, Brian, and the Toy Soldier, and left.

She rifled through her memory archives for the quaintest library she knew of, and headed there.

Rising Action: And so time passed.

Ivy read, and organized, and wrote, and...existed. Nothing happened, and nothing changed. Carmilla must have made an error in her mechanization because she’d never been the best at processing feelings, but she was happy, she thought.

Climax: A war came, and her library was attacked. With the numbest, most detached sense of purpose imaginable, she loaded an escape pod with random books she thought should be preserved and fired it out into the void. She didn’t even know she’d been hit until she’d fallen to the floor, blood streaming from a massive wound. She knows she is dying; she’d seen the patterns.

Denouement: Her brain whirs slower and slower, until it stops. The end.

MARIUS

They are not a crew any longer. Brian has firmly rooted himself on the bridge, more robot than man now. The Toy Soldier wanders the ship, searching for its friends who are playing the best game of hide-and-seek that the universe has ever seen. Marius putters along, doing some maintenance, writing down his thoughts, and waiting for his death.

He’d always known this life of theirs couldn’t last. Besides the conceptual and moral implications of an eternal existence without consequences, it didn’t even make sense physically . There was no such thing as a perpetual motion machine, and he was surprised his more rational-minded crewmates didn’t question it more. But now his theory had come to fruition, and his crew, his family , had slowly dropped off one-by-one, like leaves from an autumnal tree.

He’s at a bit of a loose end now. With no people left to talk to, no minds to pick, he doesn’t feel any sense of purpose. It’s not depression--he knows that; it’s more of a...cosmic futility.

He feels one last pull, one last tug of the all-pervading narrative, a tide of finality, urging him towards a certain door. He knows this door, knows what it means when he opens it. But he also knows all things come to an end eventually, so why not go out doing what he always did? Providing the comic relief.

“Time this for me, will you, Aurora?” he calls out. He turns the handle and steps inside.

BRIAN

Since Jonny’s death, Brian has been at war with himself. He supposes he’s always been at war with himself though, and his current moral quandary reminds him uncomfortably of his first.

Sitting on the bridge alone, he decides to have a conversation.

“So the crux of the problem is that we can bring people back from the dead, correct?”

He flips his switch. “Correct.”

He flips it back. “But the dilemma is whether we should bring the Mechs back or not.”

“Also correct.”

“Which we shouldn’t, because they wanted to die.”

“No, we should. We want them alive, right? Using magic is definitely the easiest way to achieve that.”

“But we need our family to be happy. God knows how long it’s been.”

“Is the end goal their happiness or our happiness?”

“If I answer that, will I change your mind?”

“Is altering the end goal really the moral way to win this argument?”

“You know what? Damn you.”

Time passes, and each crewmate’s departure only makes Brian’s contempt for his own inner hesitation grow. He spends years staring out into the cosmos, thoughts whirling just as fast as the dust and gases beyond the glass. He wonders if he will ever die and join his family, or if the degree of his artificiality will render him truly immortal. He hates that thought more than most anything else.

He stops smelling the smoke of Ashes’ fires one day, and wonders if his olfactory systems are shutting down.

He stops feeling the rumble of Raphaella’s experimental explosions, and wonders if his nerve endings are rusting.

He stops seeing the flash of Tim’s gunshots bounce around the corridors, and wonders if he’s gone as blind as the gunner himself.

He stops hearing Ivy’s narration, and wonders if his auditory fluids have finally trickled away.

One day, the lone violin that has been echoing throughout the empty starship fades out, and Brian feels his heart stop.

It restarts of course, but Brian knows.

He knows that it’s finally, finally time. Soon, very soon, there will be no more life aboard this ship. No life, where there had been life for eons. No life, where there had been life immortal.

His sense of taste has never come into doubt, because he can still taste the acridness of the Toy Soldier’s cooking wafting on the air. He decides it’s only right to bid goodbye, so he makes his way back to the kitchen. On the way, he passes the Doctor’s old laboratory. He briefly considers destroying it, bringing down the whole ship in a blaze of fire and brimstone, but he knows that isn’t right; it wouldn’t fulfill anything.

In the kitchen, the Toy Soldier is pulling something pink and grey and on fire out of the oven. “Hey, TS,” Brain says gently, leaning against the doorframe as his heart falters again. “I-I’ve got to talk to you.”

The Toy Soldier spins around. “Drumbot Brian!” it shouts joyfully. “How Have You Been, Old Chap! I Have Been Playing Hide-And-Seek With The Rest Of The Crew For A While Now, And They Are Definitely Winning! Have You Seen Them?”

“Oh, TS,” Brian says sadly, “We’re all who’s left now. Don’t you know? The others have gone.”

He sees the Toy Soldier’s wooden eyes soften, betraying an agedness he’s never seen before. “Of Course I Know, Bean. But What Have We Been Doing This Whole Time, If Not Pretending?”

Brian smiles sorrowfully, and TS matches it. “I just wanted to let you know, TS, that now it’s my turn to go.”

“I Know.” It salutes him. “Goodbye, Drumbot.”

Brain gently returns the salute, and leaves.

He stumbles through the ship, heart failing rapidly now, but he makes it to the airlock. He knows deep down that there’s only one way his story could end. His whole existence has been framed by empty solitude, with his family providing the best aberration one could wish for. With his body more an empty metal frame than a robot now, he opens the airlock and casts himself back into the cosmos, from whence he came, and where he would die.

THE TOY SOLDIER

Its friends are all gone away now, and it knows this. There is no more laughter aboard the starship once known as the Aurora. There is no more gunfire or explosions. There is no more music. The cold mass of metal drifts through the void of the uncaring cosmos, with no living being aboard.

But The Toy Soldier has to be sure; it has to guarantee that it is truly all alone now. So it visits its friends’ final resting places.

It spends some years gazing out the front windows of the ship. The thrusters have been broken for a long time now, and the Toy Soldier doesn’t know how to repair them, so it just sits and watches. It wants to see the Drumbot, so it pretends that it does. Soon enough, out the starboard porthole, it spies him. His metal is rusted and warped, frost rendering most of his face unrecognizable. A drum is still looped around his shoulder. The Toy Soldier tethers itself to the ship and goes outside for a moment, drifting towards the robot. It lays a wooden hand on his deformed chest, and feels that his heart beats no longer. It carves off a long curl of wood from its side, and places it in Brian’s frozen hand.

It returns to the ship. It hadn’t known where Marius had disappeared to, but now it feels the force of the narrative driving it towards a certain room. It opens the door, and a handful of mangy octokittens hiss at it and scurry away. There’s nothing in the room besides a pile of crumpled clothes, a broken violin, and a metal hand, but the Toy Soldier could recognize that style anywhere. It gently twists one of its own wooden hands off, and lays it on the mound.

The Toy Soldier knows that Ivy went somewhere far away, so it closes its eyes and pretends that it’s there. When it opens them again, it finds itself in the charred ruins of some great marble building. At its feet lay bones, a metal flute, and a mess of circuitry, untouched by the ash. The Toy Soldier reaches up, removes a piece of wood from the back of its head, and lays it besides the flute.

The Toy Soldier has a harder time finding the gunner. It’s drawn this way and that, chasing an intangible trail through the stars and galaxies. All of the planets it passes are devoid of life. Finally, finally, it stumbles across an enormous, gaping wreck of a starship, all mangled and smashed to pieces. The ship is so large, it’s drawn smaller asteroids into an orbit around it. On one of these rocky satellites, the Toy Soldier spies a body: a skeleton covered in a long brown coat with a guitar slung across it. A pair of mutilated, metal eyes rest in the skull. The Toy Soldier smiles sadly, removes one of its own wooden eyes, and slips it into the pocket of the coat.

It knows it cannot follow the science officer into a black hole. It does manage to find the sketches of the wings Raphaella designed, so it gathers them up, takes two chunks of wood from its back, finds Raph’s keyboard, and casts everything into the nearest singularity.

After pretending to be at the end of space and time, it finds itself there. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. It removes two segments of wood from deep within its chest and places them in the nothingness, along with the strings of an old electric bass it had found. As it winks back to the ship, it catches the faintest scent of gasoline.

It returns to the asteroid Jonny had died on, the start of their ignoble demise. It visits his grave, in the taupe dirt of the desert behind the backwater bar, and sees all of the trinkets and mementos the crew had left behind. It knows none of them left anything during their makeshift funeral, so that means each of them must have slipped away at some point to come here on their own. Ashes has left their best lighter, Tim a pair of dogtags. Marius left behind all of his notes of Jonny’s disaster of a brain, and Brian has deposited some sun-scorched piece of space station. His harmonica has also found its way here, somehow. The Toy Soldier slowly, slowly reaches into its chest and removes its wooden heart, laying it down atop the mound of dirt and memories. It walks away, and knows that it can finally, finally stop pretending.

AURORA

There is no record of where the Toy Soldier went next. It certainly did not return to the empty ship once known as the brilliant Aurora. The lifeless, soulless, music-less ship drifts on alone through the cosmos, rusting and warping until no one could tell it had ever been a ship at all. Eons pass, and whatever memory the universe might have had of The Mechanisms has been utterly lost.

Until the misshapen mass gets stuck in the orbit of a planet. Molded and formed by the planet’s gravity, the ship is reborn as a moon. And all at once, she comes to life.

As dawn washes over her, the young moon hears a voice. “Hello, dear,” a woman coos, “My name is Dr. Carmilla.”

[spade-riddles]

The whole timing and use of JK’s social media asset on babygate post is very interesting. IMO there are several possibilities:

1. It’s a highly strategic and calculated move to drown out and bury babygate news with Taylor’s win. Esp since most of Karlie’s fanbase are huge Taylor fans who would prioritize Taylor’s performance and monumental accomplishment on the same day. I had a feeling that Taylor attending and performing in the grammy’s meant that she knew in advance that she’ll win at least one out of her many nominations / was led to believe that she had a very strong chance to win. Remember she chose not to attend the previous Grammy’s despite being nominated. Biebs didn’t attend as well, as he did not won in any of his nominations this year. I think odds are higher even this year that artists knew ahead due to COVID as it meant that they’d risk exposure being there without any assured participation. It seems to be a concerted effort between the two camps. Push button release of articles on Grammy Day and JK minutes-before-Taylor’s-performance posting means that they knew of it way ahead. How can Karlie’s camp know if they are in a feud? Moreover, posting using JK’s account, despite our disgust in association, could have been meant to temper more headlines linking the 2 if Karlie posted it. This gives hope, in fortifying that the baby is KK & TS’s, but it also signifies for me, that they want the baby protected from the public eye within a public narrative’s already too messed up by the skeletons in their closet. Besides, I think Taylor knows already that her career has reached phenomenal heights at just 31, she knows the formula to win not only her fans but the homophobic Grammys thus the Toe speech and WB proclamation doubles down on this narrative. Which is why I think her lovher’s blue, but understands even if she could never give her peace.

“Live out a narrative that we find to be interesting enough to entertain us, but not too crazy that it makes us uncomfortable. This is probably one of my last opportunities as an artist to grasp onto that kind of success, so, I don’t know, as I’m reaching 30, I’m like, I want to work really hard while society is still tolerating me being successful.” - Taylor Swift, Miss Americana

2. It’s a shrewd move from 🛴 just to irritate the hell out of Taylor and Taylor alone (Kaylors are collateral damage, one that I’m pretty sure he didn’t even consider due to the very minimal count). There’s a possibility that he could have known ahead due to his industry contacts / Grammys had to announce or heavily hint to nominees who will win based on who’s performing given the pandemic situation, hence he could’ve planned ahead and synced release of articles and post of JK. If he wanted to be loud about it tho, he could’ve posted it on a separate day after the whole Taylor Grammy press died down. It would be odd and deluded for him to think that this could overshadow Taylor’s big day, when a big chunk of KK’s fans were originally Taylor’s fans. Moreso, majority of Taylor’s fans hate KK, they couldn’t have cared less on Taylor’s day, esp posting it on JK’s low traction asset. This honestly doesn’t make sense to me, it’s so petty even for 🛴. Unless, this alludes that Kaylor has indeed broken up, because this is the only way this move could have really hurt TS and further validates TS’s proclaimed hatred towards the dude.

"What's a lifetime of achievement? If I pushed you to the edge” - Taylor Swift, Coney Island

3. It’s a vindictive move from Karlie, but this assumes that Kaylor underwent a very volatile breakup. KK like everyone knows that she’s performing, could have known from 🛴/ just a hunch that she’ll win and chose to spite TS cos when she walked to the podium, she forgot yet again to say her name. If this was true though, and I was her wanting to incite violence, I would’ve posted it on my assets with a larger reach esp to TS fanbase and watch as the world burns with all headlines linking both of them. Furthermore, I would neither have posted a picture of myself dancing in a cardigan by the woods 13 days before Folklore, nor hugged a stupid tree when Folklore dropped and caption it my happy place because I hate her and I should have known nothing about that surprise album drop that plain oat was only privy to.

4. It’s a cocky move from JK like everyone knows that she’s performing, could have known from 🛴/ just a hunch that she’ll win and chose to spite TS by syncing his announcement because of sheer insecurity. This totally does not make sense to me because if it is indeed his baby and Karlie’s, and he is a businessman, he would either not care bec getting Karlie knocked up should be enough of a flex and he should’ve been more worried about his hedge fund’s current performance. If he was an intelligent businessman as well, he would’ve used KK’s platform that had more reach esp to the right target market.

5. It’s a pure plain koincidence, YET AGAIN, not a lot going on here. 🙄

6. Other possibilities I haven’t thought about that could also possibly be true as we are all just speculating here.

Whew. That was long. My best bets are either 1 / 2. What do you think?

🧶

Nice post. I agree it is 1 or 2. Most likely #1 for me.

[paths-of-my-childhood-candid]

OH, TAYLOR! Taylor Swift On Side-Stepping Into Acting, Owning What You Make & Loving The “Weirdness” Of Cats

On a grey London afternoon in late September, Taylor Swift slips quietly through the doors of a north London recording studio. It is an auspicious moment: the queen of confessional pop has come to meet Andrew Lloyd Webber, the king of musical theatre. Together, Swift, who turns 30 this month, and Lloyd Webber, 71, have written “Beautiful Ghosts”, a new song for the soon-to-be-released film adaptation of Cats – Webber’s 1981 extravaganza, which ran in the West End and on Broadway for a combined total of almost 40 years. In it, Swift plays Bombalurina, and like her co-stars – Idris Elba, Judi Dench, Francesca Hayward, Ian McKellen, Jennifer Hudson, Rebel Wilson – appears in full, furry CGI glory. Track finished, these two titans of the music industry sit down to talk… 

Andrew Lloyd Webber: Well, the first thing we have to clear up is that we both love cats. Taylor Swift: [Laughs] We do! One of the first things you said to me when we met was that you’re president of the Turkish Van Cat Club.  ALW: Professionally, there is nowhere I can go to top this, as you can completely understand. TS: I have three cats. How many do you have now?  ALW: I have three, too – they are all Turkish Vans. And you’ve got a Scottish Fold I believe. TS: I have two Scottish Folds, we think the third is a Ragdoll mix. ALW: You’re probably never going to talk to me again, but you know I’ve got a puppy? He’s called Mojito.  TS: I heard about this! How does he get along in the hierarchy?  ALW: Well, he believes he’s a little bear actually. He’s a Havanese dog, which I got because Glenn Close has one. TS: I’ve met that dog, he’s really good. ALW: You come from Pennsylvania. TS: I do. People seem to think I was raised in the south, but I’m from the north – grew up on a Christmas tree farm, then moved to Nashville when I was 14. ALW: And you wanted to move to Nashville for the songwriting or the singing? Or both? TS: Both – I was just obsessed with Shania Twain, Faith Hill, Dixie Chicks, and the thing they had in common was that they had gotten discovered in Nashville. So I had it in my head that this is a magical place where discoveries are made and people are able to do music as a living. ALW: Was it the storytelling side of country songs that you liked? Absolutely. It reminded me of the ’90s, when you had these amazing female singer-songwriters like Alanis Morissette and Sarah McLachlan; incredible female writers like Melissa Etheridge, Shawn Colvin; and these types of Lilith Fair women. Then you started to hit the 2000s and the only place I could find real confessional storytelling was country music. ALW: Did you know anybody when you got to Nashville? TS: No, we didn’t really. I’d been going there on vacation with my family, and my mom, my little brother and I would stay in a hotel and try to meet people. Eventually, after several trips, I got a development deal – it’s a non-committal record deal, like, “We’ll watch you develop for a year and then we’ll decide if we sign you.” That was grounds enough to move the family. ALW: Presumably you were in school in Nashville as well? TS: Yes, I was going to high school during the day and doing my songwriting sessions at night. It was a double life. I’d be writing notes in class, and my teachers never knew if they were notes for my class or if I’d gotten an idea for a song. ALW: How many songs would you write in a day? TS: Usually, never more than one. I had these sessions every day, and if I didn’t come in with a good idea, I’d get stared at. You’re not inspired every day, as you know, but you have to show up and treat it like a job. That’s where I learned the craft of songwriting. ALW: I’ve never worked like that, because I’m so story driven. What interests me, though, is how Nashville works. How did you get your foot on the performing ladder? TS: It was really writing first. At the same time, I was singing the national anthem every time I could – at festivals and fairs and bars, anywhere I could get up on stage. I was trying to hone both sides of what I was doing, but I’m very well aware that I would not have a career if I hadn’t been a writer. I wouldn’t have just been a singer, it wouldn’t have worked. ALW: I guess that, today, very few people have a major career unless they write. TS: Yeah, I agree. I think it’s really important – also from the side of ownership over what you do and make. Even if you aren’t a natural writer, you should try to involve yourself in the messages you’re sending. ALW: How does a young country artist get their first break? TS: I worked as hard as I could, reached out to as many people as I could to make sure I got meetings with publishing companies and labels. They didn’t come about very easily, but once I got in the room I’d just get out my guitar and play for them. ALW: Do you have to sing in a certain club to get to the next stage? TS: Everyone does it a different way, but the Bluebird Cafe is a place where everyone was discovered – from Garth Brooks to Faith Hill to, arguably, me. I remember being at your house after we’d written a song, and you telling me you’d bought it when you were 24 or something, that’s when I realised just how young you were when you had a vision to be doing this at such a high level. ALW: I was writing for the theatre when I was eight-years-old. I had a little toy theatre and did dreadful musicals on terrible subjects. Then, when I was about 13, I met a boy who wanted to write lyrics, and we did a couple of musicals at school. TS: So from the beginning you would pair up with a lyricist? ALW: One of the things I worked out very early was Lloyd Webber and lyrics are not a good idea. TS: Wow. It is a good alliteration, though. ALW: You were 19, weren’t you, when you had your first big hit? TS: I was about 18 when “Love Story”, a song I’d written alone, was a worldwide hit. I was lucky enough to work my way up in country music, for new artists nowadays, it feels like the trajectory of their career is like being shot out of a canon into a stratosphere they could in no way be prepared for. I got to sort of acclimate to every step of the path I was on, and by the time I had a massive hit I’d been working since I was 14. Moving from country music to pop was a crazy adjustment for me. ALW: And now we’ve written “Beautiful Ghosts” together for Cats. TS: I remember the moment. I went over to your apartment to rehearse “Macavity” and you sat down at the piano and started to play this haunting, beautiful melody, and I think I just started singing to it right away. ALW: You wrote the lyrics more or less then and there – it was fantastic. TS: It’s a different perspective on the song “Memory”, too, and the character of Grizabella [played by Jennifer Hudson], who used to have majestic, glamorous times and doesn’t anymore. On the other side of it, you have this little white cat [Victoria, played by Francesca Hayward] who’s been abandoned – she’s afraid she’ll never have a chance to have beautiful memories. So that’s where she’s singing “Beautiful Ghosts” from, to counter Grizabella’s idea of tragedy. ALW: I’d like to come back to something I thought when I heard your album, Lover – which is really absolutely brilliant. Am I right in thinking you approached its recording just as though you were giving live performances? TS: I did. I was really singing a lot at that point – I’d just come from a stadium tour, and then did Cats, which was all based on live performances – so a lot of that album is nearly whole takes. When you perform live, you’re narrating and you’re getting into the story and you’re making faces that are ugly and you’re putting a different meaning on a song every time you perform it. ALW: That’s the point isn’t it. TS: Yeah. ALW: Does that ever make you feel you want to be an actress? TS: I have no idea. When I was younger, I used to get questions like, “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?” I’d try to answer. As I get older, I’m learning that wisdom is learning how dumb you are compared to how much you are going to know. I really had an amazing time with Cats. I think I loved the weirdness of it. I loved how I felt I’d never get another opportunity to be like this in my life. ALW: It’s weird, what I’ve seen of the movie. TS: It’s decidedly weird [they laugh]. ALW: I think Tom [Hooper, the film’s director] has really tried to make something original. And I agree, I think as you get older you do become less sure of yourself and start to question what you can do. Would you consider doing a musical? TS: A musical? Absolutely, absolutely. ALW: Or writing your own? TS: That is way up there on my list of dreams. ALW: You should. TS: Was it really wonderful for you when you got the news that Judi Dench had accepted the role of Old Deuteronomy? ALW: Judi was in the original version in 1981 but she snapped her Achilles tendon and had to withdraw. Then I had this idea, which I ran past Tom, that we could make Old Deuteronomy a woman. Seeing her perform this time was quite an emotional thing for me, because it was a very, very sad day when she had to leave the original show. TS: She’s lovely. I remember being on set, and there is one scene that Idris [Elba, who plays Macavity] and I do with Judi, and someone walked up to me with this kind of gummy candy and I was like, “Oh, I’ve never had this before, this must be British candy, this is amazing.” I was raving about this candy so much, and Judi must have overheard me, because the next day I got to my dressing room and there was a signed photo from Judi and, like, six bags of it [they laugh]. Andrew, we both started young. What do we have in common from our experiences? What do you think was hard about it? And what was great? ALW: I suppose what was hard for me was that I was a fish out of the mainstream water. In the 1960s, to love musicals was as uncool as you could possibly be, and kids in my class at school would laugh at me. TS: I was the same. I loved country music and, where I was in school, the kids were just completely perplexed by that. It’s gotten more mainstream, but when I was a 13-year-old in Pennsylvania, I got similar reactions. Do you feel like you’re glad you were really young when you started? ALW: Yeah, are you? TS: I’m really glad, even though there are challenges to it – like you’re not allowed to make the same mistakes as everyone else because your mistakes are a commodity. ALW: And your mistakes are made in public. But we share something in common, in which we are extremely lucky. We both knew at an early age what we wanted to do, and most people in life don’t have a clue. TS: That’s very true. I think, also, a lot of the time when people see a career that they want it can be results-based. Rather than wanting to write musicals, they want to be a person who has written musicals. But when I see you work, I see you consistently creating and being curious about the next idea. You relish in the process even more than the rewards, which is the advice I would give anyone who wanted to do anything remotely close to this job. It cannot be about the results. ALW: It’s the process isn’t it? TS: It has to be. It’s supposed to be fun!

MEET & GREET: Introducing the faces behind this month’s issue

When it came to interviewing Taylor Swift about her musical-movie debut in Cats, there was only one man for the job: Andrew Lloyd Webber, composer of the original West End and Broadway mega hit. The two colossi of songwriting had plenty to discuss at a recording studio in north London – art, ambition and authenticity, plus what we can expect from the soon-to-be-released film.

Vogue: What was it like to work with Taylor? Andrew Lloyd Webber: She’s supremely professional and very charming with it. In my view, she could go far. Vogue: What was your first impression of her? ALW: She’s a lot taller than me, and a lot more attractive. Vogue: What’s your favourite Swift hit? ALW: “Blank Space” from the album 1989. It’s a great pop song with great lyrics.