#and im still on the same goddamn part of the part of your world song i was on an hour ago

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

Re-Animated is finally out, so that means it's time for PART 2 BABY

EVERY SONG IN ZOMBIES: THE RE-ANIMATED SERIES + SHORTS SUMMED UP IN ONE SENTENCE:

Shorts:

Endless Summer: Zeddison fight existential dread once again, and this time it's their own fault!

Nobody's Better Than Bucky(Im just guessing the title here Idk): How the fUCK DID BUCKY MANAGE TO TAME A WHOLE ASS PLANT MONSTER IN LIKE 5 MINUTES GODDAMN-

What Do We Do Right Now: Genuinely the funniest fucking song in the entire franchise

I Still See You: Ha ha Willa sang a love song to a cricket everybody point and laugh!!!

Series:

My Year (the Re-Animated Remix): GOD I wish we got to see the full version animated...

Repeat: Why the fuck do you people want to redo your senior year of highschool!?!?!?

Zed's Plan: This has the EXACT same energy as the montage song from South Park lmfao

Zoda: Glad to see they're fully leaning into Zed's "clearly becoming class president will let me change the towns laws" bs from the 2nd movie, makes that whole thing feel slightly less stupid

A Zombie and Her Machine: Eliza why are you like this

It's Free Period: Interior crocadile alligator core

Underwater Airplane: It's just Wynter shouting random shit into a microphone Idk what to tell you

When Worlds Collide: I have no clue what the hell she's talking about but at least the song is catchy asf!

Be An Alpha: Now introducing; BUCKY AND WILLA'S MUSICAL ALPHA MALE PODCAST!!!!!!!

We're Bringin' It: Bucky why are you like this

You're Dae: It's me, Bucky, yeah(I'm incredible)

Welcome to Seabrook: Don't have much to say on this tbh it's just the opening number of a school musical, it's def dethroned I'm Winning as least memorable in the series no competition-

Shrimpossible: I didn't understand most of what he was saying but goddamn if Trevor Todjman didn't put his all into that preformance

Meant to Combine: Wyatt and Eliza you cheesy motherfuck- oh shit they're vegans they don't eat cheese nvm

Be Like Me: Basic ass montage song is basic

It's Okay: Men would rather create a giant mud monster, get eaten, and hallucinate their sister singing a song to them before going to therapy smh

I'm a Cat: RAZZMATAZZ MENTION!!!!!!!!

I'm a Box: Literally the best way they could've wrapped up that episode

Back 2 Back: I don't have anything to say about this one either tbh, but it's more memorable than the opening number to the musical!

Okay that's it. Expect a part 3 when the rest of season 1 comes out because there are supposed to be 34 fUCKING songs in this show and these are only 18 of them!?!?!?! Plus I have no idea when the rest of the season is coming out. So.

Also I'll make a Part 4 when the 4th movie comes out :)

Part 1

[lilietsblog]

thinking about the world tourism and what it means in soviet (+ post-soviet) context vs the rest of the world

so the soviet union for all it pretended to be a federation - a union, you might say - was absolutely russian empire 2.0, now with bonus totalitarianism.

and being russian empire means that there are exactly 2 (two) modern cities with architecture and culture and history worth visiting: moscow and st. petersburg. and while of course there might be some silly provincials visiting them and gawking (in moscow usually while on a business trip or study trip or something, as moscow is the center of everything as is well known), the only people that MATTER, that get in any way catered or appealed to, culturally or politically, already live in moscow and have been to st petersburg for one reason or another. (they say some people also live in st petersburg but that's mostly mythical cultural icons or something)

what does this leave for tourism?

well, russia might only have two human settlements, one real and one a mythical legend (it's true, just ask any moscowite who has ever posted an address online), but it has a lot of Majestic, Untamed Nature for humanity to conquer!

(what do you mean people already live there? well maybe they do but they haven't conquered it have they. the mountain still stands, so they are basically part of the majestic landscape)

(and of course the rest of the world outside the majestic russia (im sorry i mean the soviet union wink wink) is scary evil bourgoisie, and to even go on a business trip outside the country you must pass stringent background & ideological checks, for yourself and your entire family and friend circle. obviously)

so, the "tour" part of "tourism" does not refer to the tour guide who shows you the local landmarks and gives you a historical lecture, it refers to the thrifty local who offers to show you that path through the woods so you don't get lost. or it refers to nothing at all, and tourists just barge through everything based on maps and some compasses. or go down rivers, which is marginally more reliable. they're not the foreign-language-speaking elderly folk with cameras who stay in the nearest hotel in the big city, they're the band of filthy, tired, cheerful backpackers with whining exhausted children who raid your village grocery store, empty it of pasta, salami, tomato juice and ice cream, ask you for directions to the nearest well or water pump, then for the next landmark they're looking for (which might be right there at the end of the village or over on the next mountain because they took the wrong turn), then collectively tromp off.

theres a song about this, specific to people who do this on weekends in the nearest forest (also apparently dedicated to the time when there was only one (1) weekend) (it's about the bitter rivalry of people who do this with people who farm on their dachas in the same one weekend in the same rural area, competing for space on public transportation and local forage, including sometimes the goddamn fields / kitchen gardens being treated as forage by the damn university kids with no money and no shame)

i was one of those (the mountains kind, not the nearest forest kind) once a year throughout my childhood and adolescence, ever since I was old enough by my parents' reckoning to put a backpack on me and make me walk all day every day for a week, which was when I was five. i absolutely couldnt walk all day and bitched and moaned non stop (unfortunately in a way that made my parents think i was just being whiny and not that my feet are fucked up and i am having aches that a healthy child absolutely should not be having), but nonetheless i loved it with my whole heart immediately and next year there was a whole thing with my parents blackmailing me into doing damn near anything they asked just so they'd take me with them again. (years later, as an adult, i found out that that was the year when i suddenly started peeing my pants randomly and that my mom took me to a clinic and had it politely explained to her that it's out of stress and that she should give up on the battle to make me eat things i feel nauseous even thinking about. so that's how that happened i guess)

i... have been a tourist in the other, civilized sense like four or five times in my life. (three school-organized class trips to neighbouring countries, one study course in England where we spent most of our time on the tour bus getting immersed in the language, and maybe something else i'm forgetting)

but it's not what the word means to me and it never will

(relaxing near a body of water is not tourism. it's when your workplace gives you papers for their sanatorium so you go there for your mandatory paid time off and Rest, for your health. The Resters are not the same as The Tourists at all, as they have 0 interest in local landmarks or going anywhere beyond the nearest two blocks or the distance from the sanatorium building to the shore, they're more or less locals in the first place and go the same place every year since that's where their workplace sends them. it's specifically a different word)

(if you're keeping count, this makes 3 culturally defined ways to spend your vacation or weekend somewhere that's not your home in front of the tv: The Dacha (partial sustenance farming, leaves you more physically tired but arguably healthier, and definitely richer by all the vegetables and fruit you can grow there), The Rest (veg out at some nearby body of water, swim if you're into it, just lie there with a book cosplaying a dead fish if you aren't) and The Tourism (walk paths heretofore untrodden except by all the other tourists, don't make fires outside of places marked on your map that have remnants of previous fires already visible, play guitar badly and sing very loud in the evenings))

(visiting other human settlements (don't tell the moscowites but they do exist) and staying at hotels happens too but it's not vacation, it's Work Trips, and they can be very much competed for in local office politics even in the 99% of cases when they aren't to beyond the iron curtain)

P.S. I just want to make it clear that when I use the words "tourist" and "tourism" for this it's not a case of arbitrary translation confusing two concepts. the words in Russian and Ukrainian are "turist" and "turizm" which you can recognize as excessively literal transliterations of words that were themselves literal transliterations of "tourist" and "tourism". That is literally the words we use for this.

P.P.S. the fall of the soviet union has opened other possibilities but id say the words still mostly mean the same thing. its just that The Rest in the sense of going to a body of water has been expanded to possibly be in Egypt or France or something, and to possibly include some landmark walking (controversial within families)

P.P.S. Ukraine has never been as centralized as russia and other cities than Kyiv exist. However it is significantly smaller so it's actually realistic to have friends / relatives / business in all the major cities you want an excuse to visit, plus it has enough nature to maintain the idea of tourism as mostly a nature-visiting activity, just maybe in a car instead of on two feet with a backpack now. and you know the non-nature landmarks along the way as you pass through cities. this is a whole new thing and i dont think theres a distinct cultural reaction to it yet. I will however note that the fourth distinct way to spend your time outside of your place has coalesced: The Volunteering, which absolutely can and does take you all over the country depending on what volunteering event you sign up for. my best friend irl does this a lot and ive been to like two events like this with her and its awesome, though it does require you to have a lot of Youthful Energy and a longing to do some physical labor instead of whatever else you do all day normally. obviously involves visiting places and their landmarks, still not tourism lmao

P.P.P.S tourism in our sense is a fully gender neutral activity, and in fact a common COUPLES thing. everyone knows theres no sex in soviet union, but when there's a tent and two young people in love, well don't ask don't tell as they say amirite. (privacy is thin on the ground when young people are expected to and usually only can live with their parents until at least after they get married since that's the only way to have an apartment distributed to them from the government, or to have their parents exchange their bigger apartment for multiple smaller ones) (there is in fact a whole cultural sub-thing about all-girl groups struggling to recruit at least one boy to come with to Ensure Their Safety to their worried parents and also do manly things like split firewood and carry a marginally bigger portion of heavy things in exchange for a larger portion at mealtimes) (all-boy groups notably dont have this problem and are expected to be able to cook Tourist Porridge for themselves just fine)

also theres another song - admittedly just a couplet - about this meaning of tourism, apparently a parody/corruption of another song: "где бронепоезд не пройдет // не пролетит стальная птица // турист на пу, на пу, на пузе проползет // и ничего с ним не случится!" "where an armored train won't pass // a steel bird won't fly through // a tourist on his bell, bell, belly'll crawl // and nothing'll happen to him" so that probably gives you a bit more of an insight into the cultural attitude there XD

[writerracha]

OKAY GONNA START SCREAMING

I think wish you back, like volcano, contains a deeper meaning besides missing a lover. THE ENTIRE SONG IS A EUPHEMISM FOR WANTING YOUR OLD/CHILDHOOD SELF BACK SHSHDJDJEK TELL ME IM WRONG

firstly, the chorus. "you were my story" is his younger self, his past self, which is why it's his story - it's his life. he gathers those memories and looks at the photographs of him when he was younger, and cherishes them because he can't go back. he's reminiscing about the past, the good times that he once had, when he had no worries and was happy.

the first verse is even more obvious: maybe he's going through something, or in the process of growing up, he slowly lost the sense of carefreeness and happiness he once had. and it makes him think back to those times when he still had those feelings. he wonders if he'll lose that memory, too. "put your small hands together" is an even more obvious hint that he was a kid then. "in the days when every moment was beautiful and splendid" is EXACTLY the feeling you have as a child where you're not consumed by worries and anxiety. "you were the main character in the movie called me" JUST CONFIRMS IT. because ONLY HIS PAST SELF CAN BE THE MAIN CHARACTER OF HIS MOVIE AHSJEKKEKE

and he says that even if he travels around the world, fill his mind with other thoughts, he can't outrun it, because this feeling is inside of him. he can't escape it.

he wishes his old self back. he's tired of "sitting in a room all day long and turning off the light". he doesn't feel okay, but he knows that he can't go back to the past. you can't rewind time, and even though maybe his past self made a promise to himself to not be defeated, it falls forfeit when he had to say goodbye to his past self as he grew up.

and even though he knows this, he's still holding out for a chance that one day, he can be as happy and carefree as his past self was again. he looks at the picture of his younger self and himself right now, and he wants to be able to see himself smile so brightly again in the mirror. he doesn't want to feel this way anymore. so he holds out hope, and waits.

IDK IT COULD BE A SONG ABOUT A LOVER THAT GOT AWAY OR STH,, but idk the lyrics are kinda way too ambiguous for me to think that way, especially the parts about the main character of his movie ajsjsnsm

OKAY BUT ALSO IF WISH YOU BACK IS ABOUT HIS PAST SELF CLOSE COULD BE ABOUT HIS FUTURE SELF AHSJJSKWKS OK ILL STOP

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE AND I ADORE YOU FOR THIS. I CANT TELL YOU YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!

I absolutely love this analysis. Because I truly believe Jisung is very good at self exploration and introspection HOW CAN HE NOT BE. This man overthinks everything I'm pretty sure about it and his medium is song writing. SO DEFINITELY!!!!!!!! That makes so much sense I don't even know what to tell you except stand up and CLAP

i think all of his songs have double, triple, multiple meaning, it's the beauty of his story telling, he writes about so many things so you can apply it to what speaks to u. that's also just good narrative skills in my opinion. if your story is too obvious it can be good but for me somethng that is open to interpretation is even better, and ji does that so perfectly he understands that i think. or if he doesn't he's just a genius WHICH IS ALSO TRUE

like definitely a past self. his past self. but also his other selves?? all the people he could have been?? and sometimes you change but you want to get that person back??? "the photo engraved in my heart"... i also love how he's able to portray that when we miss someone (or ourselves) it is triggered by things in our day, it doesn't happen in the same manner. it's about being haunted by something but also "you're on my mind MORE TODAY" like. some days you wake up and you're inhabited by something. and that speaks to it SO MUCH. and THE WAY HE SINGS THAT DESPAIR AND FEELING HIS VOICE SENDS ME EVERY GODDAMN TIME THERE'S SO MUCH IN IT AOISFHASF

i also love that he talks about missing something and that it hurts and that we accept this hurt because missing someone also means we care, we love, we are human. and that's so beautiful. THE HUMANITY IN HIS SONGS

I mean I can imagine how someone like Ji could miss previous days... it must be a tough life sometimes, going back to being "carefree" or being "no one"... I get that. That makes me emotional because it's not that he doesn't like his life now, missing our younger self is not about hating our life now, it's just about nostalgia and that's so ok. ANYWAY WOW I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG IMMA STOP NOW but thank you for sharing that. truly. i appreciate it so so much, thank you for trusting me with your thoughts

LOTS OF LOVE

(CLOSE NEXT?????)

[gamestop-compendium]

101 Pinball World (Teyon, 2012)

who greenlit this and can i go back in time to get them to un-greenlight it

the game 101 Pinball World is a dsiware title that attempts to be 4 themed pinball cabinets from the comfort of your nintendo dsi. it fails at this. the word "game" is doing some serious heavy lifting also

it boasts 4 worlds with a total of 101 tables when combined, but every "world" is really just the same set of board with different coats of paint. your ball can get stuck in places it cant get out of without tilting (which entirely disables your flippers until the ball is offscreen) and its happened to me multiple times a game before. it has 3 save files if you want to subject your friends to it and promptly lose said friends over it. someone made a trailer for it and noted how you can get a slow ball, tilt the board, or even have Ball Immunity, the number one funniest thing about this title

the sound design is both lacking and overwhelming at the same time. but the worst part is the... music? do i call it music? does it count as music? does any of this matter? does it ever end? do we get some sort of retribution for the horrendous auditory crimes of 101 Pinball World? i can answer none of these questions. as if you can even hear the music over the atrociously-mixed sounds of flippers and bumpers and points screaming from the ds speakers

here is the "soundtrack"/torment, uploaded in a video by a definitely unremarkable person who definitely didnt make a game everyone was talking about in like 2018. no siree. never happened

mystmans commentary on the game is pretty on-point, speaking as someone who decided this game was a good thing to spend my precious dsi shop money on a decade ago. i still get the title theme stuck in my head from time to time, though, since thats like the 2nd best song in the game. theres only 5 songs in this entire 5-dollar game, by the way. and also it was 5 entire dollars

which means theres no reason to rank them individually /ref

5. wizard theme - hilariously garbage. "ah shit, someone killed the keyboard player." worst thing i think ive ever heard from the ds. its even worse in person believe me. this is not music

4. space theme - kinda bland? idk. its like one synth loop forever. could be worse though, wizard theme proves that real well. has a weird buzzing in the back that really makes my brain hurt. i like the little ascending-descending sounds! very fun i forgot about those

3. pirate theme - good song, but ABSOLUTELY not pirate music. this sounds more like a beta track from club penguin: elite penguin force. i bet if you changed the soundfont itd fit the penguin bill just fine

2. title theme - catchy but empty. its like how modern deco*27 songs feel to me: good melody and beat, hollow instrumental. used to be 7-year-old-mes jam though. BEAUTIFUL bassline. goddamn. just gimme this for the whole ost honestly. itd only get a little grating.

1. spooky theme - regularly gets stuck in my head, albeit a better version i thought of so im not tormenting myself forever. this is what a song should sound like. it feels like this was made first and then the devs started running out of time to get the game out. keyboard drones in the back kinda give me a headache. but tbf that happens with all of the music and this is just the one that does it the least

overall, this game isnt even worth it for the bit. do not play this. i have found few games that are worse. maybe ill talk about them eventually. one day 101 Minigolf World will have its day. not yet though. 101 Pinball World was a soulless shovelware cash grab and it wasnt even fun. what a waste of 5 bucks. shame on you tiny tadpole past gio

overall rating: 2.7 - Real Bad. has 2 good music tracks and the menu ui looks nice. boring, broken, and somewhat painful under the surface -- like broken glass hidden under a shitty old paper-thin rug. cost too much money on the dsi shop channel for what it is. Do Not Play.

[nightfall-kachiniko]

hi i really loved your pranks work! can i request one where reader pranks same aot girls but add hitch? the prank is reader pretending to watch other girls dance sexy on tiktok bc of the suggestive audio 😂

Oooo! Okay dear!

AOT girls reacting to you pranking them! (Might do a part 2 depends )

Includes:

Mikasa, Annie, Pieck, Hitch, Ymir, Historia

Mikasa-

The both of you were chilling in the living room when you decided to pull the prank eren wanted you to do on her. You sat in the living chilling on tiktok and tapped on a video with a cat dancing to ‘sexy’ music LMAO-

You chuckled under your breath and mumbled ‘hot’. You saw her head turn from her paperwork to you swiftly out of the corner of your eye. “What did you say?” She asked sternly. You quickly put down your phone and looked back at her, “hm?”

“No no no who did you just call hot? And what the hell are you watching?” Her gaze made you feel a lump in your throat. “No one,” you mumbled. You went back on your phone scrolling to the next video. “Hand me your phone, now.”

“H-huh?”

“You called another girl hot as she’s what stripping? Dancing? Huh?”

“No I didn’t,”

“Y/n hand your your phone now, I’m not playing around.”

“O-okay okay fine!” You giggled and smirked as you handed her the phone as the video of the cat dancing seductively (LMAO THIS IS SO HARD TO WRITE IM CRYINGG)

She stared back up at you in just ‘wtf?’ Type of look LMAO- You bursted out laughing at her facial expression, almost in tears. “HAHAHAHAHAH ISNT SHE SEXY THO?” You pointed to the phone. Mikasa just tisked and turned away from you, doing the rest of her paperwork.

Conclusion: no cuddles tonight >:(

Annie:

You decided to do this prank when you both were watching TV while cuddling. You got a ‘message’ on your phone and as soon as you ‘opened it ‘ it started playing a heated song and as you looked at the phone you whispered a small ‘nice ass’.

Annie immediately pushed you off of her, rage heating up in her face. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Huh? What?”

“Who’s the bitch with the nice ass huh!?” Your girlfriends voice got louder with anger, furious that you would say such a thing. “Baby what are you talking about?”

“DONT ‘BABY’ MY ASS! YOU SAID SOMEONE HAS A NICE ASS!” DANGGG this all went wrong. You didn’t expect her to be this mad.

“YOU KNOW WHAT GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN PHONE!” You backed up as she snatched your phone dom your hands tapping on the screen trying to figure out who. Hehe... it was a cat..teeHe...with a big booty ;)

You started giggling and laughing as she just stood in shock. She turned her head to you and threw a pillow straight in your face tackling you down on the couch.

Pieck:

The two of you were just chilling at a cafe in the center of town. You were scrolling on your phone as you took a sip of your tea, your girlfriend doing the same.

This was the perfect tone to pull the prank >:)

You pulled up the video of the smexy music and the cat dancing and looking it up and down, giving it a small wink (LMAO WHAT-)

“Hot tits” you mumbled as you went to take a sip of your tea. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her head lit up from her phone and to your face, her eyes in confusion.

“Who?” She said softly, almost like she wasn’t mad or anything. “Hm?”

“Who did you say had a nice chest? >:(“ she pouted now looking at you concerned ed, her phone hitting the table. “Oh? I didn’t say anything”

“Yes you did! Who is on your phone!” Her voice got a bit louder.

“Babe- chill no one,” you said, smirking as you scrolled down.

She snatched the phone from your hands her eyes in frustration. As she watched the video her eyes turned to realizations and then back to her pout as you laughed at her expressions.

The cart titan slid your phone back to you rolling her eyes. “Meanie”

Hitch:

Ooo just your luck. The both of your guys day had just started as hitch was getting dressed, tossing off her pajama shirt and reaching for a new one. You played the audio and looked at the phone like you were in some type of trance, fascinated almost. “She’s hot as hell” you said, still looking at your screen.

The light brown haired woman paused for a second. “The fuck did you say? Who’s hot?!” She turned back facing you, a new shirt halfway on her. “This girl on here?” You said

“Woah, first of all I know you did not just call another person hot when your with the hottest girl in the damn world. Second, did you just backtalk me!?”

And within a second her hand was reached out for your phone. “Let me see this bitch, she has nothing on me”

She snatched the phone away from you as she looked at the video with the cat. Tears of laughter coming out of yourself.

“Tsk, you little rascal” she said throwing your phone back at you.

Ymir:

You decided to pull this at a party that hitch dragged you and your parent to.

You told your friend that you’d be pulling this prank as you both were talking. Ymir was having a conversation with christa as you said “Shitt, look at her,” you said winking at your phone screen, “she’s hot”

Your girlfriend looked at you like you had just lost your damn head. And out of the corner of your eye you saw the freckled girl approach you, stomping up to you.

“THE FUCK Y/N!?” She yelled, snatching your phone. Everyone went quiet as she stared at the screen with disgust.

“I hate you” she said pushing the phone back into your hands as you were filled with laughter.

Historia:

You were in the queens meeting when you pulled out your phone to ‘look at this girl’ you smirked, making sure Historia saw as you pretended to. Her stared at you in disbelief and as soon as the meeting was over she called you in.

“Darling, what were you looking at on your phone that made you look like that,?!” She questioned harshly as she took off her crown, placing it on a cousin.

“Oh? Why does it concern you?”

“Maybe because your my partner?!” She said more sternly.

“Fine why don’t you look at her yourself,” you said pulling out your phone and giving it to her.

She just stared with a ‘why’ type of face as you laughed.

[redlipsanddaydreams]

having a shit attention span is watching the little mermaid live and as soon as you see the people dancing it reminds you of Taylor’s artist of the decade performance of Lover ft Misty and Craig’s beautiful dance so you pause the little mermaid to watch that and then get sucked into a rabbit hole that ends with a “Steve Rogers being an actual boomer for 3 minutes straight” video which reminds you of king triton and that you were watching the little mermaid once upon a time ago so you go on that screen and are right back at the dancers again and as soon as that finished you pause to watch the speak now world tour enchanted intro with the ballet dancers because it was beautiful and it reminded you of that and then accidentally watch like 10 dancing with the stars performances on youtube before remembering you were watching the little mermaid

[faithinthefuture28]

Larry songs timeline & what it tells us about the evolution of their relationship

**These are all just my interpretations but the more I listen to the music they wrote, the more it all fits together. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THROUGHOUT THE YEARS THEY’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT WRITING “AUTOBIOGRAPHICALLY” AND “FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCE”

I deffo missed some songs but these stood out to me:

2013

L-Strong: Love isn’t easy (waves trying to break it) but what we have means something and it’s worth fighting for. read: love is only for the brave (Think of how much love that’s been wasted...there’s nothing i’m running from...i don’t care, I’m not scared of love) And we bring out the best in each other so lets not throw this away (i’d do anything to save it...when i’m not with you i’m weaker). 

H-Happily: I want to fight for us too bc we’re on fire and our love is powerful af. ik we have to do stunts and stuff (and if (s)he feels my traces in your hair, sorry love but I don’t really care) but what we have is insane and fuck everyone else bc you’re MINE and i’m YOURS at the end of the day (i wanna be the one who holds you when you sleep). Together, we’re magic so just be with me so happily

H-Something Great: ****this song is very straightforward so i won’t explain it much***** (i want you here with me like how i pictured it so i dont have to keep imagining... We’re better off together here tonight). Written as a longing for what could be if they dont have to suppress the relationship. (script was written...want to rip it all to shreds) Louis’ response (you’re all I want so much it’s hurting) basically says “it’s not too much to ask babe, i want it too.” This has the kind of longing that ‘wouldn’t it be nice- beach boys’ which Harry has admitted is kind of a theme song. 

L-Through the Dark: I know all this bs we’re going through is taking a toll on you and hurts you and i hate seeing you upset (you tell me that your sad...you tell me that you’re hurt and youre in pain and i can see your head is held in shame...i just wanna see you smile again) but I will do everything physically possible to protect you from any pain bb (i’d never let you fall and break your heart, if u wanna cry or fall apart, i’ll be there to hold ya). We’re going through this together and I will take on any responsibility needed to keep you happy.  I’M WILLING TO GO THROUGH HELL TO FIGHT FOR US HARRY LOVE (entire chorus basically).

L-Better than Words: holy fuck our love is amazing can’t even describe it can i just sing to you foreva love u babycakes

L-Why don’t we go there: what if...we just forgot about the world and escaped and enjoyed each others love and rode the high??? Also sex

2014

L-Ready to Run: *******Followup to Why Don’t We Go There*********** But this time let’s escape for real bc (there’s me inside a sinking boat running out of time). Like i’m ready to get out of here and it could just be us living happily ever after (this time i’m ready to run). Honestly nothing else makes sense (without you i’ll never make it out alive...wherever you are is the place i belong). I know what i want out of life and IT’S YOU HARREH (i want to be free and i wanna be yours, i will never look back). 

L-Steal My Girl: all u thirsty hoes find someone else bc Harry is MY pretty princess. Srsly ask his family. But you can still admire how he looks in those jeans. We all do. You know the ones

L-No Control: boy u fine, let’s do what lovers do IN THE MORNING. bc we can. also you own me and i am urs

L-Clouds: WE KNEW THIS WAS GONNA BE HARD SO WHY ARE YOU BEING A LITTLE BITCH (you dont like it complicated...but love is never ever simple...you are tired of all the changes, but love is always always changing). We could be great yo, just keep fighting (if we’re never coming back down, we’ll looking down on the clouds...we go and we go and we dont stop)

H-Where do Broken Hearts Go: IM SORRY LOU BABY YOURE EVERYTHING (rest of my crimes dont come close the look on your face when i let you go... the taste of your lips...is at the top of the list of things i want). H&L’s call and  response at the end is basically forgiveness and acknowledgment (come on baby come and get me out, come on baby cuz i need you now)

H-Two Ghosts: *****was written around this time according to Harry******. This is fucking hard yo. We’re drained and exhausted and idk how much more we can fight for this... (it’s not you and it’s not me...sounds like something that i used to feel). That infatuation and electricity and hope that fueled our younger selves isn’t really there anymore and i’m just tired man (we’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat, we’re not who we used to be...this was all we used to need). We’re empty vessels going through the motions (same eyes blue, couple more tattoos). AND WE AREN’T FUCKING COMMUNICATING (we dont say what we really mean). 

2015

H&L-Perfect: so what if... we get rid of the pressure of forever? What if we just have fun doing the stupid shit we love and makes us feel alive (trouble up in hotel rooms, secret little rendezvous, things you know that we shouldn’t do). Like we won’t be out of each others’ lives, I’m still around and we can find comfort in each other and even mess around here and there (I can be the one you love from time to time). Remember how we used to be young and EXCITED (when i first saw you from across the room, i could tell that you were curious) let’s get that energy back without the responsiblity of an adult relationship. And we can keep making art lmao (if youre looking for someone to write your breakup songs about). 

L-Long Way Down *****this song fkn hurts man. It’s overlooked a lot but shows so much insight**** We were...everything. And maybe that’s the problem? We’ve been through so fucking much, more than anyone our age should have to endure. (We've been in fire, Went down in the flames. We sailed the ocean And drowned in the waves. Built a cathedral But we never prayed) We didn’t know what we had. We were damn kids man. We weren’t prepared for all this. We didn’t know how powerful this would be. We didn’t know what it required of us. (We had a mountain But took it for granted. We had it all yeah. Who could’ve planned it). We didn’t know what to do with it, how to deal with it, so here we are. (We had a spaceship But we couldn't land it) We’re each other’s everything, but we can’t keep going on like this babe. (We found an island But we got stranded). I don’t want to leave you but being together is breaking us down. (Point of no return and now It's just too late to turn around) We thought we were untouchable. That love conquers all. Maybe, we were wrong. This is gonna hurt like a bitch (We built it up so high and now I'm fallin', it’s a long way down)

H-Olivia: I LIVE FOR YOU, I LONG FOR YOU, I LOVE YA. And i think i’ll always love ya. And I’m scared...of life without you (i get the feeling you’re walking out, time is irrelevant when i’ve not been seeing you, the consequences are falling now, there’s something i’m having nightmares about...dont let me go). But maybe just maybe thats okay, because you’re AIMH (you live in my imagination...i love you, it’s all i do). 

L-Love you Goodbye: I fucking love you and I’ll always fucking love you but i think this is the right thing to do even though it feels so wrong (i know there’s nothing i can do to change it, but is there something that can be negotiated?) We made some goddamn fireworks together though (unforgettable together held the whole world in our hands) and do ya maybe think...we can make them just once more? (if tomorrow you wont be mine, let me give it to you one last time, baby let me love you goodbye...one more taste of your lips just to bring me back to the places we’ve been and the nights we’ve had because if this is it, then at least we could end it riiiiight). ********in the interview with our FAVE Gwen Garcia, she asked if it’s better to say goodbye and end a relationship that’s not feeling right or keep trying even if your heart’s not in it. Harry responds with “I think it’s better to say goodbye...but sometimes if youre trying to protect..” Then Louis cuts him off and says “you’re going deep aren’t you”, brushing the question off as a joke but imho i think there was pain in that answer. Then Harry continues “if you’re not 100% in it, I think it’s better for both parties if you say goodbye”. And Louis adds a “yeah” at the end.********

H-Walking in the Wind: I know this is scary but i think we can do it, (you said to me do you believe i’ll be too far? if youre lost just look for me you’ll find me) I think because youre AIMH and i’m always in yours, it’ll be good for us. And look at us being mature, we’re killing it babe. We can live our separate lives and grow on our own. We dont need to make it messy and hurtful. We’re on the same page. (the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we’ve already won. A necessity for apologies between you and me, baby there is none). At this point, we’re kinda part of each other right? So it’s healthy for us to be apart for a bit. (it’s not the end, i’ll see your face again... i know we’ll be alright...just close your eyes and see i’ll be by your side any time you need me). And you’ve helped me grow into the person I am, and I you, so that’s cool as hell, right? (you will find me in places that we’ve never been). We had a TON of fun (we had some good times didnt we) so i feel okay that we’re doing this (goodbyes are bittersweet) and starting the next adventure in our lives. 

H-If I could fly: I. am. yours. Louis. William. Tomlinson. (for your eyes only, i’ll show you my heart). Maybe this growth thing isn’t worth it, let me prove to you how much you mean to me (i think i might give up everything just ask me to). This is gonna be hard as shit because i’m so dependent on you (i’m missing half of me when we’re apart). I’m being honest and I’m being scared and I’m being vulnerable because I can’t lie to you and pretend I’m strong (i let my guard down, right now i’m completely defenseless). But we’re part of each other, right? (i could feel your heart inside of mine). I’ll always be here for you Lou (for when you’re lonely and forget who you are) even if for now we can’t physically be together. 

L-Home: I’ve tried, Harry. I’ve tried to play pretend (told myself i kind of like her but there was something missin in her eyes). But i was lost (i was stumblin, lookin in the dark with an empty heart) because none of it was enough, none of it was YOU (it was there i sawr it in your eyes). And then i met you and you felt the same and we’re both lost souls playing pretend who found magic in each other (but you say you feel the same, could we ever be enough?) Is our love enough to overcome everything? Maybe we can be enough. Maybe I can make this enough, let me try to make it enough for you. And if we go our separate ways, know that I’m here for you no matter what. I won’t let you be lost again. (When you’re lost I’ll find a way and I’ll be your light, you will never feel like you’re alone, I’ll make this feel like home). So go. wander. find yourself. Then when you’re ready, come home. 

 2016-2017

H- Sweet Creature: ***Harry admit that this was the first song he wrote for the album**** We aren’t in the best place rn. We’ve been fighting (had another talk about where it’s going wrong...it’s hard when we argue, we’re both stubborn). But it’s you Louis. It can’t be anyone else. (don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong... wherever I go, you bring me home). That’s not even a question. I’m still trying to figure out who I am, but the one thing I know is that a large part of who I am is you (we started 2 hearts in one home). And aint no way I’m losing that part of myself (when i run out of road, you bring me home). It was always you. 

H-MMITH: Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready (just let me know i’ll be at the door,  hoping you’ll come around). I know I need to work on myself a little more (i gotta get better, and maybe we’ll work it out) but honestly i’m getting impatient and i want things to go back to how they were and i want to be yours again (once you go without it, nothing else would do). But I can’t communicate this to you clearly so let me just put this in a song and hope you get it (we dont talk about it, it’s something we dont do) ****Harry mentioned in an interview that he expresses himself through songwriting when he can’t say the words directly to a person because it’s easier to just write it in a song than have difficult conversations*****

H-ESNY: ****honestly no idea what this song is about but it’s something to do with them fighting and not communicating and being in a weird place before their relationship is rekindled******* edit: this could be about his stepdad

H-FTDT: I MISS YOU AND I’M TOO FULL OF PRIDE TO TELL YOU DIRECTLY JUST COME BACK INTO LIFE LOU I’M LONELY AND SAD AND EMPTY AND IM NOT FUCKING FINDING MYSELF LIKE YOU SAID I WOULD (woke up alone, played with myself where were you...we havent spoke since you went away, why wont you ever say what you wanna say) So until then I sit and wait for your sorry ass to make the first move (maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too...but you never do). Also like i have to hear from other people how you are?? (i saw your friend that you know from work, he said that you feel just fine) ANd you’re sharing OUR clothes with people?? wtf just swallow your pride and call me 

L-Miss You: OKAY BUT I CANT JUST CALL YOU BECAUSE I HAVE PRIDE TOO also my mates are trying to make me get over you (now i’m asking my friends how to say I’m sorry, they say lad give it ttime there’s no need to worry, and we can’t even be on the phone now). So i’m just numbing your absence with partying and drinks but CLEARLY ITS NOT WORKING (should be laughing but there’s something wrong...shit maybe i miss you...when i feel it coming up i just throw it all away, get another few shots cuz it doesn’t matter anyway...such a good time, i’ll believe it this time). This is weird bc like you were my everything but im trying to get used to this and it fucking sux (oh how shit changes, we were in love, now we’re strangers). And tbh, its scary af bc what if this is it (i’m asking myself, is it over?). BUT ALSO LIKE WTF U COULD REACH OUT FIRST YA KNOW (i’ve been checking my phone all evening).

H-Anna: wtf Louis how do you not see how much this is killing me. I miss you so much and seeing you on tv or in pics drives me wild bc you’re not mine. (I don’t want your sympathy but you don’t know what you do to me...everytime I see your face there’s only so much I can take...I guess it would be nice if I can touch your body). And idk if you’re replacing me (don’t know where you’re laying, just know it’s not with me) and we’re in SUCH a weird place rn how do I tell u you’re the loml (don’t know what I’d say if I passed you on the street...don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth) so I refuse to put this song on the album and let you know this and give you satisfaction from knowing how gone I still am for you bc I have 0 idea how you feel (hope you never see this and know that it’s for you)

L-Always You: SO THIS IS ME SWALLOWING MY PRIDE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU SAYING IM SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT... ok but fr i miss u i miss u i miss u i miss u and nothing else compares like i can travel the whole world and all i think about is how much more fun it was with you and the memories we shared and i wish i could just say thx fr th mmrs and move on but actually no thx actually fuck you for making me not able to enjoy my life without you. So like...come home? and wrap your legs around me? also lmao i took El to a gay bar in amsterdam for her bday lmao i miss u come cuddle me and i’ll tell you all about it

L-We Made It: looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come my baby. They saidd I bett they’ll never make it, but just look at us holding onn, we’re still togetherr, still going stronggg. Also to the fans, miss our single bed and the nights we talked about our dreams :-* also Andrew my man luv u

2018-2019

L-KMM: our love was youthful and exhilarating and fucking electric and i think it still can be. dont know what i’d do without you now H 

L-DLIBYH: We’re strong babe and we’ve grown and we aren’t gonna let life drag us down. I’m doing better, you’re doing better, this is what we wanted. And now any shit we go through, we’ll go through TOGETHER 

L-Too Young: Okay but looking back, that was a lot of shit we went through and we were just babies and i’m sorry for not fighting harder (i cant believe i gave in to the pressure when they said a love like this would never last so i cut you off cuz i didnt know no better) baby i tried, i tried to protect you but like it was just so much and i hate that you got hurt and i wont ever let that happen again. ALso go us for being mature and COMMUNICATING (face to face at the kitchen table, we can finally have a conversation that I wish we could’ve had before). ANd i know you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry so here let ME say i’m sorry that i hurt you darling. Like we were too young to know we had everything BUT now we’re old(er) and can realize that when we’re together, we DO have everything now and omg is this our happily ever after and we can have a daughter and name her Darcy 

L-Habit: do i need to spell it out for you iiiiii aaaaaaaaammmmmmm sssssssoooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy. But tbh i let you go because it felt right because mentally you were already out the door and i needed to give you room to grow babe. And i needed the space too (you gave me the time and the space i was out of control and i’m sorry i let you down). but like also i’ve learned i can’t escape you Styles. You’re always in my fucking heart and my fucking mind and in every essence of my being and somehow I knew that 9 years ago and it took me this long to realize how powerful this really is (guess that that i know what i already knew, i was better with you and i miss you now). Ooooh also my favorite line i wrote (took some time cuz i ran out of energy of playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be and honestly i dont have to choose anymore) like who am i kidding, im done pretending i just wanna be yoursss now

L-Defenseless: I can’t help it okay theres something about you that doesn’t let me stay away. I need you and I know that rekindling this relationship isn’t going to be easy even though it feels so so right. It’s going to be hard work (sleeping on our problems but we’ll solved them in our dreams, wake up early morning and it’s still under the sheets) and we need to communicate and solve our problems but here I am, raw and unfiltered and emotionally naked in front of you ready to lay it all on the table (not sure how to say this right, got so much to lose. NEver been so defenseless). So like this branch I’m reach out to you and you be honest with me too babe (you dont have to keep on being strong for me and you. Acting like you feel no pain, you know i know you do...I can’t get inside, when you’re lost in your pride but you don’t have a thing to prove). Be open with me. Lets talk. Let’s solve problems. Lets have an adult relationship. I’m asking for a little vulnerabiltiy babe. It’s just me. Theres nothing to be scared of

L-Walls: And here you have me in my purest form. No lies, no secrets, no insecurities to hide behind. Losing you was fucking painful but i got through it. I’ve been through hell and back and I’ve fought. And without you, I grew into the person I am. And any further growing i’m doing is gonna be with you. bc it was all for you babe. and honestly i can take anything life throws at me now. I’m strong baby. I’m fucking strong and fucking brave and fucking resilient and...fucking yours. ***** wtf is the I just hope i see you one day and you’ll say to me oh oh********

H-Golden: You are the literal sun and I’m not ready. YOU’RE SUCH A GOOD PERSON (you were way too bright for me, i’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky). I’m scared to go through this alone, I need your comfort and your guidance (i can feel you take control of who i am and all i’ve ever known). But you’re scared to go through this with me bc you dont wanna get hurt and i’m too open so where tf does that leave us. ******this could be about coming out especially with the London AND NY secret shows where Harry added the lyric I’m hoping someday you’ll open*******

H-Adore You: You dont have to say you love me, you dont have to say nothing, you dont have to say you’re mine. I’d walk through fire for you. Just let me adore Lou. Like its the only thing I’ll ever do. read: Louis is a great person to just admire what he’s like. ALso I dont need anything back. I just dont want to hide my love for you anymore. I don’t need answers or promises. Just let me adore you. ********the music video is also basically a Louis appreciation post. He was the boy with the smile that the world took away from him. He found Harry lost and loved him and nurtured him and made him confident and allowed him to be who he wanted to be. But in doing so, Harry became big and unsatisfied and wanted to explore the world and was clearly interested in Hollywood and Rockstardom especially evident in his behavior 2014-2015. And Louis wasn’t about that life and didn’t want to hold him back. So he let him free. But they realized that they don’t work apart. Wherever they’re going, they’re going together, as the boy sails into the unknown following the fish. I see it as Harry’s version of “this one is a thank you for what you did for me” ************* I see it, I appreciate it, and I love you for it

H-Lights Up: ****fight with Louis. (What do you mean I’m sorry by the way) About coming out? About fame? (Step into the light, so bright sometimes) Either way, L is the guy driving the motorcycle in the video who makes H feel comfortable and safe until they get pulled over because SOMEONE wont let them love*******

H-Falling: What if i’m out, what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? Okay maybe I lied I do want you to claim me. Would me coming out of the closet make that hard for you? I CAN’T GO THROUGH AN IDENTITY CRISIS WITHOUT YOU LOU. I picked someone supportive and now I’m spoiled and I dont know how to be with myself. You want back in my life but what if I dont deserve it? (you said you cared and you missed me too...what i’m someone i dont want around). What if you’re better off without me? (i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again). I know youve been through so much shit because of me, things you’ve never even told me about and im afraid...that I wasn’t worth it. Am I being selfish? because either way, i want YOU (what if you’re someone i just want around). Does that make me a bad person? 

H-TBSL: ****Probably when they starting talking again but it was v casual and they didn’t really discuss their relationship yet*****. I MISS U BUT I WONT TELL U THAT and its nice to talk to u again i missed your voice but if u call me baby i will kill u bc that word has weight OKAY. Like i know you just call everyone babe and darling and sweetheart but baby is FOR ME and only for me when you wake up with me and cuddle me and if you think you have any right calling me baby without giving the luxury of being in a relationship with you then piss off because that shit hurts dude. (i know that you’re trying to be friends, know that you mean it...it’s hard for me to go home to be so lonely). ALso it’s not my fault i’m like this, you literally captured my heart when i was 16 like wtf do u expect (dont blame me for falling, i was just a little boy)

H-Sunflower Vol. 6: we were babies and i was so enamored by you and you’re so bright and beautiful and i want to watch you all day and make you smile and i want you to touch my hair and call me curly and i hope im not making you uncomfortable with my heart eyes but like how are you so perfect. I hope you think i’m cool, i’m really trying but like you’re SO FUNNY and charming and everyone loves you i hope im not embarassing myself. And now it’s like 8 years later and i think i can have you again and i want you so bad but i dont wanna seem too eager and im trying to have dignity and not text you first but like also i want nothing more than to talk to you. Do you think i’m cool now? did you like my new hairstyle? Do you think i’m funny on tour? I want everything i want to be domestic again and kiss in the kitchen and i want to cook for you and as;ldfa;sdhaf i want to buy you flowers everyday and shower ur cute face with kiss. boopx28 

H-Canyon Moon: Hell yea i got ma man back and i have a girlfriend named Jennifer ;) and we are domestic and even though I HATE being away from him for work (so hard to leave it) we have the 2 week rule yall then i can wrap my legs around him and after so so so long I’ll be h.o.m.e. Also did i tell you his eyes are so so blue like sky who i dont know her

H-TPWK: So we’re really doing this. We don’t need to have it all figured out. We can just be us. and happy. and dance. The world loves us babe. (Giving second chances, I don’t need all the answers and if we’re here long enough we’ll see it’s all for us and we’ll belong)

H-Fine Line: You’ve got my devotion but man I can hate you sometimes....We’ll be a fine line. Between what? love and hate? public and private? out and in the closet? each others’ and ourselves? Idk. But i’m going to swallow my pride (my hands at risk I fold) because no matter what, the worst possible outcome is not having you. And I never wanna go through that again. I know we have work to do on our relationship (spreading you open is the only way I know you). And there’s lot of unknown here (there’s things that we’ll never know) but what i do know is that i cant resist you (you sunshine you temptress) and i cant be without you ever again. I think it’ll be hard as hell. But when have we known love as anything but hard? And when have we known our love as anything but worth it? We’ll be a fine line baby. But i know, i knowww with every part of me that we’ll be alright. Because these past 10 years, we’ve been through A LOT. ANd it could have ruined us and made us cynical and cold and closed off. And I think at one point it did. But you know what we did? We fought it. We fought it together. Then we fought it individually. And we became BRAVE. And a brilliant man once said, “love is only for the brave”. 

[meraki-kintsukuroi]

a star is dying, but the universe won't let it.

(or alternatively: you're burning out like a dying star but these hands that have loved you even long before will never let you go, even if it means getting burnt along.)

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, light angst, soft fluff, references to depression and to the pandemic, and maybe probably a bit of child abuse it doesn't happen though its just mentioned, implied long-distance relationship, space, morbid, and colour metaphors, discussions about death and dying, shit writing and word vomit (bc im rusty as hell).

pairings : kindaichi yuutaro/reader (gn! reader & ambiguous relationship bc ytf not)

wc : 1, 755

a/n: dedicated to @haru-senji for being in the same situation as I and to all the other people who are as well, hang in there you guys, love you and please stay safe <3.

"Hey 'tarou are you up...?", Yuutarou hears you call out to him in the dark, breaking the silence in the night with your voice faint and small, almost lost against the loud howling wind of the dim sky.

He shifts, twisting his body to where you are, and in the dark--despite of it all--reaches for you when you don't pull or push him away and squeezes the hand you let him hold.

(Intimacy between skin has always been a line you jump in and out of and yuutaro wonders if there ever could be a day where he can hold you without you flinching or shrinking away, and without him saying that its okay despite the hurt in his heart or the deep open scars in yours.)

"Mm, yeah..?", he asks, voice a deep low rasp from the silence that had long been stretching between you, "What is it?"

There is a pregnant pause before you speak. It stretches long and wide much like the ones before and he can't help but be reminded of sea and the sky and he thinks that even in the vastness of it all with you besides him, your backs against the grass of some far away place, underneath all the darkness and twinkling nights, and far away from all uninvited eyes. He thinks that if you were to say anything here and now he would keep it lock in his chest until the day he died.

(Because happiness is limited in a world that is almost at its limit, only holding on to whatever thin silver lining there was to just not fall into the void of nothingness and cease to exist.)

"Do you know how a star is born?",

The ex-volleyball captain blinks once and then twice, and thinks of a grand king who he had served for three long years, of a boy turned king-enemy, to a friend that he had found once lost, of a gymnasium so big that it had to be the whole universe with how many stars, planets, and other celestial bodies there had been, but no matter how much he had thought of it, those astral objects that he had thought of was only at their prime and not at their beginning.

(Those people, those upperclassmen, those players, those rivals, his teammates, had been and always been stars--the moon, the sun, the planet--his universe.

He wonders how proud, those who have seen them at their very beginning feel? To see the rock with no fuel burn with utmost energy along with others who are just as bright as them.)

"No, I don't.", He says, a quiet thing and hears you hum, before feeling you twist and turn before finally settling again, not once letting his hand go as you did so.

(He does not comment on how closer you are to him now, afraid you'd pull away and distance yourself from him again.)

"How about when they die?", you ask him instead, and across the vast meadow he hears the crickets chirping this season's song "Do you know how they die?"

Yuutaro closes his eyes, and thinks of an explosion, of bright colours and a supernova exploding in the expanse of space, of the destruction that follows the grief that comes along with the loss of something as bright as a star.

He thinks of the king-prince-boy and how he had exploded into nothing but colours of red, black, and blue of the grand king who had burst out crying hues of green, grey, and teal, of a dark black empty gym with no bright light or palette in sight.

"They, uh, collapse i think...?" He says trailing off, trying to rack his left part of the brain of the lessons he hadn't slept in science class, "Yeah they do--And then they, they, uh... explode into supernovas? Yeah they explode into supernovas." He finishes unhappy but accepting all the same.

It's not like he was as blunt but smooth with his words just like his best-friend, not sweet like honey, or rough but straight to the point. He was still an awkward, tongue tied, and still fumbling idiot even after all this time. Even when he had hit a growth spurt or even after hitting a major milestone in his life, He was still the tall awkward boy people know who had just grown into an adults body to fit an adult's clothes.

You hum again, and he feels you inching closer, but not close enough to hold you the way he wants to--needs to--

(He pushes the greed--the fear of loosing you--letting go of you away. He can't, does not, will never be selfish, he can't allow it, not when he knows all too well what happens to you and the people around you, suffer through all too well.)

"Do you think we'll go out like that?", you ask him again, voice almost like a child afraid, "Like a supernova exploding in colours?"

He feels you shift again, and this time he thinks you're much closer to him than before and he thinks that you might be facing him this time too, he doesn't know it's too dark to see (but even so, even so, even so please come closer so I can hold you so--)

"Or do you think, we'll go out like a daisy crushed by the one who's supposed to take care of it?"

And something about that question, something about the way you say those words, makes his heart scream and mind twist in agony.

Because he thinks of the world, and how its marching to an unknown point and how much its scaring people. Thinks of you and your home that's only getting so much colder with each day passing. Thinks of himself and how he's just like a ghost wandering with a lover that's slowly collapsing--dying underneath the weight, of the pain of it all, that's too much for them to bear and not being able to do anything about it because-- "the only person who can save you is yourself, and you know that better than anyone else Yuutaro." His mother had once said.

And he knows, he knows, he knows, he goddamn knows, that things are getting worse for you--for him-and for everyone else, but he will fight God and his angels if it meant at least being able to carry some of the burden you had to carry all because the people who was suppose to do it but couldn't so you had to learn how to carry it all by yourself even after all this time.

Because Yuutaro with all his awkwardness and flaws had never been alone.

You however, have been painfully all by your lonesome.

And you meant to him that much to say the least.

"I don't know really." he murmurs truthfully, and squeezes your hand as an I'm sorry that i can't help you lift your pain that I was years too late to even try to do so and now you're hurting so much that you're almost at you're breaking point, and even if you don't know why or what, he still tries to.

Because he was just a ghost with no body or home wandering around this world, trying his darn best to find himself again for a lover that's slowly collapsing and loosing the brightness that they once were.

"Lots of people die in many ways you know?", He says not having one single clue about what's he saying but continues on because happiness is a fickle thing and is it selfish of him to hold your hand and keep you safe from the monsters that was supposed to love you for a bit much longer?

"We're not stars or flowers or anything,", He says with a finality he didn't know he had.

"We're people and we die when we die.", he goes on to say, and he thinks of an accident on the news, a tragedy in a script, and a genocide written on the history books, and thinks that for all the fire and hydrogen or whatever that makes up a star, planet, comet, or whatever. They were all still painfully human even on their last moments.

That they'd all bleed, cry, turn ugly, and at the end of it all die in more ways than one, because humanity is a fickle thing and they were no different.

That he was still human despite being a ghost of he once was, that you were still human even if you were a rotting corpse murdered by the monsters that were your own flesh and blood by the burdens and self-projections that they always had.

That the tyrant he had hated so much was just a boy underneath all the gore, grime, and blood, and that the grand king he had served underneath all the gold and silver and bronze was just human too.

They all were.

"But what if someone wants to go already and the people around them don't want them to...?" He hears you mutter softly, and he squeezes your hand again replying.

"Then don't.", He mutters tiredly just as much you are to the world, the monsters, and at yourself, "Live."

"Do you think we'll ever...", you trail off, and he knows from your tone that you must be struggling with what words to say so he squeezes your hand again because this is the only way you'll let him show his love for you other than his presence (because you're so, so, so scared and he is too, for you and for him as well.)

"Live again?"

Because he's a ghost of a star cluster once formed and you're a rotting corpse of a white dwarf floating in space with no way or direction to what home once was.

"I don't know really.." He says again, and crosses the gap between you deciding fuck it and presses his forehead against yours pushing on as he goes on, "But we'll cross the bridge when we get there all right?"

You don't pull away nor you push him away, instead you tense before relaxing again, and this time instead of him you're the one who squeezes his hand instead.

"Yeah we'll cross the bridge when we get there."

And in the dark--despite the dark, he thinks that maybe you're smiling in what it seems for a long while now, and he thinks that maybe, maybe he is too.

(And when morning comes maybe you both start trying to live again.)

[ultimatebethylficlist]

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82​ started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so. 

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

[damienthepious]

no lizard this tuesday. have some pre-canon rilla/damien smoochin and discussion of [checks notes] uh death!!! it’s fun!!! im stress’d

No Aching Necessary

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Tuesday, Established Relationship, (im POSTING this for LKT but i won't put it in the tag because arum ain't here.), (maybe if i ever pin down a follow up for this feat. the lizard? perhaps.), self-sacrificing idiot vibes, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Pre-Canon, Communication, discussions of uhhhh death

Summary: Sir Damien feels love like self-immolation. Rilla feels a little bit differently about it.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, because Sir Damien is nothing if not dramatic, and sir "self sacrifice is a knightly virtue!" seemed like the type to say this particular phrase on repeat. Basically just wanted to unpack all that I guess?? anywayyyy no thoughts brain scrampled egg. also this may have a part two someday? maybe? idk. there's potential.

~

Love, for Sir Damien, feels...

Eternal, and holy, and sacrificial. As in, it sounds of yet another litany in his mind, alongside the song of prayer to Saint Damien, alongside pleas for Tranquility, alongside fear and doubt and fortitude. I love you becomes too big for itself, it transforms, rather quickly, into-

"I would die for you."

Rilla stares at him the first time he says it, furrowing her brow, her dark eyes filled with concern. He kisses her frowning lips, gentle and aching, and when she kisses back her grip is possessive, firm, sturdy, and Damien melts against her as easy as wax beneath the flame.

The second time it bubbles out of him in helpless delight. She rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand almost too hard as she pulls him along to the next booth at the festival, distracting him with games and laughter until the throbbing of his heart eases into something more like joy.

The third time she only says I'll see you tomorrow, Damien, and glares hard at his back as he returns to the Citadel.

The fourth time he presses their bodies together and breathes it against her lips and-

She rolls him onto his back, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip and making him squeak and gasp, and when she pulls back she presses one hand to each of his shoulders, and the fury on her face is nearly thunderous.

"What's that thing you keep calling me, Damien?" she asks, inarguable and stern.

Damien blinks, panting as he stares up at her in confusion and desire and, suddenly, rising worry.

"Wh-what?"

"What is it that you call me? That romantic, poetic little name you have," she repeats, moving one hand from his shoulder to his neck, thumbing at his pulse.

"I…" Damien swallows, feeling her hand against the column of his throat. "M-my- my forever-flower?" he tries, his voice weak and wavering, and Rilla's eyes flash as the hand on his shoulder squeezes.

"If I'm yours," she says, her dark eyes utterly serious, her gaze inescapable, "your flower, then you're mine, Damien."

"Always," Damien breathes, and she blinks for half a heartbeat, apparently not expecting his easy (eager) acquiescence.

She shifts even closer, her voice lowering in both volume and tone. "You're mine," she says again. "And I intend to keep you, for as long as I am physically capable."

"A-ah." Damien's heart thuds, some delicious thrill at the idea of being kept. That she would- that she does want him, that she wants him enough to say things like that-

"Which means," she continues, her palm still warm against his throat as her other hand sinks into his hair, her nails tickling his scalp, "you need to stick around to be mine. I don't wanna hear you say anything like that to me. Understand?"

"But... but it's true, my love. I would die for-"

"You'd better not," she growls - growls, her eyes flashing, and a delicious shiver runs down Damien's spine - and her grip on his hair tightens, carefully angling his face up so that he looks her in the eye. "I want you, I love you, and I don't want anything to do with you dying."

"Rilla..." Damien swallows, looking down and away for a moment before he meets Rilla's eye again, hesitant. "You know, of course... I am a knight, my love, my flower. Each day, each mission is a risk. I take those risks willingly, knowing that I face potential fatality for the sake of my Saint and my Citadel. And, now... for you."

Rilla frowns hard, and then she kisses him harder, her hands firm and inarguable in his hair and on his neck for one long, searing moment before she pulls away again, and some of that righteousness on her face fades, her brow creased with distress.

"There's a difference between understanding the mortality rate of your career and you, apropos of nothing, claiming that you wanna throw your dead body at my feet, Damien. It's not romantic, it's not comforting, and I don't want to hear you say it. Why would you think that I would want to hear you say that? No one is asking you to die for me. I want you. I love you. And I can't fucking love you if you're dead, and especially not if you're dead for no goddamn reason."

"I never said-" Damien pants, his words slipping from his mind like trying to snatch a ribbon from the current of a river. "Not for no reason, it isn't as if-"

"Would you want me to say that?" she says, her voice almost- almost keening, beneath her frustration. "Do you want me to be eager to die for you?"

Damien lifts his hands, gripping Rilla's sides as if to keep her there.

"There is no reason whatsoever for you to even consider-"

"You can't know that for sure. Neither of us can. It isn't just your job that's dangerous Damien, it's the whole damn world. So, what if I do? What if I want to die for you, too? Does that make you feel good about our relationship?"

"I- well, I-"

"Does it make you feel good to think about me dying for you, or does it make you feel terrified?"

Terrified. Needless to say.

Needless, of course; Rilla's glare eases at the look on his face, at the way he freezes beneath her hands like startled prey.

"Exactly," she says, muted and gentle, and then she draws her hand through his hair, her other raising enough to cup his jaw. "I know... I know that being a knight is dangerous. I know because of how many times I've had to put one back together. Even just by how many times I've had to put you back together, even. I know- I know, intellectually, that losing you-"

She pauses, her breath doing something strange, her dark eyes too bright, suddenly.

"Rilla..."

She scowls as he wraps his arms around her middle. "I know it's a possibility. I know it's- likely, even," she says more fiercely. "But that doesn't mean I want to hear you say it, and it doesn't mean I want you to sound so goddamn eager to die. Got it?"

"I'm- I'm not- I don't-"

Eagerness does not come into it. Damien knows, though-

Damien knows what Rilla knows. As she has just quietly, sadly confirmed. The life of a knight is risk, inherent. More accurately, the life of a knight is sacrifice: his own safety in exchange for the protection of the citizens of the Citadel. The same exchange Sir Damien promised, in his heart, so many years ago to his Saint. It is likely, extremely likely, that Sir Damien will die in the service of his Saint and his Citadel.

And Rilla-

Rilla. Kneeling above him, curled down to place her forehead against his own, holding his face in her hands.

He would die for her. His heart aches for her, resounds like a bell in his chest, and he would die for her just as readily as he would die for his Saint, or his Queen. That is what she means to him, her equivalent place in his heart, what she does to him. He-

She bites his collarbone, sharp and sudden, and Damien yelps.

"Rilla!"

"You were thinking it again," she mutters, darkly, and then she kisses that same spot, feather light. "I just- I love you too much to hear you care so little about yourself." She lifts her face towards his, then, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Please. If you love me-"

"I do. My love for you burns like a wildfire, races like a waterfall, it fills me like-"

"Then you have to look out for yourself too, because I love you. And- and I can't always be there to watch your back and patch you back up. It's important to me that you're not- not trying to destroy yourself to prove a point about how much you-"

"Never," Damien breathes. He holds her a little tighter, then reaches to draw his hand through her hair. "No, that isn't... that isn't what I meant. I acknowledge the- the mortality rate, as you called it, but- but I hope, at least, to die nobly in my purpose. There would be no such end in reckless inattention to my safety. I swear."

Rilla frowns - nearly pouts, perhaps - and then she sighs as she bumps the tip of her nose into his cheek. "Alright. Okay. Thank you for... for listening. I know how- how much you feel, it's just- I can't do that. I can't hear you say that, especially not- not like you're saying it instead of... I just can't. Okay?"

"I understand," Damien says. "I will try to... to find more agreeable - less distressing, rather - ways in which to express my adoration."

Uncertain, whether or not he will be able to banish the thought from his mind, however. Occasionally it blinds him, when he looks at her, the breathlessness of his love, the need to protect and worship and bend himself to her merest desire-

But-

She desires, in no mere way, for him to be safe and whole, and holding her.

It still roils within him like a tempest, like waves and rocks and thunder, love like roaring and electricity.

But for her-

(Tranquility)

Sir Damien kisses her brow, kisses her neck, kisses her nose to make her wrinkle it and laugh.

Rilla loves him: miracle. Rilla loves him, like blankets and safety and hearth. Like sunshine, and laughing wind.

The soldier sings of death, as it walks ever by his side, but home- home will not abide such talk while the soldier rests inside.

He purses his lips. Unpolished, not without potential-

"I guess that's one way to think about it," Rilla murmurs, her cheeks a little dark, and Damien starts with the realization that he spoke aloud.

"Er- ah, well-"

"You really think of me as-" she pauses, bites her lip, then meets his eye again. "As... home?"

Damien exhales, overwhelmed by the strangely shy pleasure on Rilla's face, and then he tips his face up to capture her lips in another kiss.

"I do," he breathes, and then he kisses her again. "My forever-flower, my love... my home. Of course, my home."

"It- I think of you that way too," she whispers, and then she closes her eyes. "That's... why, I think. That's why it's hard for me to hear you say things like that. I know bad things happen, I know that homes- I know that things break. I just... don't like the reminder, I guess. I don't need it. I already learned that lesson too many times, y'know?"

Amaryllis of Exile looks down at him with a hesitant smile, her hand on his cheek scented vaguely of mint and smoke. Damien knows, yes. He knows what she has lost. He kisses her again, gentle and precious.

He loves her, and he knows that she loves him. So brave a love, in fact, that she will hold him and know she may lose him, and she will love him all the more fiercely in response.

[pigeonxp]

YGCMA songs and how they relate to c!Wilbur based off of yesterday’s lore (in my biased opinion)

This is so dumb and i literally don’t care. I can’t think about anything else other than doing this synopsis even tho like 28480329204 other people are going to do it. idc. 

(I listened to the songs earlier, and i’m also listening to them as i write the opinions. these are basically just my thoughts while listening tbh. im also not doing the full song, just some things i feel relate within each song)

- Jubilee Line

the lines at the beginning of the song, “hate to see you leaving / a fate worse than dying” could relate to how wilbur feels after tommy gets pulled back into the overworld. or, he could be referencing L’Manburg and how he hates to see his country leaving him (ouch). 

then we have the lines “your city gave me asthma / so thats why im fucking leaving / and your water gave me cancer / and the pavements hurt my feelings”. This could be in relation to L’Manburg as a whole. He put everything he had into L’Manburg and it only ended up hurting him in the end. yikes. 

now we have “shout at the wall / ‘cause the walls dont fucking love you” repeated. This could be in reference to when he said he was fucking kicking and screaming to get out of the train station. hes screaming and he doesnt care because it doesnt matter to him. it doesnt love him just like how the people of L’Manburg didnt love him. wilbur get therapy challenge.

so based on the lore from yesterday, we know that c!wilbur’s limbo was a train station (props to fanartists. i love you.), presumably the YCGMA album cover type deal. when he sings “Theres a reason / that London puts barriers on the tube line / theres a reason / that London puts barriers on the rails” repeated. if the train station looks like how they do on the album cover, there could be barriers where he is. maybe hes trying his best to just kill himself over again by jumping onto the tracks. just in an attempt to escape. jfc 

“theres a reason they fail”. he was still in the train station, wasnt he?

- Saline Solution

for this one, i feel like hes pretty far into the void and regretting his decision to have phil kill him. hes tired of being in a fucking train station for years on end. 

“i think this time im dying / im not melodramatic / im just pragmatic beyond any / reasoning for thinking ive got / fuckin rabies or something.” hes so fucking sick of being in this goddamn train station and he thinks hes dying. hes so pent up and sick of being there, maybe hes just in so much pain that he feels like hes dying. if hes been there for a while, hes probably bound to go crazy at some point, hence the “pragmatic beyond any reasoning.”

“I think ive lost my mind / blurring the fact and the fictions” this feels like he really does believe hes going crazy and is mixing up the things he really knows and the things his mind is creating for him. maybe this is when tommy first arrived and he cant tell if he real or not (thats a stretch but i figured id share it anyway.)

“I think ive made my choice / im a deceased playing victim / slip the face, slip the victory” he quite literally says that hes a deceased playing victim. hes literally saying hes dead HAHHAHAH anyway. maybe hes blaming himself again, because us c!wilbur apologists all know that hes very good at doing that.

“Sit secluded in hatred /.../” hes sitting in a fucking train station for god knows how long beating himself up over and over again and just hating himself. hes all alone. with himself. someone he fucking loathes.

this is honestly all i have for Saline Solution, but i will definitely add more later if i get different theories. 

- Since I Saw Vienna

This is my favorite song on the album and my comfort song so that could factor into this bit ahaha

im going to skip through this one a little bit and go to the line “The roads are my home, horizons my target / if i keep on moving, never lose sight of it / treating my memory of you like a fire, let it / burn out, don’t fight it, try to move on” this sounds like hes reminiscing on his home in L’Manburg and his presidency was something he relied on and he would fight to get it back, but now that hes dead and said that it should remain that way that he should just let it go. trying to move on from his symphony, forever unfinished. 

 “its been sixty weeks since i saw vienna / a bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face / ill pick up my hiking boots when i am ready / and ill put down my roots when im dead.” THESE LINES FUCK ME UP IN GENERAL BUT HOW THEY RELATE TO C!WILBUR RN IS JUST SUIBHYSBUSHDXNSKJDNHBD YK???? in the context that vienna is L’Manburg and he died, its saying that its been a long ass time since hes seen it and hes faking being okay about his death. he misses it but doesnt want to admit it. the picking up the hiking boots when hes ready is him moving on from his L’Manburg, and putting his roots down when hes dead is finally being okay with not living there/being an important part of it. he believed his death was the best for the people in L’Manburg and L’Manburg itself. it seems like hes still trying to convince himself. 

“Ill be gone then, for when you must be alone.” hes gone. hes dead. hes in the train station. he left the L’Manburgians alone and hes alone in his limbo. man. 

- Losing Face

this song is angry. hes so fucking angry. my thoughts are that this is about the following presidents after him. he feels like the L’Manburgians were happier without him and im pretty sure he believed that even when Schlatt was president. this is so evident in the lyric “Is he better than me?” Hes literally asking if the other presidents were better than he was. he doesnt believe he did everything he could to be the best president, even though we all know that he gave everything that he was into that country and then some. he broke himself for the L’Manburg but he doesnt believe hes enough. sheesh.

“Ive seen him / ive been him / ive felt the same way” even though he cant see the new presidents being president, he knows what its like. he knows that they might break under the pressure. hes been there. he knows how if feels. yikes. 

“Ive lost all meaning / ive lost my sense of hope” this feels like when he was nearing the end of L’Manburg when he blew it up, and that he feels like trying to win it back is pointless. he has no hope for it anymore, so why not give up? his mental state is already shit yk so i cant really blame him for feeling that way. 

“i dont care / i want you here / as long as youre happy, i dont care” this line. this fucking line. hes lost hope in being president, but he doesnt care. he just wants the L’Manburgians to be happy. that was his whole thought process while he was president. he didnt matter to himself, he just wanted them to be happy. he sacrificed his mental state for them. cries in wilbur apologist.

- Your Sister Was Right

this is my second favorite song on the album i think HAHAHAH

anyway

“I use everyone i ever meet / i cant find the perfect match / abuse those i love / while i ostracize the ones who love me / back.” wowie wow wow fucking ouchie. He feels like he uses his friends. this whole thing is a projection of his shit ass mental state rn fucking hell. he feels like hes abusive. thats what everyones been telling him. they tell him he was awful and a shit president and all that jazz even though hes been killing himself trying to be the best for them but its still not enough (pigeon projecting? more likely than you think)

“every time that i miss you / i feel the way you hurt / and i dont deserve you / you deserve the world / though it feels like we were built / from the same dirt.” man. hes dead lol. he misses the L’Manburgians. not only were they his supporters, but they were all his friends too. every time he misses his friends he feels their pain of when he first blew up L’Manburg. he feels like because he caused them all pain that they dont like him and that they never liked him and that he is undeserving of their friendship. he still wants to be friends with them. he still loves them. he still wants the best for them. he thinks theyre so much better than him even though they all created L’Manburg together. in reality they are all the same, but their actions impact each other and he feels that his actions make him worse than them or less than. fuckisonmdfnpbhife

“and i hate to say it / but your sister was right / dont trust english boys / with far too much free time” sister is dream mayhaps. fuckngeionsfjg that hurt sorry uhhh anyway yeah sister is dream?? he did say that wilbur would be a shit president and he believes that hes a shit president so he thinks they were all right about him being a shit president  fbhjebinfnejg. maybe sister is just everyone who didnt believe in wilbur. man....

“a fucking waste of time” do i even need to explain this one? he fr doesnt belive hes worth it anymore and that hes literally a waste of time. hjkfbhnfve

- La Jolla

this one feels pretty far into train station limbo to me as well. namely from “and im lonely / there i said it” this could either be him being lonely as president and feeling like he doesnt have anyone to talk to really because hes too busy trying to hold himself together for everyone. either that or hes lonely in the station and didnt want to admit it because this is what he wanted. he wanted to die. he wanted to be dead because he believed thats what everyone else wanted and he just wanted the best for them. 

“i could go away / i could pack my things and be gone before you wake” he could leave if they asked him to. he would do anything for them. 

“you know ive tried hard to love me too / it always seems to fall in, through” this line already physically pained me but now it hurts even more having to relate it to a character i love. we already know that his mental state was declining as his presidency continued, but this would confirm that hes just trying to love himself even though he can never seem to get it right. 

“my own personal sunset” this is just the ‘this is my sunrise’ line but different. my man misses the sun. fuck. 

- I’m Sorry Boris

this song is almost definitely from a long ass time in the limbo. 

“and im sorry / but, boris / im leaving / im not good for anyone here” boris represents L’Manburgians!! hes talking about how hes leaving the world by planning on killing himself. fuck. 

“we reached the end of a decade” mans been dead for a decade. sheesh. 

he then goes on to say that he cant believe hes leaving, he doesnt think he wants to leave them, but he thinks its whats best for them.

he talks about how they do all of these bullshit things before helping you and i know its in reference to london but for the sake of my sanity its about the presidency role and how it will fuck you up before bothering to help you not want to kill yourself.  

should i do a separate post about how i visualized it/about how i thought about the song in paragraph form like a lowkey explanation? idk how to explain it but in this one i wanted to just cover some of the lyrics of the songs and my thoughts on them. i think c!wilbur wrote these in the limbo after he died. i know this is also shit and Not Good, but i really just needed to get my thoughts out before it killed me. i also didnt reread this. its probably repetitive and shit yk. i do Not Care. id also love to hear thoughts on this if yall want to. if you made it this far i love you please hydrate and eat today and youre so sexy ahaha 

“and even though im finished / im not quite done with it” even though hes finishing his symphony by blowing it up, hes now realizing he wished he hadnt blown it up and that he hadnt killed himself. man. 

-

[uncertaininnit]

who wants to read an essay about my relationship with simping/an appreciation(/simping lol) post about Will+Eret and also seperately tommyinnit that was written at 4:22 am and then added to the queue because i love the queue system also fun fact i pronounced the word ‘queue’ as ‘cc-week’ for like an entire year and idk why anyways

lets just jump into it

lol

so. if somebody was to ask me who my favorite mcyt is, i would think about it for a moment and eventually answer with either Wilbur or Eret. and i think that is purely out of simping instinct or whatever the fuck. 

to start, Wilbur; the prettiest man, period. i do not take constructive criticism. he is literally gorgeous and i get so mad at him for putting himself down all the time because he doesnt deserve the shit, especially not from himself. he is 24 years old and has the lowest self-esteem out of anybody i can think of. i want to yell in his face all the time. i want to tell him simps are the same species as him, and they have REASONS to simp. if you keep seeing appreciation posts about yourself (which im sure he does) that means people APPRECIATE YOU and WANT YOU to feel APPRECIATED. 

anyway, back to simping. let’s start from the top. his goddamn hair. it is, it is, and i just took a deep breath, so pretty. maybe it isnt the hair itself, probably, but the way it is done. wavy dark brown hair all floofy in the front. and he is constantly messing with it, which is THE cutest thing. when he is excited, he moves a lot, and his hair moves with him and gets messed up and ahhhcvkvyr moving on.

his face? lets start with his eyes. they are so pretty. i think my opinion on eyes is probably weird, and allow me to explain why. i never ever notice somebodies eye color when talking to them. i just dont even look. so when i am actively paying attention to somebody’s eyes, they are that much more important to me. but idk, i kinda feel like his eyes are one of the biggest factors of his face? like, he looks really pretty whether he is smiling or not, because his face doesn’t ride on his smile.

sidetrack paragraph about george: i think george is that way. he is adorable, but he is only really adorable when he is smiling. if i look up ‘georgenotfound cute’ it will be entirely him smiling, and never any other facial expression because he genuinely looks like the fucking weirdest thing sometimes when making a serious face. back to will.

i dont pay attention to noses because who even cares dude but i’m sure his nose does a good job of supporting his looks as well so good job nose

his SMILE. he doesn’t need to smile, but dude, when he does, it’s like i always used to say (and still would say) in regards to eijiro kirishima. it’s like... sunbeams, like rays of light are in his mouth and escaping when he smiles.i wonder how he keeps a star in there. because his smile literally lights up my heart. and when he tilts his head(basically all the time luckily)? so goddamn pretty. pretty man. pretty. 

that brings us to his neck, which is- no, kidding, but i do want to talk about his vocal chords! firstly his speaking voice, which i guess as an american it hits different for me because of the accent. but- i dont think i can put it into words. but the way he puts thoughts into words-(lol) idk, his voice is just really sweet. and his SINGING VOICE, here we go.

so he sings, duh. and i- holy fuck. he just sounds good, you know? he is a good singer. i want to put my emotions simply this time. he sings well, and he sounds good. a pretty voice for a pretty man. i cant even try to elaborate.

basically the only other thing of my concern is his fucking yellow sweater? or jumper or whatever the fuck? and his beanie? on his body? damn. i am genuinely attached to that sweater. it just looks good, ok? it does. 

oh yeah, and he’s hella fucking tall. 6′5? are you kidding? you couldn’t have at least been short so we could make fun of you?

oh yeah and his laugh-

it is now 4:53 am and a bitch is tired but i have an entire fucking train of thoughts and they must be somewhere before they slip away

the next part- Eret. i adore Eret. so incredibly much. and let me start this by saying i’m going to consistantly call him a he, because he doesn’t care and so that makes it easier for me. ok? ok.

he is the opposite of Wilbur in this one regard, confidence. and self-esteem. eret loves himself. that attitude spreads. look, not only is he like the #1 bicon in the world as far as i’m concerned, but he also actively fucks gender roles any day. strawberry dress pog? strawberry dress pog.

but seriously, he rocked the strawberry dress. and the suit, though i missed that stream. he rocks his crown, his sunglasses, just anything he puts on. and don’t get me started on the BOOTS

(im started on the boots) so firstly the heel boots, the first ones he got. when i first saw clips, my only thought was something like ‘woah.’ or maybe ‘damn.’ at that point i didn’t know much about him, just that he looked STELLAR in those boots (and the betrayal and shit yknow) and the PLATFORMS DUDE

the platforms are the same but moar tall, which is incredible. oh and now back to strawberry dress- have you seen him twirl? the twirl? hello? have you seen it? you must. 

also i havent even talked about HIM yet. hove you seen that picture of him with a bird on his shoulder? he is facing the bird, i think looking at it, with a wide smile across his face. and it is so pretty. he has the prettiest smile. 

also today i was looking for flour at the store place and a clip of him was playing in my mind- he was doing like an announcer voice, like in every superhero movie trailer- and he was just coming up with something to say, and what he ened up saying was ‘in a world... where.... cookies.... are made of pringles’ and OMFG its making me laugh even now. like of absolutely anything, that was the example he made. just thinking about it is making me smile. 

speaking of, have you heard his voice? his normal voice is really really deep anyways, but he has crazy range- he can effortlessly(i originally wrote effortly and when i noticed i laughed because i am so fucking tired bfv9wuocl) go from like an elmo impression (and a good one) to a just REALLY low voice, lower than his normal low voice. 

AND HIS SINGING VOICE! he doesn’t like actually make music like wilbur but on that one stream where he did kareoke (how the fuck is it spelled) with fundy and his voice is SO LIKE its deep and its just pretty and i never want to hear normal sweater weather ever again, just him singing it.

i think this is where i’m done with eret- it is 5:18 now, and a BITCH IS TIRED but i need to finish this while i’m still feeling this wayy or i’ll never finish it, i know this from experience.

and now it’s tommy time

the og reason i decided to make this an actual post . but i had to explain the simping thing before i got into my thoughts about tommy. 

but let me start this with just saying yes, i love him. he is a big man and i want him to be happy. which is the topic for today’s discussion, AHEM. 

so tommyinnit, right? he is 16, which is why i do NOT simp.i dont care that im also a minor, i wouldn’t do anything to make him feel uncomfortable, ever. in any world. never. because look- i dont know how to put it, but tommy is SIXTEEN. still young and impressionable and all that junk. and he is a fairly fucking famous twitch streamer. he does that almost daily.

what i’m saying is i dont want him to get hurt. him, and tubbo too. they are a part of the world, part of the public, all the time. don’t you think that is stressful? do you guys remember his haircut stream? on the day of his haircut? and chat was making fun of him for it, and wilbur was making fun of him for it. that is how i express affection, with my real friends as well. playful bullying. but at some point while Will was teasing him, he says something along the lines of ‘yeah, the big man hasn’t been having too great a day’ or something like that, and dude, my heart dropped.

a. he had mentioned earlier that he didn’t want to stream the day of his haircut because hair is always weird that first day, but since he hadn’t streamed in a good bit he felt obliged to. i dont really.. idk, i dont really like that. i dont want him to have to put himself in uncomfortable situations because he feels like he needs to for us. i don’t think that is healthy.

and b. chat and wilbur were bullying him. good-naturedly, but still, when he mentioned he had been having a bad day, the chat turned around and instantly started yelling shit like ‘AHHHH SORRY BIG MAN YOUR HAIR IS FINE’ and when Wilbur kept teasing him (you fucking beautiful bully man fuck off) yelling stuff like ‘WILBUR QUIT WE ARE H U R T I N G HIM’ and ‘WILL STFU HES HAVING A BAD DAY’ so im glad we all want him to feel ok

but still, it cannot be healthy. when i first got into MCYT, i though tommy was fucking loud and annoying. and he is! he is. but that is a big part of why i like him so much. and everyone jokes about him being a child, because he is, but i choose to not say stuff like that in chat just because i want him to be happy. those jokes are fun, but i want him to be happy. and he is happier when not being called a child.

im not attacking you, do whatever the fuck you want. i dont know why i feel the need to protect him or whatever, if he read this he would probably think i was hella creepy. i just- listen, i just want him to be happy. i just want him to smile and laugh. i sound SO GODDAMN CREEPY but- as ive said- i just want him to be happy. 

is this literally just what having a comfort streamer is? am i not crazy? does everyone experience this? and can we talk about tommy’s playlist it’s literally so sweet and bubbly compared to his personality and i love that. and the song he always plays at the start of stream and always like buzzes along to? that moment in time is my very favorite.

it is 5:44-

[kim-seungmine]

dream the night away

title: dream the night away

characters: (fem) reader x hwang hyunjin of stray kids

genre: slice-of-life, romance, angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!hyunjin, hyunjin centric, inspired by 3racha’s cloud 9 but not really?

warnings: minor character death, sometimes heavy, slow burn (aka i wanted it to be but i wasn’t patient enough), i tried to proofread, i gave up trying to format text convo on tumblr, i think they kiss a lot.

word count: 11.6k i’m so sorry

synopsis: one night, hyunjin wonders how he long can stay floating on cloud 9 before he loses his balance and falls all the way down to the pits of hell. After that, nothing feels right.

disclaimer: this is idol!hyunjin so i just wanna say that this is not how hyunjin is in real life and im not trying to convince you that he feels the things in the story. some parts are inspired by the things they’ve said but everything that happens here is pure fiction... which actually goes without saying since this is a fanfic, but i just feel the need to say it. for my personal long ass author’s note, you can read it below.

Hyunjin is met with darkness when he steps into the dorm. It used to be more packed, it used to be messier, and it used to be really loud. Now he only shares the dorm with the 00z who are surprisingly quiet if you think about it. Seungmin sleeps early, Felix has his headphones stuck to his ears and plays games until the sun rises, and Jisung is snugged somewhere watching movies. On busier days, Seungmin and Felix are at the company for lessons and Jisung spends the night at the studio with Chan and Changbin. Hyunjin, meanwhile, usually has some photoshoots.

However, tonight feels unnaturally quiet, especially since Hyunjin has just won his first Bonsang as a solo artist. He switches the lights on, and his friends are soundlessly huddled together by the fridge, Jisung holding a small cake.

“Surprise!” Seungmin exclaims rather flatly as Hyunjin drops to the floor out of shock, shouting profanities. Felix proceeds to grab some candles from the kitchen counter and lights them up. “Come on, blow the candles."

Hyunjin lets out an amused sigh, rising to his feet before blowing all the candles out. “Please tell me these aren’t those candles that stay lit n—what the hell.”

He continues blowing, his friends giggling while Seungmin groans. “Why did you have to curse? I was about to post that on Instagram Story!”

“Why are we doing this anyways? We’re not 18 anymore,” Hyunjin protests half-heartedly. He can’t really remember the last time they gave each other a proper surprise. It feels like ages ago. Jisung scoffs, searching for a knife inside one of the kitchen drawers. Slicing the cake, he retorts, “Your dramatic ass loves surprises, stop denying it.”

“Anyone has anything to do tonight? The hyungs want to come over,” Felix informs while typing on his phone. Hyunjin’s vibrates after a few seconds; everyone on the Stray Kids group chat must be congratulating him.

Seungmin opens the chat, frowning. “Where’s Jeongin?”

“He hasn’t been replying since hours ago. That brat probably fell asleep. Just ask his bro if he’s home,” Hyunjin suggests, about to reply to Chan’s message when another message pops up.

y/n: sorry i couldnt watch the show

y/n: but i saw the news! congratulations!!

y/n: so proud of you, as always!

Hyunjin’s eyes light up at your messages. It’s been months since he saw you; he’s been busy with his solo debut and you’ve been busy with school. When both of you were children, you often pictured how life would be. Hyunjin would be a famous soccer player for Manchester United and the captain of South Korea national team. You would be studying to become a doctor.

He finds it funny that you’re doing the exact same thing while he’s doing something he never even imagined before. Hyunjin is always amazed at how well you planned your whole life and executed every single plan, albeit not always instantly.

After all these years, though, he dares to say that both of you turned out okay. Amazing, even.

“Order whatever you want. I’m eating outside but I’ll be back soon,” Hyunjin tells his friends, bombarding you with messages before you turn your phone off, the thing you always do when you’re about to cram.

Seungmin arches an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Yeah. I asked whether she wants to eat gopchang with me.”

“You should really be careful.”

“Everyone knows we’re best friends. No one will make a weird rumor or anything.”

Jisung clicks his tongue. “Well, do you?”

Whenever someone talks about you, it always leads to this very conversation. Hyunjin decides to let Jisung’s question (sarcasm) hang in the air, but he knows the answer. Yes, he knows you and him are just best friends. Does he like it that way?

Hyunjin knows the answer to that too. He only pretends that he doesn’t.

You’re already slurping your soup when Hyunjin says hi to the restaurant owners, Mr and Mrs. Jang. “Oh Hyunjinnie, I just watched you on TV. You won something, right?” he asks. His wife ushers him to sit down, putting extra servings of kimchi on the table.

“Why didn’t I get extra kimchi?” You pout, shooting a jealous glare at Hyunjin who’s busy explaining what a Bonsang is to the owners.

“You did a good job, then,” Mrs. Jang coos. “You don’t need to pay today. It’s on us!”

You quickly put your spoon down. “What about me? I barely sleep thesedays, and I’m not as rich as Hyunjin!”

“Aigoo, you started eating before your friend came then demand for free food. You’re lucky we love you as much as we love Hyunjin.”

The couple laugh at your reaction, jokingly scolding you for being whinier than Hyunjin when it used to be the other way around. He smiles, remembering all the times he forced you to eat his eggplants for him and the times when he begged you to help him study because he needed to beat all of his friends.

“Eat,” you scowl. “You only have half an hour to brag. I have a night shift.”

Out of the times you’re being petty towards him, you were only seriously petty once: when he beat your English score in ninth grade although you were the one teaching him. He had to bribe you with a week’s worth of Haribo jellies before you stopped ignoring him.

Hyunjin giggles. “When’s your exam? Tomorrow?”

“Next week,” you whine. “But I have so many things to do! And I think someone stole my notes, I can’t seem to find them anywhere. Do you even understand half the pain I’m going through right now? All I need is one solid hour of sleep.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You widen your eyes, eyeing Hyunjin from head to toe. “Sometimes I forget you’re Stray Kids’ Hyunjin.”

He pretends to stab himself on the chest. “That h-hurts,” he fake-groans. “Then who do you think I am?”

“My neighbor,” you answer. “—who doesn’t even live at home anymore.”

“To be fair, you’re practically holed in hospital now.”

“Yeah but I go home every two weeks? You go home twice a year.”

“Excuse me?! I went home on your birthday… in the middle of a tour! I could’ve been sleeping or practicing, but I came home!”

He always “argues” with you until both of you are out of breath, clutching your chests because it somehow feels hilarious. You drink the last few drops of the soup right from your bowl, setting it back on the table and empty your glass in one go.

“I don’t have enough energy for this,” you sigh dreamily, prepping your head on your arm. “Tell me about everything. Your first Bonsang.”

Hyunjin can still hear his fans’ voices chanting his name and cheering for him as he delivered his speech while sobbing (this is what he hates from solo promotions, nobody else is there to stop him from crying or taking over the mic from him so he could calm himself down). He remembers every single word he said and the proud faces of his fellow artists. The thrill, the triumph, the satisfaction, the love… it’s making him emotional all over again.

He grabs a tissue to blow his nose. “I was surprised when the company said that I was invited. Our group hasn’t made a comeback this year, and although my song did chart quite well, I never expected they would even invite me.”

“They gave me a 5-minute stage! I was so happy, I sent you my rehearsal videos, right?”

You nod, imitating one of the moves in his dance break.

“Everything was even more amazing on stage, with Stays watching me. I think I was possessed during the performance… I was goddamn nervous though.”

“Yeah, I watched it on the way here. You kept licking your lip, I don’t care if your fans think that’s hot. To me you’re just a nervous mess…”

Hyunjin has started to pout when you add, “… who did a very great job nevertheless! It’s just that I’ve known you so long. You can’t hide anything from me.”

He notices how you’re holding your breath, waiting for him to respond. After years, Hyunjin thought he would take negative comments much less seriously, but apparently it didn’t become easier. It became harder, so hard that he had to take a 3-month hiatus last year.

With you, everything is different. You can tell him that he sucks big time and he’ll take it seriously, but he never gets offended. There are a lot of times when people treat him like he’s made of glass (or a snowflake, Seungmin once said), but you treat him the way you’ve always treated him and he loves it. None of his other friends understands, but your honesty is priceless. It’s what keeps him going; he knows you’ll never cherish him less no matter what you say about the way he dances and raps, or the way he looks and behaves. And he’s sure that his honesty also means the world to you. You are each other’s toughest critic, but it will never change anything.

“Hyunjin.” You place your hand over his, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out of my mouth.”

He chuckles, flipping his palm to squeeze your hand. “You idiot. You just stated the facts.”

You squeeze his hand back before pulling away. “I’m looking at Hwang Hyunjin of Stray Kids who sold over 100.000 copies of his first solo album, who won Bonsang for the first time, who gets worshiped by everyone he locks eyes with—except for me of course. I’m a very proud friend.”

“Stop it.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but unable to hide his smile once he sees you grinning like a happy child. “How much time do we have left?”

You glance at your phone, sighing when a reminder for you to study pops up. “5 minutes. I have to go back to the hospital soon.”

“Can you even study during your shift?”

“I have to,” you mumble. “Anyways, thanks for dragging me out. I did miss you after all.”

“I missed you too,” Hyunjin says, probably too quick for his own good but he doesn’t regret it.

“I’ll be going now.” You stretch your limbs, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Any last words before I go to war?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“Oh, right.”

Chan is the only one awake by the time Hyunjin gets back home. He huffs in regret, knowing that the hyungs decided to stay over to celebrate his Bonsang win. The leader greets him with a bear hug, carefully avoiding Felix and Minho who are fast asleep on the floor. “We’re so happy for you!” he whisper-yells. “How was Y/N?”

Hyunjin returns his hug with an even tighter one. “Thanks hyung. You composed the song after all! And sorry I came back too late.”

Chan shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. At some point we forgot why we were here and just started playing mafia.”

“Y/N is fine, anyways, just tired.”

“She’s always tired, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. It turns out that medical students are probably more tired than us.”

Hyunjin leads Chan to his bedroom. Each of the 00z has their own bedroom now. It’s much more convenient and they can arrange their stuff however they want to (they avoid entering Jisung’s room as much as possible), but Hyunjin misses the mess at times. The old dorm was cramped, either too hot or too cold, and way too noisy, but it was home for quite a long time.

Chan seems to be having the same thought. “We miss you kiddos sometimes,” he laughs. “But we fixed that sliding door. It closes properly now.”

“As long as Changbin hyung keeps opening it with too much force it will be broken again in no time. Trust me.”

Both of them are lying on Hyunjin’s king size bed, staring at the sideboard table he dedicates for his music show—and now, music award—trophies. “The kids don’t really say it but they’re all so proud of you. I’m proud of you. I raised you well, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“Kinda?!”

“I’m joking.” Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “You raised all of us. We raised Jeongin. And we raised each other.”

“3racha are almost finished choosing the final songs, you have 2 weeks to relax then we’ll start production right away. Our next tour won’t start until May, so we have plenty of time to prepare everything.”

“Ohhhhh I can feel my bones breaking already. We’re getting old,” Hyunjin whines.

Chan pats his thighs, cracking his knuckles before jumping out of bed. “You’re getting old,” he teases.

“I’m glad, though. Everything finally works out the way we wanted to. I guess we can say that we’re doing well now, right?”

Chan doesn’t wait for Hyunjin to answer and leaves the room right away. The latter ponders the rhetorical question for a while, recalling the goals they have reached for the past few years. Entering the Melon chart (and staying on Top 20 for a week), having one of the most successful world tour, winning prestigious awards at prestigious music awards, 3racha getting acknowledged as the industry’s top composers, 00z winning music shows for their unit debut last year, Jeongin getting drama roles, and last but not least, Hyunjin’s successful solo debut.

Feeling nostalgic, he scrolls through his phone, looking at old photos and silly videos. Looking at the lyrics he wrote on his note app. Then he goes through @realstraykids’ posts on Instagram, from when Jeongin still had braces until tonight. The latest selcas on his own official account are still getting likes, the fans showering him with praises.

Hyunjin has ticked off everything from his wish list. He has reached every goal he set a few years ago. They are doing well. He’s doing well.

He looks at his surroundings, immersing himself in the space and peace of his room that he once craved desperately. He’s supposed to be at peace now, but his mind won’t stop buzzing, asking himself what to do next.

For the very first time, Hyunjin realizes that he’s now floating on Cloud 9. Everything is perfect, he’s living his dream life. But at the back of his head, he can hear the clock ticking, ready to push him over the edge the moment he loses his balance, watching him fall all the way to the pits of hell.

Everything is perfect, but why does his heart feel so empty?

Hyunjin’s brows furrow as he tries to catch some comments the fans are posting. When he was a rookie he couldn’t get used to how fast the comments come in, and it’s something that doesn’t quite change. Probably he got used to it at some point, but they kept gaining fans that the comment section is always extremely active.

“Hyunjin oppa,” he pronounces the words slowly. ”Spo-spoiler please!”

He lifts his head to give the viewers a secretive smile. “Nope.” He wiggles his forefinger. “You have to wait for the teasers!”

“Ohhh the comments! You guys are so excited I can’t keep up!”

More comments flood in, and Hyunjin has to press his phone screen in order to read the one comment he’s been trying to read. “Recommend me a song, please!”

“Uhhh—” He takes some time to think of the songs he’s been listening to, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table while the comments keep coming in, but this time he spots words that stab him right on his gut. With trembling hands, he lifts his phone, clicking the report button as subtle as possible. His vision grows blurry as he reports every single comment that has the word “fuck you”, “die” or “talentless” in it.

The pause has become too long and too awkward, so he stops himself from reporting more and stares at the lens. “Ah, song recommendation!” he exclaims. “I have quite a lot but thesedays I’ve been listening to 00z songs a lot. We had so much fun promoting together.”

Hyunjin feels his other phone vibrating in his pocket, probably his mother checking in. It gives him a boost of energy, and he tells his fans he’ll stay with them for 10 more minutes. “When we’re just talking like this, I’m always reminded that we’ve come so far,” Hyunjin says, a smile on his face. “It feels good to know that all of you are making time for us, for me, after your busy day. And no, I’m not sleepy. Don’t worry, everyone!”

He reads some more comments, mostly cheesy pickup lines to cheer himself up as his brain is still trying to get all the hurtful words out of his system. “Ah, I think I have to go now,” Hyunjin announces lowly. “I have to go back to practice, if not Chan hyung will barge in and drag me back to the practice room.”

“What? You want me to get scolded by Chan hyung? Why are you so mean?!”

Hyunjin ends up staying for 20 more minutes before finally ending the broadcast. Conversation with his fans is something he values a lot; it gives him strength and makes him laugh. It makes him feel loved and he wants his fans to feel the same.

But it’s equally tiring. He has to brace himself for some less-than-nice comments, sometimes they are way too severe for him to handle that the company sues all the commenters. You’ve told him over and over again that those people aren’t his fans.

Everything could’ve been worse. Hyunjin still considers himself very lucky that he has much more fans than haters. Still, he often imagines how it will feel if he has no hater at all, since he does have some friends who seem to only hear pretty words.

Hyunjin stays inside the room for a few more minutes, replying to Seungmin’s messages and assures him that he’ll be back soon. He idly plays one of their songs he hasn’t heard for years, the song that was always included in their setlist before being replaced by some other songs. Hyunjin initially thought he wouldn’t need that song anymore, but tonight, he needs it. Maybe he needs it more now than before.

After making a mental note to ask the other boys to add the song back to the concert’s setlist, Hyunjin leaves, cursing himself for taking too much time to regain his composure.

Should I stop or not? Should I give up or not?

“Hwang Hyunjin, stop coming into my room without my permission! You literally trespassed into someone else’s property!”

Hyunjin groans into his pillow, instantly regretting his decision to pick up your call at midnight. “I didn’t!”

“Don’t lie to me. You took Gureum with you!”

He takes a quick glance at the rabbit plushie he placed on top of his pillow. Last night, he did go home because Kkami (everyone calls him old man now) got a little sick. “I miiiiight have made a quick detour next door when I was about to leave.”

“You’re pathetic. You got soooooo many plushies and toys and cute headbands from fansigns and you stole my Gureum.”

“Stop guilt tripping me! I missed Gureum, okay? Why didn’t you take him to your dorm?”

Hyunjin senses your hesitation as you clear your throat. “Well, sometimes seeing Gureum only makes me miss everyone more, so I just left him at home.”

Now he feels guilty. Your parents are currently staying overseas to take care of your sick little sister. He pictures you coming to an empty home every two weeks, exhausted and not having anyone to welcome you.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Our superstar isn’t busy?”

“I am, but I’m willing to sacrifice my precious time for my best friend.”

You scoff over the phone, but telling him to hurry up before ending the call. Hyunjin packs his clothes and toiletries, along with Gureum—his birthday present for your 11th birthday. You almost never sleep without it, yet the plushie still looks brand new.

Unable to hide his smitten smile, Hyunjin grabs his keys.

The apartment complex where Hyunjin lives has changed a lot over the years. The soccer field he used to play at is now a playground. The little bookstore you loved so much is now a bakery. Now there’s a big shopping mall right across the building. After saving up for a while, Hyunjin asked his parents whether they wanted to move to a bigger place. He kind of hoped that they wouldn’t want it because he wanted to stay close to you (although coming home is a real challenge for him). Luckily, his parents said no.

He enters your door password leisurely, recalling the time when your parents told him to take care of you.

So far, you’ve been the one taking care of him.

Hyunjin heads straight to your bedroom, opening the door and sees you curling on your bed. The mattress he sleeps on whenever he stays over is already laid on the floor.

“Gureum!” you yell when he throws the squishy rabbit to you. Hyunjin drops his bag and settles himself on the mattress, staring up at you.

“How’s your sis?”

You scoot towards the end of the bed, showing him a photo on your phone. Your sister is smiling; she looks much better than before, but still very pale and thin. “I haven’t called her,” Hyunjin admits. “But she got the albums I sent to her. Sent the ones signed by the others too. That kid loves Jisung, do you know that?”

“I got her into Jisung.”

He sits up, looking almost offended. “Your bias is Han Jisung?”

“This world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.” You flash him a cheeky grin. “I wanted to ask you to let me go to the backstage again last tour, but I restrained myself. As your kind best friend, I shouldn’t abuse my privilege.”

“You know that he never cleans his room, right?”

You hum, “Nobody’s perfect, Jinnie.”

“Oh come on!” Hyunjin protests. “If it’s Jeongin I understand although he also never cleans his room. But Jisung? And you’re calling yourself my best friend!”

“He’s funny!” you argue. ”He has a nice voice—it’s really sexy when he raps, he dances well, he wrote all my favorite Stray Kids songs, and he actually had the balls to fight you. A real champ.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, making a gesture to snatch Gureum away from you. “And at the end of the day, you love him,” you add. “He makes you laugh too.”

Well, it’s a fact he can’t refute. You ask, “Do you think I should hit on him or something? Will people call me out? Does he have someone?”

“We are not having this conversation Y/N. I don’t care if both of you are my best friends, you’re not dating Han Jisung. What happened to that ‘hot senior’ Jung Jaehyun? The last time we called, you were so in love with him.”

The mention of Jaehyun’s name causes you to slump into your bed, covering yourself with your thick blanket. “I sort of blew it up,” you mumble. “He asked me on a real date and I said no.”

You seem to hit realization that’s way too late, and now you’re hollering, “I said no to Jung Jaehyun! Oh my God Hyunjin… I’m such an idiot!”

Hyunjin can’t contain his giggles. Relief washes over him; you and Jaehyun seemed rather serious and while he wished you well, the thought of you being with someone else always pains him. He knows he’s not allowed to feel that way just because you’re best friends.

Most of the times, he can’t help it.

“He’s a real gentleman and he said he was into me. ME. Everyone would throw themselves at him but he came up to me and I flat out rejected him. What the hell is wrong with me?!”

You’re rolling on your bed, whining and kicking at the air. “I tried not to think about it but… it was just a date? Even if I didn’t end up dating him at least I could tell my grandchildren that I went on a date with Jung Jaehyun!”

“Is he really that great?” Hyunjin asks, out of curiosity but laced with jealousy he hopes you can’t see. His words sound distant to his own ears, triggering his fear of losing you.

“Yeah, I guess?”

You nudge his legs when he doesn’t respond. “How about you? Everything’s fine? You don’t look happy thesedays.”

Hyunjin never lies to you. You have a full access to his heart; he lets you in on his happiest days when life feels like the shiniest summer. He also lets you in even after the messiest thunderstorm when he feels that everything is fucked up. This time, he wants to lock you out. There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to fix.

His heart is empty—he is empty, and he wants to protect you from the bleakness of it.

“I’m fine, just been arguing with Felix and Minho hyung over the song we’ll perform. It feels too monotone for me, but they think it’s perfect,” he explains, not completely lying. “I don’t know if I’m being selfish but somehow I just can’t let it go.”

“Have you tried explaining to them? Not how you feel, but how the song is. You can always go technical, you don’t need to worry just because Minho is more experienced.”

Hyunjin sighs. “I did, but probably it’s just me.”

“Do you wanna talk things out?” You yawn, squishing Gureum into your chest. “Or do you want to just sleep?”

He glances at the clock. “We both need sleep. It’s almost 3A.M.”

“Alright. Good night—I mean good morning!”

Hyunjin stretches his neck to look at you, your eyes are already closed. He relaxes his body and tries to sleep, but his jumbled mind keeps him awake. Hyunjin waits until you’re fast asleep before scooting closer, softly taking your hand in his before closing his eyes once again. He did it a lot when he was younger, holding your hand until he fell asleep. You nagged at him because it woke you up, but you never told him to stop doing it.

Tonight is no different.

“Hyunjin?”

“Sorry.”

You turn to him, “It’s okay.”

He mumbles a thank you, ready to go to sleep when you move to the mattress. Hyunjin gulps at the close proximity, it’s been too long since you slept on the same bed as him.

“Hyunjin, I missed you.”

Hyunjin heard a theory somewhere: 3.A.M-conversations are the most honest. It’s a little over 3A.M now, and he doesn’t how much of that theory is true, but your words fuel something deep within him. The feeling so strong he has to tear his gaze away from you. Hyunjin slowly pulls you into his arms, patting your back in rhythm with the clock.

He grazes his lips on your shoulder, mouthing his reply quietly, “I missed you too.”

You nod against his chest, pulling your hand out of his grasp so you could circle your arms around his torso.

Hyunjin falls asleep almost immediately, succumbing to the warmth and comfort you radiate.

He’s going to be alright.

“Do you think I’ll ever debut?”

Hyunjin takes off his SOPA jacket, plopping onto the bed while you’re munching on a pack of jelly. “Let me sleep for 10 minutes. I have to go to the company after this.”

You slap his thigh. “Why do you always sleep in my room? If I got a dollar everytime you sabotage my bed I’d be really rich now. Get out, you have practice!”

He reaches for your knee, using it as a pillow. Hyunjin feels you soften as you card your hand through his hair. “Is it hard? Are those mean hyungs still bothering you?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Changbin hyung told those motherfuckers to mind their own business.”

“Stop cursing!” you hiss. “It’s not cool, and what if you accidentally curse on broadcast later? You have so much to learn…”

Hyunjin opens his eyes and smiles when he meets your gaze. “Do you think I’ll ever debut?” he repeats his question.

“Have you seen yourself dancing? You’re better than most of the trainees I saw at the open showcase. Plus you have so many girls screaming your name. No offense, but that is definitely a plus point.”

You give his head a little smack when you notice doubt flashing through his orbs. “I believe in you, Hyunjin. Don’t doubt yourself,” you tell him softly. “And if you need someone to give those ‘motherfuckers’ a lesson, just call me. I know some people who can shut them up.”

He lets out an obnoxious gasp. “Are you a gangster now?! Your parents are going to be so disappointed in you. Looks like you have to say goodbye to medical school now…”

You sigh, now it’s your turn to look at Hyunjin with doubt in your eyes. “I’ll get in, right? What if I flunk my results later?”

“This is why I hate smart people,” he bemoans. “You rank first in the whole school, stop saying nonsense.”

Both of you a few more minutes lying in silence. When he waves you goodbye, Hyunjin feels like he can soar.

He’s safe with you, and you’re safe with him.

“Hwang Hyunjin, get off me!”

Hyunjin wakes up to you trying to untangle your legs from his. He catches your flailing legs, removing his before examining your face. “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you running late?” you pester, pointing at the clock.

“Lunch?” he asks.

This is supposed to be awkward. Hyunjin can’t recall what happened a few hours ago before blushing—he’s never been that intimate with you before. You two have had a fair share of platonic cuddle sessions, but last night felt different.

“Not yet,” you mutter. “I just woke up. Oh God my back hurts.”

He wants to know whether you feel the same, but you’ve made your way to the bathroom before he could ask anything. “What do you want to eat?” you yell, almost incoherently due to the toothpaste in your mouth.

“You’re not going to shower?” Hyunjin playfully shrieks.

“It’s my day off!”

“My mom must’ve cooked something. Gimme 10 minutes.”

Although he’s done this at least a hundred times, it’s still hard for Hyunjin to leave home. Seeing his he’s never able to stop his heart getting heavier at the sight of bidding his family goodbye until God knows when.

“Please come home more Y/N,” his mother asks you, raising her eyebrow. “Hyunjin seems to randomly pop up whenever you’re here, so please, come home more.”

You smack his back loudly, causing him to let out a choked groan. “I’ll teach him a lesson, don’t worry.”

Hyunjin gives his mother a sheepish smile, knowing all too well what she meant. He pulls you out before she starts grilling him for information, yelling one last goodbye before closing the door. You search for something inside your bag, stopping him from pressing the elevator button.

“You left something?”

“My dorm key,” you answer, walking back to your own unit. “You should just go,” you say. “It’s in the middle of the day anyways, we shouldn’t be seen together.”

Hyunjin follows you inside, watching you rummage through one of the buffet drawers. He notices how your shoulders are slumped and the way your eyebrows furrow. As his mind wanders to last night once again, you jab at his stomach lightly. “Hey, you’re spacing out.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin can say. He takes a good look of you, something he always does before he parts ways with you. Before he can stop himself, Hyunjin has wrapped his arms around you, letting you hear his erratic heartbeat. He still misses you, even after spending the whole night together.

Eventually, you pull away. “I’ll go first.” You ruffle his head. “See you when I see you?”

“See you soon,” he corrects you.

You smile, taking your bag from the floor and when he blinks, you’re gone.

Hyunjin still misses you now, even when you were just in his embrace a few minutes ago, burying your head into the crook of his neck. The empty space in his heart seems to expand whenever he thinks about you.

It hurts.

Minho ends the dance practice and everyone collapses on the floor the moment the music stops playing. Hyunjin immediately restarts the discussion they had before practice started.

“We used to sing both Grow Up and You Can Stay, why do we have to choose one now?” he demands while all of them are sprawled on the floor. “Our fans miss it too, I think it’s the perfect chance to bring it back.”

Chan takes a deep breath, nodding at Hyunjin. “I can’t see why not,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t even remember why we abandoned it in the first place.”

Hyunjin does, and he knows Chan does too. It was simple, really. The song that once gave them comfort turned into this big monster made out of their worst nightmares. Each member had cried to the song during some of their concerts, and now performing it in front of everyone always brings back the painful memories.

“Yeah, we should sing it again,” Felix adds, kicking Jisung’s leg so the latter would sit up and voice out his opinion. “Well.” Jisung scratches the back of his head, “I’m cool with it.”

The rest of the group mumbles similar answers and Chan claps, giving Hyunjin a thumbs up. “Hyunjinnie is all grown up,” he praises before gathering his things and leaves. Hyunjin snorts at the leader’s compliment, but his sparkly eyes can’t fool anyone.

He pulls out his phone to relay the happy news to you, but the sparks in his eyes quickly fade when his messages from hours ago are still unread.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” he asks.

Seungmin checks his phone. “5A.M.”

Hyunjin wipes his sweat, chugging his water. Their American tour starts in a few days, and while he’s ecstatic because they’ll be performing at LA Staples Center for the first time, he also feels uneasy.

He takes out his phone, opening his contacts and stops when he sees your name. He stares at the number he remembers by heart.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks. “If you’re worried about District 9’s formation change, don’t. You nailed it today.”

“District 9…” Hyunjin trails off. “We’re getting too old for District 9.”

Jeongin grunts in agreement. “Whenever we finish my head always spins for like a minute. It’s been too long.”

“Yah,” Seungmin scolds him. “You need to get it checked. What if there’s something wrong with your head?”

The youngest does an exaggerated head banging, earning a kick from the puppy-like boy. Hyunjin chuckles at the two’s antics; some things never really change, and he’s grateful that this is one of those things.

Seungmin throws a playful punch at Jeongin’s stomach one last time before focusing his gaze back on Hyunjin. “Seriously though, did something happen?”

Hyunjin’s brain has a lot of template answers to questions like this, but the cliché words on tip of his tongue feel burning. His friends wait patiently as he fumbles for words, blinking his tears away when he fails to find the right words.

“I don’t even know if there’s anything,” he finally concludes. “It’s just—ever since Bonsang, it’s been hard. It’s been… nothing. Empty.”

Seungmin and Jeongin only nod, as if they understand how he feels. They probably do, Hyunjin thinks. Maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe all of his members have experienced it at some point, although at different times. Hyunjin feels slightly relieved at the thought. I’m not insane.

When he was a trainee, he thought everything would be fine once he debuted. It was, to some extent. But he was young and naïve, and when things beyond his control happened, Hyunjin barely managed to stay afloat. People told him how to handle stress, how to voice out his concerns, how to manage his body, mind and soul. He knew how to survive, theoretically.

No one actually taught him nor the other boys, and for an 18 year-old boy, feelings got intense quickly. After some trials and errors, everyone figured that it was best not to bottle up their feelings. Once again, it sounded easy in theory. In reality, with so many things happening at once, most of them eventually created a space in their own heads to seal everything in. They endured.

Jeongin looks at him with hesitation, rubbing his hands together. “It happens,” he reassures him. “It’s okay to worry about it, hyung. But worry about it with me, please!” Jeongin raises his tone. “You can barge into my room anytime. You can annoy the hell out of me, but stop suffering alone, will you?!”

Seungmin can’t miss the chance to tease the maknae. “Says the one who cried alone all night long in the bathtub after losing his voice.”

“If I hadn’t found you, you would’ve passed out,” Hyunjin adds. Jeongin lifts his hands in defeat. “Whatever. But I meant what I said.”

“Our Jeongin is so dependable,” Hyunjin coos.

“You say that all the time.” Jeongin rolls his eyes. “And then still baby me.”

Seungmin takes Hyunjin’s phone from the floor, passing it to the owner. “Call Y/N.”

Hyunjin panics a little. “Why?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Better days start after meeting the person you want to see the most!”

“Speaking of you and Y/N,” Jeongin quips. “You guys aren’t in high school anymore, stop flirting with each other and date already.”

Hyunjin gets a surge of bravery and dials your number, but immediately regrets his decision with each passing minute. He almost ends the call when you finally answer. “Hyunjin?”

“H-hi,” he stammers. “Busy?”

“Kind of... What? What happened?”

“Can we meet? I only need a couple of minutes. You’re in Seoul, right?”

“I am. Hyunjin, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

It’s scaring me too.

“I want to tell you in person. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

Hyunjin isn’t sure when the lines between best friends and something more started to get blurry. The worse thing is, he realized it way too late and things got complicated before he could do anything about it.

“It’s too late to back out,” he mouths to himself while opening the stairwell door in the hospital you’re currently at. You’re sitting on one of the steps, dozing off as your head hits the wall every now and then.

Hyunjin runs his hand through his hair, guilt consuming him. He sits beside you, pulling your head to his right shoulder. The two of you always attended the same school until high school, when he decided to enroll in SOPA instead of a regular school. Since then, he never really knows what’s going on in your life. You told him about your close friends, the small fights, medical students’ inside jokes, the good looking boys, all the knowledge and experiences you’re grateful for despite the never-ending suffering and constant lack of sleep. You told him everything, but he’s never actually seen you in your world.

You’ve seen enough of his world—you’ve gone to his concerts, awards shows, even fansigns (as a prank because you wanted to see him getting all flustered while pretending not to know you). Hyunjin never has the time or makes an effort to do the same, and while it’s completely understandable due to the nature of his job, he feels like he’s going to lose you.

As he brushes your hair out of your face, Hyunjin asks himself whether he’s good enough for you.

“Whoa,” you suddenly whisper, straightening your body. “Did I fall asleep?”

Hyunjin stops you from getting up. “You must be tired.”

“So are you.” You remove his hand from your head. “So tell me. What’s going on?”

You’re here, sitting beside him, only wanting truth to come out of his mouth. Hyunjin bites his lip, the urge to just let go is eating him up, his soul begging him to get some answers. The familiar hollowness is back, and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

This isn’t the first time he cries in front of you, so you just pat his head, waiting for the tears to stop. “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You lift his head, eyes looking straight into his. “What for?” you mutter. “Hyunjin, please tell me.”

Hyunjin makes a silent plead at himself to toughen up, but it’s hard when you’re staring at him like this, wide eyes filled with raw concern and sincerity that never fail to touch the deepest part of his heart. “Hmm?” you prompt, still patting his head ever so softly.

“It’s been hard,” Hyunjin sniffles. “It’s hard to look forward to the future. I feel restless all the time. I have nothing to fight for. It’s…,” He makes gestures with his hand in attempt to explain it better. “… empty.”

You wipe his tears with the sleeve of your white coat. “Do you know why you feel that way?”

Hyunjin nods. “We’re doing well, we really are… and that’s probably why. Everything is going too well I don’t know what thrills me anymore. I thought I’d feel content once I reached all of my dreams, but that’s not the case.”

He examines your face, rehearsing the next lines in his head again and again. You cock an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. And the last bit of Hyunjin’s defense crumbles with every blink of your pretty eyes.

“And you… I miss you all the time. Even when you’re right here with me, I still miss you. I have to hold back whenever I’m with you because I don’t want you to run away from me. I love you, Y/N. I don’t know when it all started but maybe I’ve always loved you and it hurts me not being able to tell you that. The emptiness… it gets worse whenever you tell me we shouldn’t be seen together or that you have to go or when you have other boys like Jaehyun who are clearly better for you than I am because they can be there for you. I love you so bad you don’t know how hard it is to go through days without you, without kissing you good night, without hearing you laugh for me. I keep thinking, ‘what if you’re suddenly gone?’ Maybe you’ll leave me someday, maybe you’ll tell me that you can’t be my friend anymore, but I need you, Y/N. I love you and I need you here with me to keep going. I—”

Hyunjin watches you slowly—very slowly—retract your hand from his head as words fail him, and he feels as if his guts are being hammered to pieces. He can’t read your eyes, can’t even try to define what your gaze means.

You eventually stand up, pulling him up with you. “I’m not the answer, Hyunjin,” you mutter. “You can’t expect that you’ll never feel empty again once I say that I accept your feelings. It’s just—it’s not fair. This isn’t just about us not being together.”

“But—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your body start shaking due to all the tension. “I know. That’s how you feel, and I can’t dictate you what to feel and not to feel. Think about it like this…”

You pause to check if he’s still listening to you. He nods, weakly.

“… you spent years working your ass off to get recognition from everyone, and you did it. Don’t ever forget that, I’m begging you. So all of your dreams have come true and you feel lost now… it’s okay. You have a lot of time, Hyunjin. You can always have a new dream, you can have a thousand more. Don’t make me the answer to everything just because you haven’t found any other answer.”

You wait for him to respond, but Hyunjin is frozen to his spot. His world is now upside down, and he doesn’t know how long it will take to fix everything.

Your phone rings, snapping him out of his trance. You look at him apologetically. “I have to go.” Those damn words again. “Ask Seungmin to help you ice your face, you don’t want to show up at the airport with swollen eyes, do you? Call me before you take off, okay? Hyunjin?”

He can only nod, trying his best to give you the most reassuring smile. He feels everything all at once: shock, shame, sadness… but mostly regret because you’re right.

You always are.

“Have fun on tour! Send me all the photos you take!”

Now it’s turn for Hyunjin’s phone to ring as you make your way out, leaving him alone. He’s about to press the green button when the door opens once again. Hyunjin lets his phone ring, watching you fidget with your hands.

He’s still pretty much tongue-tied, but forces himself to ask, “Did you ever… love me? As more than friends?”

To his surprise, you take quick steps towards him, tiptoeing to press your lips on his. Your eyes are closed, your hands are tied to your sides and it takes Hyunjin his whole willpower to refrain himself from pulling your body closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the life out of you. He closes his eyes and just stands there, accepting whatever you’re willing to give him because there’s nothing he yearns more than your love and trust.

Hyunjin almost whines when you pull away with red cheeks and teary eyes. “Come back to me when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you. Only you.”

It’s Hyunjin’s 10th (or 11th? He can’t really remember) visit to New York, but he’s still as excited as a kid with his lollipop. After years of traveling from country to country, Hyunjin realizes that he just doesn’t get bored, ever. Each place holds a special memory he keeps close to his heart, something sentimental that motivates him to go back every chance he gets.

“Stand there,” he motions at Seungmin—the only one who’s willing to accompany him walking around the Empire State Building for the nth time—to stand at the spot he points at. Seungmin follows his instruction, smiling when Hyunjin starts counting. They examine the result and Seungmin shoves his leg. “I guess you finally learned something.”

Hyunjin feigns hurt, setting his camera’s focus on a group of kids, holding his breath before pressing the shutter. “As if you taught me anything.”

He glances at his bandmate who’s busy taking photos with his own camera. Photo hunting with Seungmin is always in Hyunjin’s “limited free time” itinerary. They’ve strolled around so many cities together, sometimes it takes the whole day if time allows them. Strangely, Seungmin never gets bored of it either and although it’s no surprise since he loves photography more than anything else, Hyunjin is grateful.

“You never say no whenever I ask you to take photos with me,” Hyunjin states. “Why?”

Seungmin frowns. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just wondering,” Hyunjin mumbles. “We do pretty much the same thing everytime. Sometimes I force you to go to the places we’ve been to… don’t you get bored?”

“It’s always different everytime, I thought that’s why sometimes you take photos at the same place? It’s never exactly the same, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin goes through the photos he took in New York last year, smiling at some of them as he recalls the funny anecdotes behind them. When he slips his phone back into his jeans pocket and lets his eyes wander… yes, nothing is exactly the same.

“You truly are a photographer. When’s your next exhibition, Photographer Kim?”

Seungmin snaps his finger. “Ah! Exhibition! I forgot to ask you, why don’t we held a joint exhibition this time?”

“You want to show your photos along with my photos?”

“Why not? Yours are amazing too! And you’re my best friend, it’ll be fun.”

Hyunjin imagines having his photo framed on the wall. Small placards pinned underneath, containing the words he constructs to explain each of them. The fans will come to feel how it feels like to be here behind the lens. Maybe people who don’t even know him will come too, and get a chance to actually know him.

He reaches his phone to relay the idea to you, smiling to himself when he finds messages from you instead.

y/n: [sends a picture]

y/n: ahreum finally woke up today! isnt she pretty?

me: everyone is prettier than you

me: you must be happy!!

y/n: ??????

y/n: oh. she asked me to recommend boygroup songs

y/n: i made her listen to every single skz song

y/n: and your solo songs!!!!

me: awwwwwww

me: and you cant be doing this for free right?

“Is that your best friend slash girlfriend?” Seungmin is suddenly standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “You guys are so cute it’s making me feel sick.”

Hyunjin sighs, gazing at the busy street upon him. “We’re not dating. At least not yet.”

“What happened? Just realized that I never really asked.”

“She asked me to come to her when I’m ready.”

Seungmin looks at him quizzically, but decides not to press him further. “Are you ready now?”

They’re flying back to Seoul next week, and while he thought he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, he truly did. He thinks of all the good things that have happened: the sold out shows, the happy tears, his improvement, the upcoming exhibition with Seungmin, and lastly, you—the one who’s patiently waiting for him.

There have been a lot of times when Hyunjin feels like he’s everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It sounds scary, but now he realizes that he only needs to admit that he’s indeed everywhere, but never nowhere.

“Almost.”

The instrumental of Grow Up starts to play and all the boys rush back to their designated positions. The atmosphere turns a bit more sentimental as the bridge approaches, they’re just looking at each other while Minho is singing his part. In the past, they often teased each other during this very part, afraid that they would break down if they let their emotions overtake them. Hyunjin averts his gaze to the audience, watching the beautiful color of their lightsticks light up the huge stadium. As he gestures at some of the fans to stop crying, Hyunjin thanks himself for convincing the others to add the song back to their setlist.

The song comes to an end, and Chan gathers everyone to make a circle. Hyunjin feels pats on his head and back, Chan’s voice drowned by the fans who are still singing. He can’t resist the urge to turn around, so he does just that, and what he won’t trade what he sees for anything.

Their fans are standing there, eyes focused on everyone on stage as they sing each syllable perfectly. Changbin follows his gaze, and soon all of them are facing the audience again, listening to every wish, every hope, and every message relayed through the lyrics of the song.

Hyunjin lifts his mic, eyes darting to Chan who gives him a nod of approval. “Thank you,” he begins. “This is our last stop for this tour, and I can’t be any prouder and thankful to all of you.”

He lets the translator translate his speech before continuing, “I had a lot of worries before the tour started. I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to go through everything.”

“You made our dreams come true,” Hyunjin continues. “You made my dreams come true and I naively thought that was the end of everything. But I learned a lot during this tour, and once again, you made this happen. All the pretty words you told us, they mean a lot. They always will. I realized that this will always be my dream, no matter how many times this has come true. I want to make you, who stay with us throughout everything, happy. I want to be here for a very long time. I want to be with you, to be with the members and our family, for a very long time.”

He stops when he feels he can’t continue anymore, letting the others take the spotlight. He gives each of his bandmates with a loving gaze, stopping at Minho who lets tears roll down his cheeks this time. Jeongin is giggling beside him, walking over to wrap the tsundere hyung in a firm hug.

Hyunjin thinks they’ve really come a long way.

Being back home usually gives Hyunjin a peace of mind, but when he sees no notification on his phone, he feels weird. He dials his mother’s number, his heart grows even more anxious when she picks up.

“Oh Hyunjin-ah, did you just land?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you come over here? Or do you have an important schedule?”

“No, we get 2 days off. What’s going on?”

“Y/N’s sister passed away. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, we didn’t want you to panic.”

“Eomma! How could you?”

“I’m sorry. This is Y/N’s request as well. She’s been here for 2 days and no one can make her eat anything. Can you take her home?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“You’re going to live in Germany! You’re such a lucky kid!”

The little girl smiles bashfully as you pout at her. “The luckiest girl on Earth,” you add, fixing her messy hair.

“If you’re so jealous of me, why don’t you come along?”

“Are you kidding?” you exclaim. “I’m on my way to be the greatest doctor in this country. You can’t change my mind.”

“Alright, it’s time to go,” your father interrupts, giving you one last hug before whispering things into your ear. Hyunjin steps back to allow you say goodbye to your family, tearing up at the painful sight. Your father, a doctor, accepts an offer to work in a hospital in Germany and takes the whole family with him since your sick little sister needs more intensive treatment.

But you’re staying to become a great doctor like your father, hoping you’ll get a chance to cure your sister later.

“Please take care of her, Hyunjin. We trust you,” your mother tells him. Hyunjin nods, enveloping your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here monitoring her every move and drag her back home whenever she spends too much time at the academy.”

Your sister laughs, bowing to Hyunjin. “I also want a boyfriend like Hyunjinoppa! Please take care of our unnie.”

You yank your hand away from him. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Hyunjin seems unbothered by your statement, bowing to your family to annoy you more. “Our family will take care of her, you can trust us.”

Your sister’s smiling face greets Hyunjin as he enters the funeral home. He stares at the photo then closes his eyes to pray, whispering strings of apologies that’s always too late. I’m sorry I never visited you. I’m sorry I failed to take care of your sister. I’m sorry I didn’t call you enough.

He bows to your family, the first bow since years ago, and he wishes he could turn back time. Hyunjin turns to you, gazing into your tired eyes. Your mother pulls him towards you. “She hasn’t eaten at all. Can you please bring her home, Hyunjin? I hope you’re not too busy. I’m sorry that we meet like this.”

“Hyunjin just landed in Seoul. How could you force him to come here?” you snap, returning his gaze. “Go home. I’ll call you later.”

Hyunjin almost yells in frustration, but swallows everything before dragging you out, only tightening his grip on your wrist when you try to pry his hand off of you. You keep shouting at him, yelling at him to stop, but Hyunjin doesn’t budge. He drags you all the way to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

Without waiting for you to move, he lifts your body and sits you down, fastening your seatbelt. “Please don’t push me away,” he pleads. “Why do you always tell me go home, go back to practice, to leave… why?! I promised your parents to take care of you. I promised your sister, why aren’t you letting me do that?!”

“I never asked you to do that,” you mutter through gritted teeth, causing Hyunjin to grip your shoulders.

“You only said that to hurt me,” he replies. “Even now you’re still trying to push me away. I want to be here Y/N. Don’t you want me here?”

You avoid his eyes, keeping your gaze on your clasped hands. “Tell me,” Hyunjin challenges. “Tell me that you don’t want me to stay with you, and I’ll leave.”

He waits for you to respond, letting out a relieved sigh he doesn’t bother hiding when you shake your head. “Want you here. Thank you.”

“Have you cried?”

After your sister was born, you were told not to shed tears in front of her. Your parents always scolded you if you started crying when you saw her in pain, and after some time, it became a habit. A habit that Hyunjin absolutely despises since it makes you suppress your feelings, as if punishing you for having feelings.

“I don’t know… maybe I haven’t.”

“You lost your sister, you can cry. Your parents cried a lot too, it’s fine.”

You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck when tears start to well up. Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple, finding himself tearing up the moment you start sobbing, something he has never witnessed although he’s known you for almost his whole life.

“Is this your Armani suit?” you manage to voice in the middle of sobs and snorts. He takes you into his embrace, chuckling, “Yes, but you can ruin it however you want. Another privilege as my best friend.”

“Can I abuse this privilege?”

“Ruining my expensive suits?”

“No,” you laugh airily. “Crying when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin cups your wet cheeks, gently pushing your hands away when you want to wipe your tears away. “Anytime. You can cry, laugh, curse, get angry, get drunk… you can do anything when you’re with me.”

And that’s all it takes before you start sobbing into his suit again. Hyunjin is standing there for the longest time, sandwiched by the passenger seat and door of his car with you in his arms. He doesn’t care, he will do it all over again, and he will do much more. For you, and only you.

“Where are you? It’s past midnight already!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you’re lucky I’m willing to go home when I have a morning shift tomorrow,” you scold him over the phone.

“It’s my birthday! Wait, it isn’t even my birthday anymore!” he whines in an obnoxious tone that never fails to upset you. He giggles when he hears you huff, the sound of the elevator signaling that you’ve already arrived.

“You asked me to buy you a cake right before I left,” you hiss. “Now open the door, I’m outside.”

The call ends and Hyunjin rushes to the door. You’re carrying the red velvet cake he requested, the candles already lit and Hyunjin tries not to melt at the way you look at him. He did ask you to buy him a cake and “surprise” him at your apartment, but he is nowhere near ready to see you like this: all smiley and cheery for him despite sounding annoyed over the phone.

“Happy birthday,” you sing song, your smile growing wider as he blows the candle. Hyunjin returns your smile before taking the cake from you, pulling you towards your room. “Go get changed, I’ll slice the cake for you.”

A few minutes later, both of you are seated on your couch, talking about every little thing while enjoying the cake. Hyunjin tells you about Stray Kids’ upcoming comeback, a very special one since Minho choreographed the title track. You tell him about various cases that happened in the hospital while wondering if you’ll ever finish medical school and actually be a doctor.

Everything feels the way Hyunjin expects it to be, until you put your empty plate on the table and look at him straight in the eyes. “Hyunjin…”

He quickly swallows and places his plate on the table as well, never breaking eye contact with you. “What?”

You gulp. “Do you remember when I asked you to come find me when you’re ready?”

“Feels like yesterday.”

“Well,” you murmur. “I’m just wondering if you’re… ready.”

Fire lights up in his stomach, and before you can continue, Hyunjin is already trapping you between his body and the couch. “I am,” he says. “Are you?”

You brush his fringe with your fingers. “You were waiting for me?”

“You told me to start dreaming again, so I did,” Hyunjin recalls. “And I realized that all of my dreams are right in front of me—you, my family, the hyungs, Jeongin, the fans… keeping you guys with me is something I’ll always dream of although all of you are already here.”

You pout at him, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the proud gleam in your eyes. “Then what’s taking you so long?”

He pinches your nose. “I waited for you to be ready, as you said before, it wasn’t just about us being together. I don’t want you to choose me only because you feel like you need me. I want you to… want me… to love me with a clear head. Just like what you wanted me to do. I want to give you the world, but only if you allow me to.”

You circle your arms around his neck, sighing happily, “You gave me the world, Hyunjin. You listen to me, you console me, you give me a shoulder to cry on. You’re the only one I’ve ever waited for, and I’m so glad that you came back to me.”

Hyunjin is sure that his whole system has stopped working, the words you just uttered feel like the strongest, yet the sweetest liquor he’s ever tasted. He is drunk on the love you offer; he’s drunk on your touch, your smile and everything you want to give him. You’re driving him nuts, completely nuts, but it’s the only thing he wants to feel. You are the only one he yearns to feel.

You seem to sense his burning gaze and start nibbling on your bottom lip. “So this is the part where you kiss me…”

“This is the part where I kiss you…”

You shake your head. “This feels weird. You’re my best friend.”

“You kissed me,” Hyunjin reminds you. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

“No, but—” You pause to let yourself breathe. “I kissed you. This is different, I’m not going to survive you kissing me.”

“For the love of God Y/N, just—”

You point at your lips. “And I still have my lipgloss on!”

Hyunjin is caressing your reddening cheek now, trying to destroy the last bit of your defense. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asks softly.

“It’s sticky! Our lips will get stuck and it won’t be romantic.”

“So what do you want to do? Go into your room and wipe it off with a cotton pad or something?”

“Yeah, let’s do—”

Hyunjin doesn’t let you finish as he finally dives in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that set both of you on fire. He hums when he feels your body relax in his hold, allowing him to savor you with so much longing and want. Hyunjin lets his heart take the lead, kissing you harder whenever you tug the ends of his hair and making him putty under your touch. It never feels enough, it feels like he only gets hungrier everytime you return his kiss, the feeling of your lips moving against his almost destroys him.

Nothing is stopping him now, he came back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Hyunjin leaves one more open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling away with a loud pop, taking in the sight of you trying to breathe. You slowly meet his eyes with flushed cheeks, eyes mirroring his own and Hyunjin tries to remember every single detail. “God I love you so much,” he hears himself whisper.

You smile, lifting your hand to trace his face delicately. “I love you.”

“Are you mine now?” Hyunjin knows this is childish, but he wants to hear it. He longs to hear it.

Thankfully, you’re willing to play his game tonight. “Only yours.”

“No more mourning over Jung Jaehyun?”

“Jesus Christ, do you need to stoop that low.”

“Yes.” Hyunjin pecks your nose. “He doesn’t listen to K-pop, right? Introduce him to me.”

You roll your eyes. “I love you, why the hell are we talking about Jaehyun now?”

“Then what should we talk about?”

“Since we’re on a competition to ruin the mood, lemme burst your bubble: my parents are moving back in next week so we need another place to do... this.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin answers. “What are we gonna do now?”

You wrap your legs around his torso, making him gasp. “I don’t know, kiss me again? I’m gonna tell you this just once, but I, along with thousands of other people, have always wanted to kiss you. It made me feel pathetic, but it is what it is.”

Hyunjin blushes, but refuses to lose to you. “You tried to make me not kiss you a few minutes ago and now you’re desperate to kiss me. Was I that good?”

“Hmmm I guess so,” you hum.

He swiftly lifts your body, grinning when you tighten your hold around his neck. “Well, I’m yours to kiss now,” he teases, trying to walk into room without knocking into things. You leave soft kisses all over his face, prompting Hyunjin to walk faster so he could just kiss you already.

When your back hit your bed, Hyunjin stops to admire your face. “I kissed you a long time ago, don’t you remember?”

Your eyes widen. “You? Kissed me? With those plush lips? When?!”

“You don’t remember? But it was our first kiss!”

You spend the next few minutes racking your brain before nodding. “Ah, it did happen a long time ago.”

“It’s okay, maybe you wanted to forget that moment. It was your darkest time, and I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Shaking your head, you run your thumb along his lip. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”

Hyunjin closes the gap between you once again, hoping to chase away all the sorrow inside your soul. You pull him closer, making him practically lying on top of you, feeling your chest rise with each touch of his lips on your skin. “Thank you,” a kiss on each of your eye, “for,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “making me,” a kiss on your lips—this time he lets it linger, “dream,” a kiss on your chin, “again,” and a kiss on your neck.

It took Hyunjin so long to understand the world, and now he still hasn’t understood even half of it. But in the middle of his journey, he met you. He learned to dream, he learned to love you.

And he learned to love himself.

The door opens with a bang, revealing an incredibly panicked Hyunjin. He just finished training when he received a call from you, who said nothing but, “I won’t let you walk home alone.” You wouldn’t end the call throughout his way home, but refused to say anything else and almost making Hyunjin dash to the police station.

Hyunjin sees your shadow, letting out a small scream when he spots you lying on the floor in the dark. He runs to you, about to carry you back into your room when you stop him. “I feel like crying,” you rasp, choking on your saliva. “I can’t stop it.”

It’s been a month since your family left, and while you’re trying your best to be a big girl and live the way you always do, it’s not easy. Hyunjin lies beside you, eyes locked on the tears rolling down your cheeks. You never cry loudly. You never sob nor wail. You just cry silently, mostly in the dark so you can’t see yourself crying.

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, hovering over you before tracing your tears with his lips as if it can stop them. He pecks every wet spot, slowly getting to your lips. He leaves a chaste, barely-there kiss before wrapping his arms around you, whispering comforting things until you start falling asleep on the hard floor.

Hyunjin hopes you’ll allow yourself to cry however you wish to someday.

a/n: i was so happy writing this that i almost cried when i finished because i know i’m going to miss writing this one. this story feels so sentimental, happy and sad at the same time and probably that’s why i feel so attached to it. ive wanted to write this since last year, even before “give my heart a chance”. i always wondered what would happen after we reach our dreams and i hope you’ll feel a little better after reading this (especially if you’re experiencing the same thing). this story is a long journey, but i hope you’ll enjoy it. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 13: Paper And Ink]

A/N: Can I just take a second to say how happy I am to see all of your reactions to my little fic?! I have never been a super popular writer on Tumblr but I like to think that I have some of the cleverest, kindest, most thoughtful readers around. Your support for and emotional investment in my stories makes me so, so, so happy. Please enjoy this latest chapter...it’s the longest one yet! 💜

Also, MAJOR shout out to @writerxinthedark​ and her constant insanely astute observations!! Girl, I’m shook. Do you have ESP or what...? 👀

Chapter summary: Roger tries to reach a compromise, John tries to offer solace, Chrissie tries out some retro science, Y/N tries to process some alarming new information.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language! Discussion of substance abuse! Babies! Drama! Angst!!!

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​ @pomjompish​ @writerxinthedark​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You can’t leave,” John pleads. One of his hands—strong, nimble, a gold band on his wedding finger—is clutching the wooden bedpost. Chrissie paces back and forth beside him, gnawing her thumbnail until it bleeds, silent tears streaking down her ruddy cheeks.

You throw your open suitcase onto the bed and start yanking things out of drawers: panties and bras—the practical ones, not the sexy ones, I won’t be needing those in the immediate future—jeans, velvet dresses, sweaters, socks, mittens, scarves. It’ll be cold in Boston. “I’m going home.”

“Love, please...” Chrissie sobs.

“I’m not staying here.” Your voice is surprisingly steady, resolved even. “I’m not going to stay in this house with him. I’m not going to follow him around the world watching him fuck other women and humiliate me in tabloids. I’m done, I’m going home.”

“You have a contract with the record company, you’re the tour nurse!” Chrissie protests. “Jesus christ, they could sue you for non-performance! When does the band leave, a week from now?!”

“Six days,” John says softly.

“Six days!” Chrissie shouts at you.

“I’m not going. They can sue me, that’s fine.” I don’t have any money anyway. None that’s actually mine.

“You can’t leave,” John says again. His greyish eyes are wide and restless, desperate; you didn’t know it was possible for him to be this agitated. He’s not Queen’s unflappable bassist today.

“Yeah? Observe.” You pick the pink conch shell up off the dresser—the one John found for you on the beach in Ostia, during a tour that feels like a lifetime ago—and tuck it gently into a corner of your suitcase where it will be cushioned by knit sweaters. “John, I have a bunch of your sketches downstairs. There’re some on the refrigerator, some framed in the living room, a couple on the dining room walls...will you go get those for me, please? I can’t leave without them.”

John just stares at you, blinking and thunderstruck.

Next to the empty space on the dresser where the conch shell once lived is the Canon F-1. You consider the camera for a moment, then snatch it up and move to hurl it out of the second-story window.

John jolts out of his paralysis. “No no no no, I think you’ll regret that.” He gently pries the Canon out of your grasp and places it back on the dresser.

“What the hell are you going to do in Boston?!” Chrissie wails. “All your friends are here now! Your life is here!”

“I’m going to get a job at the hospital and marry some boring, predictable man and get a house with a white picket fence and fill it with two exceptionally average children”—if I can have them, and that’s a big if as it turns out—“and a golden retriever and live out the rest of my days in blissful, prosaic anonymity. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on, you don’t want that!” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve never wanted that, that’s why you came to London with the band to begin with!”

“I don’t want to feel like this!” you scream, and all those tears you didn’t know you were biting back start spilling out in hot, torrential streams. Your breath hitches; your throat burns. Like wildfire. John pulls you to his chest, murmurs that everything will be okay, cradles the back of your head with his palm. You know he’s exchanging a glance with Chrissie over your shoulder. That’s why she brought him here, after all; to help talk you off the ledge, to help convince you to stay.

“What a fucking mess,” Chrissie says in despair.

“It’s my fault,” you choke out.

“It’s not,” John whispers.

“It is,” you insist bitterly, sobbing into him. “Everyone warned me and I ignored it because I’m a complete idiot and now I’ve gone and ruined my life.”

“You don’t have to go!” Chrissie implores. “You can stay here. With us, with me and John and Mary and Freddie and Brian. You have British citizenship, you can get a job at a hospital in London if you really want to leave the band. You can stay with me and Bri for as long as you need to until you’re back on your feet, or with Freddie...they’d give you any amount of money you needed to get started...they’d be heartbroken if you left, love, you’ve been there for them through everything, since Queen was just a bunch of nobodies, since we were all flat broke...they’re never going to forget that loyalty you showed them, that faith. They’d do anything to repay you.”

You sigh shakily as you untangle yourself from John and wipe your eyes. “If I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life dodging Roger at birthday parties and holidays and restaurants. And being known as the wife he fucked around on. I’ll be a pitiful mess of a person. They had a photo of me in the News Of The World, did you know that? A tiny little circular photo under a huge, glamorous one of Dominique. ‘Look everyone, check out the dashing rock star’s sad, pathetic, unremarkable, soon-to-be-ex-wife. Surely you can appreciate why he’d shop around.’”

“Yes, I saw that part,” Chrissie says softly. She understands some of what you’re feeling, surely, and yet she must also have a sensation of gratefulness; plenty of musicians wander like tornadoes, touching down and sowing chaos wherever their compulsions take them, but few wives have the misfortune of seeing their names and faces paraded through the tabloids. Suddenly, Chrissie isn’t the most-wronged wife in Queen anymore.

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god. My parents might even hear about this. They could be buying wine and Cheetos at the grocery store and see my husband and his girlfriend on the cover of a magazine in the checkout line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chrissie replies, her voice hoarse. John crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing; but he kicks the wooden bedframe hard enough to send a crack down the center of the footboard.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Chrissie and John whirl to you, panicked.

“Hey, love of my life!” Roger’s chipper voice vaults up the staircase. Someone hasn’t checked the headlines yet. “Baby? You home?”

“Do you want me to stay?” John asks you.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. I’ll hide in the goddamn bushes outside the window if that would be helpful.”

“No, John.” You smile and climb onto your toes to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, to hug him goodbye. He’s warm and comfortable and sheltering. He feels more like home than this house ever has, isn’t that strange? And for a second, just one, you wonder what your life would look like if there had been no Veronica, no Roger.

You’d still be in Boston, you idiot, you chastise yourself. You never would have come to London with Queen if it wasn’t for Roger. And You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about you.

“Thank you,” you tell John. “But I have to do this part myself.”

“Okay. Don’t you dare go cart yourself off to Heathrow without telling me first, alright?”

“Sure,” you say, not meaning it. I can’t let him stop me.

“Good luck,” Chrissie frets, wringing her hands, twirling her wedding ring. “Call me, okay? I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I hear from you. I’ll chew my poor fingers to the bone.”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Hey baby!” Roger materializes in the bedroom doorway, pushes his prescription sunglasses up into his windswept blond hair, peers around the room at you and John and Chrissie. And you’re suddenly reminded of how a room changes when Roger walks into it, how everything shifts somehow, becomes brighter, more alive, brimming with magnificent potential; how cavernously empty the world would feel without him in it. Chrissie glares at him with her arms crossed, nostrils flaring, tapping one fashionable riding boot against the hardwood floor. “Uhhhh...am I interrupting something?”

“Bye, love.” Chrissie kisses you quickly on each cheek and breezes out of the room. You hear her boots clopping as she descends down the staircase. After a moment, John follows her.

“You despicable prick,” John hisses as he passes Roger in the doorway.

Roger is mystified. “Baby, what’s going on?” His eyes flick to the hastily packed suitcase, to the cracked footboard. “What the fuck happened to the bed?”

There are so many ways to ask the same question. When did you decide that you needed to have her? Who is she to you? How could you do this to me? What did she give you that I couldn’t? Instead, what you ask him this: “Have you seen the News Of The World today?”

His brow furrows into deep grooves. “No...” But something primal flashes in his vivid blue eyes, just briefly. Something like fear. He knows he’s done things that would hurt me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unearth them all.

You grab the magazine off the bed and hurl it at him. Roger picks it up off the floor and flips to the front page. His shoulders slump, one hand comes up to cover his mouth, he exhales in a deep sigh; his whole body shifts the same way a room does when he walks out of it: dims, deflates, goes bloodless. He calmly lays the News Of The World on the dresser, folds his sunglasses and sets them down as well, rubs his eyes with the heels of his calloused hands. Then he turns to you.

He’s going to deny it, you think, revolted. He’s going to deny it just like Brian did, try to patch things up in some weak and gutless way, placate me so he can drift off to sleep at night imagining he’s a good husband.  

But Roger isn’t Brian. He never has been.

He asks you quietly, in surrender: “What do you want to know?”

Your stomach plunges into freefall, because this is real. Maybe there was some part of me that was hoping this was a mistake, some naïve and hopeful sliver of idealism left over from childhood, from a time when everything in the world was either good or evil and nothing lived in the treacherous shadows in between. “How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Roger, it matters.”

“Not long.” He waves a hand glibly. “She...ah...well she thought I was pretty maddening at first. It took her a while to come around to the idea.”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped. “Jesus christ, Roger. Thank you, that’s great, thank you for that information.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he protests, exasperated. “I’m really not, I don’t...I just don’t...bloody hell, I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what? To fuck around?! Obviously that’s inaccurate—”

“No, to confess!” he shouts. “I never confess, I never admit it, I just avoid or deflect or deny it, and when that doesn’t work anymore I just walk out because usually I don’t care enough to have the conversation. But now I do so I’m really, really trying to give you what you want. I thought you wanted answers. So ask me whatever you want to and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Everyone lies. Everyone disappoints you. I knew that, I really did...but somehow I let him convince me that I didn’t. That he was built of nothing but light. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s a fling, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t corner her somewhere and tell her that you’re planning on breaking up with me.”

Roger winces. I wasn’t going to end up like Josephine, that was the first promise I made to myself on British soil. And look where I am now. “No. Never.”

“Why, Roger?”

He looks away, runs his hands through his hair; he genuinely doesn’t know how to answer.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you even sorry...?”

He speaks carefully, purposefully. “I’m sorry you had to find out, that you were hurt by it. And I’m really fucking sorry about that headline. Discretion is extremely important to me. I never would have let that happen, but you know...” He shrugs, smirking guiltily in that disarmingly bewitching way that he does. Stop, you warn yourself, feeling something in you grasping for reasons to stay. “I haven’t been thinking especially clearly lately.”

“Yes, between the coke and the drinking and the pills you’re quite the disaster, aren’t you?” Scalding tears slither down your face. “So you’re not sorry you did it. You’re not sorry that you’re an addict or a cheater.”

“It’s not about that. It’s...” He searches for the words like premonitions in tea leaves. “Yes, there are drugs and parties and women. There are a lot of those things. But I’m not addicted to any of them. I’m addicted to being Roger Taylor, drummer of one of the best bands in the world. It’s everything I am, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. I never want to live in a world where that’s not who I am anymore. You understand that, what it’s like to feel caged and miserable, you know what it’s like to want to experience things. And so if it takes coke and pills to get up on that stage every night and drum under those blinding lights until it feels like my arm is split open again, okay, no problem, I’ll do it. If women are a part of the lifestyle, a part of being free, then I’ll take advantage of that. And why the fuck does it matter? Why do so many people think that fidelity is the ultimate manifestation of love? Plenty of faithful people hate each other. Plenty of people who screw around are irretrievably in love with one person, are fucking owned by them. I love you. I want to come home to you. I want to raise my children with you if that’s a possibility, and if it’s not then fine, whatever, I’m gonna love you all the same. You’re still on my list, Boston babe. You’re always going to be on my list. Why isn’t that enough?”

“John doesn’t cheat,” you object helplessly. Even if he has all the reasons in the world to.

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s a very different kind of man. A better one, probably. But you’ve always known who I was. And I never promised you an ordinary life.”

You shake your head, hide your face in your hands, can’t force the words to leave your trembling lips. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I thought it could be, but it’s just not.

Roger says, gently: “I know we said the marriage didn’t mean anything”—yes, that was your condition, wasn’t it?—“but that’s not completely true. It’s not just paper and ink. It does mean something. It means that you’re the person I want to take care of, the person I can rely on to provide for my family and friends if something ever happened to me. It means that I love and trust you in a way that is unconditional. That you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to live like this, Roger,” you whisper.

“So what’s next?” he demands. “So you’re going to take that suitcase and run back to the States and...what, get a job at the same hospital you were so desperate to escape from? Back out of the tour? Abandon the band and the friends you have here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you.”

For the first time, you hurt him; you really hurt him. You see it ripple across his face like cold, swirling ocean waves. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided, Roger.”

“Come on, baby, please, we can work this out—”

“I’m not interested.” You zip the suitcase closed, heave it off the bed, and drag it towards the door.

“So even if we can’t work it out,” Roger erupts, bolting to the doorway, to stand between you and whatever a life after him looks like. “Don’t leave the band. Leave me, just me, but not the band. I know you don’t want to leave them. I know they’ll be devastated if you disappear, not to mention they might legitimately murder me over it. Bri can be a twat, sure, but he’s convinced you saved his life. You and I might be the only people on the whole fucking planet who can see how brilliant John is, who understand him. Freddie’s convinced you’re some kind of good luck charm, you know how superstitious he is, he’ll start having those meltdowns again where he insists he can’t sing five minutes before a show and that the band is doomed, the tour will be a complete disaster. We need you. And I want you to keep the job you love, the travel, the mansion, the money, I want you to have all of it. You’ve earned it. You shouldn’t lose it because of me.”

And as you clutch the handle of your suitcase, your mind dashing from one logistical step to the next—grab my passport and some cash out of the safe, collect all of John’s sketches, call a cab to take me to Heathrow—you start remembering things. But you don’t see them like flashes, like misty reveries, no; you feel them like heat from a roaring fireplace, like Mediterranean pebbles digging into the wrinkled soles of your feet, like the deafening screams of crowds filling the Rainbow Theater, the Hammersmith Odeon, the Apollo, the Budokan, Madison Square Garden. Memories of excavating shards of glass from John’s hand in a New Orleans mansion crawling with fantasies and nightmares, of toasting pink champagne in the lobby of the Chelsea Register Office, of museums and parks and beaches and apartments filled with threadbare couches and extravagant dreams, of Christmases and New Year’s Eves, of Roger convincing you to come to London with Queen on a June morning in 1974, cradling your face in his rough hands, promising you everything you’ve ever wanted: ‘Love...Accept. The fucking. Offer.’ And you could run to the other side of the world, sure; but you’re never going to be able to carve those memories out of your bones.

You let go of the suitcase, and Roger’s smile lights up his face like the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful...careful, love...” Roger contorts himself to keep the umbrella over you and the Boston cream pie you’re carrying as rain pours out of a sinister grey sky. You both hurry beneath the roof that covers the front porch and ring the doorbell. Freddie answers wearing a tight green shirt, jeans, and an enormous toothy grin.

“Oh, for me?” he squeals, eyeing the pie.

You step inside as Roger stays out on the porch to shake off the umbrella and finish his cigarette; Chrissie hates people smoking in her house, and one should get what they want on their birthday. “Obviously, it’s for Chris. But I suspect she’ll share.”

Chrissie appears in a blue dress, her wide-set pale eyes alight as she gazes at the pie. “At last! I finally get to try one of these! And yes, Freddie, I’m only going to have the teeniest tiniest piece, so there will be more than enough to go around.” She embraces you and takes the pie. “Is this homemade?! It is, isn’t it?”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie,” you announce with a tired smile. Queen leaves for the News Of The World Tour in two days. You’re leaving with them, to everyone’s palpable relief; Freddie and Brian have never mentioned the headline to you, but they know about it of course. Everybody knows. It’s an elephant in every room, an ancient beast that quakes the floor when it walks.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Chrissie tells you. “I always do.” But she’s a little thankful, too; because spending months away on tour is undoubtedly preferable to a permanent absence, a visibly missing piece like a chip in a tooth.

“I know. I’ll call.”

Roger steps inside the massive Chelsea home. “Happy birthday, Chris!”

She promptly spins away, ignoring him, and ferries the pie off to the kitchen. Freddie wraps an arm around Roger’s shoulder and steers him into the living room where Mary, John, a perpetually pregnant Veronica, and a host of assorted Mullens and Mays are passing the twins around like footballs and chatting over appetizers and tea and cookies. Biscuits, you correct yourself. And the shrimp cocktail are called prawns.

“What did you say your name was?” a middle-aged, rotund, bearded man asks John disinterestedly. “Josh? James?”

“John, actually. I’m the bassist.”

The man frowns as he gobbles down a shrimp. “Oh, how odd, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Yeah?” Roger pipes as he sails over and claps the man aggressively on the shoulder. “Well let me introduce you. This is John Richard Deacon and he wrote You’re My Best Friend, you’ve heard of that one, right? He learned the electric piano to compose it. Yes, he doesn’t just play bass, he has all sorts of gifts. He’s massively talented. He builds amps and manages finances and can sketch pictures that look like freaking photographs...”

You wander into the kitchen where Chrissie is slicing herself a miniscule portion of Boston cream pie. “Oh fuck it, it’s my birthday. I’m having a proper piece of pie, thighs be damned.” She goes in for a second attempt. “You want any?”

“No, I’m alright. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Not compulsively consuming your own weight in snacks to avoid socializing with strangers? That’s unlike you.”

Well, since you asked, I was feeling even more piggish than usual until I found out my husband was fucking somebody else, and also that the entire country knows about it. “Yeah, weird.”

Brian enters the kitchen. “Oh, pie!”

“You want a piece?” Chrissie asks cheerfully. So they’ve made up somehow. Like they always do, like they always will.

“Yes, absolutely, but I’ll get it myself, love. You go enjoy yourself. It’s your day.”

She beams up at him and journeys out to the living room. You are in no rush to join her. Watching Roger charm the crowd, allowing him to dazzle you, to lull you back into his orbit like the subsidiary moon of a vast, ringed planet...no, you have no stomach for that at all. You pour yourself a glass of red wine and try to swallow without tasting it.

Brian’s doting demeanor evaporates like he’s taken off a mask. He sighs, mixes himself a Vesper, sips it as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies you warily. “How are things?”

“Paradisiacal.” Each night you sleep in the guest room with the blue-grey walls and the seahorse-patterned blankets. Roger tried to give you the main bedroom, still sleeps in a spare room in case you ever decide you want it; but you like that the blue room is smaller, more humble, that it smells like John’s brand of cigarettes, that there is no gaping emptiness where Roger usually is. Roger doesn’t try to talk to you about Dominique. He is attentive, optimistic, easygoing, affectionate; he lights the fireplace in the living room and brings you hot chocolate, he wears the red hat you once knit him every time he leaves the house. But he left the paperwork showing he’d sold the apartment—the ‘London Love Nest,’ isn’t that what the headline called it?—out on the kitchen table where you would see it. You know he’s waiting for you to forgive him, as if that’s an inevitability. And every once in a while you feel a guttural stab of fear that he might be right. Someone puts Hotel California on the record player out in the living room. “Every time I hear this goddamn song I get acid trip flashbacks. I start thinking of sharks for some reason.”

“It reminds me of...” Brian’s gaze goes murky. “Well, of a girl from New Orleans.”

The one from the hot tub. The one with a peach tattooed on her shoulder blade.

“We have a stop there,” you say. “You know, on the tour. We’ll be there for a few nights.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

No, perhaps that’s all he’s been thinking about.

“How are you these days, Bri? Two beautiful children, adoring wife, We Will Rock You becoming a fantastically successful single...your world must seem pretty golden.”

“You’d think so.” He peers out the window where raindrops are clinging to fogged glass and the November skies are illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning like Morse code. At last he says, very softly: “I think I married the wrong person.”

“I think I did too.”

Bri raises his eyebrows and clinks his Vesper against your wine glass. “So we were both right. Fantastic. Cheers.”

You gulp down the rest of your wine, feeling your stomach roil in protest. You pour another glass. Brian drains his Vesper.

“You want me to escort you out there?” Brian asks, gesturing towards the living room. “I’ll happily redirect everyone’s attention towards the twins if you’d like. They’re very convenient conversation starters.”

“No, thanks Bri. You go ahead.”

“Alright. If you insist.” A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us, love. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. And I’m sure things won’t feel easy for a long time. But Queen wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there before I punch you in your fragile liver.”

Brian laughs, sets his glass in the sink, and disappears into the living room. You stall in the kitchen by yourself. You sip wine, browse through the family photos displayed on the refrigerator, listen to the polite chatter of the guests from a distance. Eventually you venture towards the living room before losing your nerve and veering down the hallway towards the back porch. Outside the rain is falling torrentially, the sky rumbling with thunder. John is sitting on a wooden bench under the roof and smoking as he gazes out into the storm.

“Hey,” he says, sliding over to make room for you on the bench.

You sit down beside him and hold out your hand. He stares at you for a moment, puzzled, before passing you his cigarette. You take one long drag and give it back to him. John blinks at you, stunned.

“That’s extremely bad for you,” he teases.

“So is getting hammered and driving into cop cars.”

He clutches his chest. “Ouch. I felt that in my soul.”

You shove him, chuckling. He points down at your boots. You swing your feet up to rest in his lap, and he lays his left hand on them while he smokes with his right.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I know you might not want to talk about it. That’s fine. But if there’s any baggage you’d like to unburden yourself of, I’m listening.”

I’ve got baggage, all right. I’ve got enough to fill a Boeing 747. “Everyone warned me. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea to fall in love with him. Everyone except you, John. Why is that?”

He’s slow and deliberate when he answers. “I never wanted you to be with someone because...you know...because you thought you should be with them. Because they were the ‘smart’ choice or the ‘safe’ choice or whatever. I wanted you to make your own decisions, whatever those were. I wanted you to be with someone...whoever that was...only because you wanted to be. Because you loved them.”

You nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I told you once that it didn’t mean anything to someone like Roger when he...you know. When he does what he does. I was telling the truth then, and I’m telling the truth now. I don’t think it meant anything to him. And I don’t know if that kills any of the pain I know you’re feeling, but I hope it does. Because you being in pain is the absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted. Are you angry with me for not trying to change your mind?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you mean it. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because they took away my driver’s license for a year and I’m probably going to need a lot of rides from you.”

You laugh, a brash authentic laugh, and John grins over at you.

Chrissie hauls the sliding glass door open and steps out onto the porch with a frustrated huff. “I know this party is technically for me, but when you’re the mother of infant twins sometimes all you really want is a smoke, a nap, and a bottle of vodka.” She lights a cigarette and plops down into a chair facing the bench.

“How are you, Chris?” What you mean is: Have you screamed much at your husband lately?

“I’m doing pretty well today, actually.”

“Is that because you’re genuinely happy or because you’ve trained yourself not to be sad?”

Chrissie smirks. “You’ll find those feel like the same thing after a while.”

“No, I won’t find out. Because I’m not staying with him.”

“Love...” Chrissie begins.

“I’ll stay in London. I’ll even stay with the band. But I’m not going to stay married to him.”

“Y/N, please, maybe you should think about this,” Chrissie presses. “I know you love him. And I know he makes you wonderfully happy when times are good. Maybe that’s all we can ask for, you know? Wives in our predicament. Maybe we can learn to cherish them when they’re with us, bottle up the magic, store it on a shelf to tide us over until they come back home. No one else is going to light you up the way he does. There’s only one Roger Taylor. Withdrawal from that is going to be hell.”

You glower out into the wind and rain and say nothing.

“And that woman, Dominique Beyrand? I’ve asked around about her, she’s got some husband back in France that she goes home to when she’s not working here. It’s just a fling for her too, it’s nothing serious. I don’t think there was any chance he would have ever considered actually leaving you for her.”

“He bought her an apartment, Chris.”  

“Men do stupid things that don’t mean anything all the time. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Sure,” he offers ungenerously.

You stop yourself before the words tumble recklessly from your lips: Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, Chrissie. “I’m divorcing him,” you vow quietly.

“Okay,” Chrissie capitulates. “Okay. I’m sorry, love, please forgive me. I only got two hours of sleep, Teddy was crying all night.” She puffs on her cigarette and sighs mournfully. “I hate to say it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I guess it was sort of lucky you never got pregnant. Can you imagine trying to split up when you have children together? Working out custody and finances and holidays, having to pretend like you don’t want to disembowel each other all the bloody time...it would be torture.”

John glares at her, his left hand still on your boots.

“Yeah,” you respond; but now you’re distracted, because you remember the reason why you had been so determined to ignore the phone when Chrissie called to warn you about the News Of The World headline. Because the kitchen phone was right next to the calendar, and the calendar would report in no uncertain terms that your period was due.

When was that? A week ago?

You can’t be late. You’ve never been late.

“Oh god,” you breathe.

“What?” John asks, concerned.

In reply, you lurch off the bench, stumble to the edge of the porch, and vomit red wine into the wet grass like a gush of blood. Chrissie soars to you and rubs your back as you retch into her lawn. “Oh no, you poor thing!”

“John, go away,” you choke out as he approaches. “I’m humiliated, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You saw me in a jail cell. I’m staying.”

You turn to look up at them. They read the raw horror and shock in your eyes. John’s jaw falls open and he shakes his head, firmly in denial. You could relate.

Chrissie gasps. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“No fucking way,” you wheeze. “After all this time, after all those months of nothing...”

“You better take a test,” Chrissie says. “Come on, I have a kit upstairs.”

She pulls you to your feet and leads you to her bathroom, deftly avoiding the increasingly intoxicated crowd downstairs. John waits just outside the door as Chrissie rummages around in the closet for the test kit. It’s a contraption that looks like a chemistry set, with a dropper and a test tube and a stand with a mirror. You piss into a paper cup—successfully although not with flying colors—and wash your trembling hands in the sink with a piece of pink soap shaped like a seashell. Then you lay on the cold linoleum floor with a folded towel for a pillow and a bucket within reach. Chrissie trickles a few droplets of urine into the test tube, mixes in the contents of a small plastic vial, and places the test tube in the holder that suspends it above the mirror.

Chrissie explains to John: “If she’s pregnant, the chemicals will form a brown ring in the tube. If there’s no ring, we’re in the clear.”

“How fitting,” you chuckle from the floor, dazedly, cynically. “That would be the only ring I’ve ever gotten.”

It takes two hours. The three of you loiter in the bathroom, Chrissie and John perched on the rim of the enormous garden tub, fidgeting and chitchatting anxiously. They alternate popping downstairs, mingling just long enough to not arouse suspicions, bringing back biscuits and bits of toast that they futility try to coerce you into eating. Chrissie doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes in the house, she never has; but now both she and John are chain smoking as they wait and periodically get up to check the test tube.

“This isn’t real,” you whimper. “This can’t be real, right? There’s no way the universe has this ironic a sense of humor.”

“Wait, something’s happening.” John waves Chrissie over to the test kit. She examines it.

“Love...” Chrissie begins, her voice tentative, her eyes glossy.

“No,” you insist. “No way, no fucking way, I don’t believe this...”

Chrissie turns the kit so you can view it, so you can see what she does reflected in the tiny mirror: a single dark ring that informs you you’re carrying Roger’s child.

[robinisaghost]

animatic ideas :0 (ramble away, i would love to hear them!!)

mk thank you for enabling me, i will now be yelling

anyway

this is gonna be so obnoxiously long i am so sorry

can you add read more's on asks? eeeekkkk because this got so damn long lmao

mild dsmp spoilers obviously

this is the playlist, by the way

-im sorry boris (wilbur soot)

i think it would work really well with mmm slightly post lmanburg niki. andby slightly i mean. well when she leaves (that is the whole thing of the song gdfjkhgsdf) also side note at like 1 minute 11 on that song theres a discord notification really subtly in the background and it makes me paranoid every time i hear it. anyway god its such a nice song. even for just like. the end of lmanburg. not necesarily paired with a character, just the sense of leaving a place that was so highly populated before it got blown up twice and was like. the main part of the smp. yeah. anyway also the lines "they'll knock down the pubs before helping you...they'll let you jump under trains before helping you" yeah those four lines have big niki vibes but also i think the song could work well with exile tommy or actually even with the finale when tubbo is about to sacrifice himself? mmmmm yeah

-this is home (cavetown)

mmmm got exile tommy vibes innit. a lot of these have exile tommy vibes tbf i just like sad songs and also exile tommy. plus the song has a lot of like. the message is sort of like. changing yourself to appeal to others? like with "ill cut my hair to make you stare" but also the repeated thing of "ill figure out a way to get us out of here" which is clearly the main character of the song trying to help everyone when they are clearly not in a good way themself. yeah thats got big tommy vibes in general tbh but more like. pre finale tommy. i think he got a bit more independant after that.

-soldier poet king (the oh hellos)

ok this is self explanatory and has been done to death already but d a m n its kinda funky. anyway i had thoughts and actually started this but then lost motivation and deleted it all lmaooo. the only proof of its existance is a shitty storyboard in my draw which will hopefully never see the light of day again (unless anyone wants to see it :eyes:) anyway i had the thought of like. sbi? so soldier techno poet wilbur and king tommy. but tbf tommy and techno are kinda interchangeable with that, cos while techno is obviously the better fighter, tommy is used a lot, especially in lmanberg era and also i think he probably will be now that wilburs back

-pyjama pants (cavetown)

ok so i honestly dont remember why this is on the playlist but tbf this could go well with a bunch of characters. thinking like. phil and wilbur? or wil and tommy, or tubbo and ranboo are two that like. i know for a fact that i did not put the song on the playlist specifically for them but god thinking about it now it works so well with them

-boys will be bugs (cavetown)

OH BOY THERES A LOT OF CAVETOWN ON HERE HUH (i feel like that probably says something about me but shhhhhh we dont need to talk about that) ANYWAY

I think this could probably work really well with tommy? because of the whole like. trying really hard to come across as not caring about others, but really being like. very vunerable. but at the same time it could go really well with wilbur for the same reasons. also the song fucks ok cant deny it. to be fair i think it works better with tommy, because he's younger and also he really likes bugs (unless i am mistaken) which is just a cool coincidence but still)

-brother (kodaline)

FUCKKKKKKKKKKK THIS WORKS SO WELL WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS AND IS ALSO ***SO ANGSTY*** WHAT

anyway

i added it because of tommy and tubbo because holy shit, but also it could work very very well with wilbur and tommy, techno and wilbur, probably techno and tommy, and oh my god i just thought of this but this would work so well with phil and techno!!!! but yeah i originally thought tommy and tubbo because i thought it was a funny coincidence with exile tommy waking up underwater, and theres a line that says "if you were drowned at sea, id give you my lungs so you could breathe" and like. just thinking about the compasses especially. me gusta.

-feel better (penelope scott)

fundy. that is all.

no ok this works well with fundy but also probably karl sapnap and quackity, and also very much wilbur, like it works well with both. just mainly fundy idk why its got big fundy vibes tho. very poggers.

-as the world caves in (matt maltese)

ok but like this goes very very well with the explosions of lamberg. either of them. i think probably the first one is better, but i think it goes well with both. probably the first one, because it was way more emotional i think? cos it was the first time that their homes had been destroyed and everything, but also because it was so personal, because wilbur was the one who did it. i think that also it would work well if it was set during the explosion but also focussed on different facets? so like. one bit about wilburs perspective, one bit about tommys, one about phils, one about fundys maybe? idk just a bunch of lmaburg citizens' povs for this. its good. as the world caves in is a song that can be so gender tbh.

-do you hear the people sing? (les mis)

obvious obvious obvious...... but like..... also tbh it goes well with a bunch of things. like, mmmmm wilbur in pogtopia. the butcher army. lmaburg independance war (obviously ghdskj) but yeah. also this song just goes so hard like b r u h

-wolf in sheeps clothing (set it off, william beckett)

SO MANY OF THESE ARE LIKE. PRETTY OBVIOUS IF YOUVE HEARD THE SONG

but yeah. it would go so well with like. well any betrayal basically. so eret, from tommys pov maybe, or about wilbur from nikis pov, or wilbur from anyone pov tbf, or quackity from charlie/purpled/foolish/sams pov, or sam from tommys pov, really it works well with so many people which says a lot about the characters tbh but shhhhhhhhhhhh

-need you here (idkhow)

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

mk mk mk mk FUNDY AND WILBUR THO

like b r u h that works so well with them

also i started this one as well but didnt like it, theres a story board in my draw as well for it because like. oh my god its such a good idea i just am shit at animating and don't have a decent enough program :')

also also

the line "daddy has to go, and that makes me sad, but daddy will always come back, he promised" fuckkkkkk that works so well with like. say for example, idk, when they're celebrating schlatts death and wilbur leaves to press the button? the sheer fucking angst of that is enough to kill any one person istg that is in fact the entire reason why i started the animatic in the first place. just that line. also all the lines sung by the child voice. fuckin angsty as hell. also ust generally a banging song, as is every idkhow song

-green (cavetown)

another cavetown song huh. ok sure.

mk so wilbur and sally and fundy. like. for a start, the imagry of a fish at the start? boom sally.

anyway the lines "you looked so good in green, i hope you're well, and you look so good with him, (schlatt ig?) and I'm proud of you still (wilburrrr and fundyyyy) i miss your perfect teeth, i was too blunt, i hope you feel happy, that's all I want"

FUCKKKK

the whole song is about missing someone you used to love and only hoping the best for them!!!! and wishing that they are happy and safe!!!!!!!!!!! and hoping they still think about you!!!!! but even if they dont its fine because all you want is for them to be happy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-achilles come down (gang of youths)

OK I THOUGHT IT COULDNT GET ANGSTIER

so like. tw suicide but thats what the entire song is about and bing bang boom i just think it works so so so so so so so well with not only exile tommy (who obviously did try to kill himself) but also wilbur in a slightly more metaphorical way? so like. his self destructive habits leading him to a point where he had no choice other than to kill himself and to take his country down with him. and its all about other characters trying to help them and persuade them not to but also near the end there is a second voice trying to persuade them to go along with it, which im thinking like. if its wilbur, either dream or maybe just himself. his own brain persuading him to continue down the path that would inevitably lead to his and his countries destruction. also it works well with schlatt for the same reasons, except he doesnt want to die. maybe (since the song is so goddamn long) like. one verse for tommy one for wilbur and one for schlatt? dead gang poggg but also like. the verses cover fairly different things which work with one character but not so much the others, for example the first verse would be tommy because its mainly about persuading the person to not kill themself (which tommy did himself but shhh) the second for schlatt because its literally about drinking and smoking away your problems, and the third for wilbur since its more of a fight between the "good" and the "bad" sides, which is obviously what wilbur was experiencing. also obviously i have a soft spot for this song because its string instruments and french, basically my favourite combination ever (also i like his voice idfk lmao)

ANYWAY THATS ALL THE SONGS ON THERE SO FAR

i literally thought of another song while i was in the shower today but i dont remember which it was but a n y w a y the playlist will most definitely be getting longer, especially since there are so many more songs that are good for this but i just havent added them yet lmao. anyway ive been writing this for like an hour gsdfjhgdhfsg but still oh my god this was fun to write

[knives-out20]

TiO - Bobby & The Buddies

Fandom: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Pairing: Bobby Brightside (OC) x Cliff Booth, StarBeep, DeepSpace,

Warnings: This is normal procedure now, Swearing, Faggotry, Gay shit idk, Homosexual tendencies, Another weird dark joke,

Notes: a ha ha...enjoy. Song used is TiO by Zayn. Dolly is an OC that belongs to my buddy, Dio.

Dedicated To: @mori-ohs​

Bobby practically put his lips against his mic, crooning into it. “I can taste it on your mouth, and I can’t leave it. You’re a freak like me- can’t you see? We can work this something out, and I’m believin’...You get off on me, it’s like cheating” he shrugged, pulling away to let Deep take control of the song he mainly wrote himself- Bobby helped with the sound of it, but the lyrics were all him.

“I, I, I, I just want to watch you when you take it off” Deep purred, eyes falling softly closed. His fingers strummed against his guitar as he saw fit, just like how he planned. “Take off all your makeup, baby, take it off-”

Bobby and Beep caught each other glanced over at Ace. “You know?” Bobby mouthed to him.

“You do too?” Beep mouthed back.

“Did I not yell ‘hypocrite’ the other day?”

“Take off all your clothes, and watch you take it off~”

“Fair” Beep mouthed, shrugging.

Bobby, Deep, and Beep sang “take if off, take it off, baby, just take it off” twice, Deep controlling the next verse.

“Push me up against the wall, don’t take it easy” Deep grabbed his mic stand, shaking his head. “You like it hard like me...it’s what you need” he scoffed, smirk just about noticeable.

“Nice song?” Peep asked, appearing by Ace.

“Let’s get naked and explore, our inner secrets. For what it is,”

Ace crossed his arms, looking down at him. “Surprising coming from you- doesn’t your brother singing like that make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s what it is.”

“I mean, duh” Peep playfully rolled his eyes. “But, you gotta suck it up. You’re in a band with family, can’t get in the way of the fact that you’re in a band, full stop.”

Ace nodded in agreement.

Peep looked up at him, wondering if he truly was unaware that the song’s main element was the fact that Deep wrote it about him.

Deep repeated the chorus, Damien taking on the next line.

AKA, “Take it off, take it off, baby just take it off.”

Bobby carried on with “take it off, take it off, just-”

“Take it off, take it off, baby just take it off- take it off, baby just take it off” Deep sang, a hint of genuine pleading in his voice. His eyes were still closed, who knows what was happening behind his eyelids?

“Ow!” Bobby exclaimed, the Buddies giggling all around him.

“He always do that?” Gene asked, appearing beside Peep.

Peep jumped, holding Ace’s arm as if he was gonna protect her.

Ace grinned.

“Uh- yea. Either to make us laugh, or if it’s part of a- of a suggestive song- like this one. It’s kinda his thing, y’know?”

Gene looked her up and down, nodding and walking off.

“God.” Peep sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Ace.”

“No worries, Peep” Ace pat her head.

Deep straightened out his fingers, trailing them slowly up his microphone stand in a suggestive manner. “I just can’t wait, to see it all- I’m so turned on.”

“And it’s all mine” Bobby purred.

“I just can’t wait, to see it all- I’m so turned on” Deep riffed ‘on’, Peep, Bobby, and Beep catching Ace’s impressed expression from behind his excessive makeup. 

Deep delivered the final chorus, the other men of the Buddies taking on vocalizations, echoes, and backing vocals. He panted silently when he finished, hearing Frankie tap his drumstick together in applaud.

Ace joined in, with actual applaud. “Sick shit, Deep!” He called.

Deep chuckled, turning to look over his shoulder. “Ah, thanks” he nodded, the attention from the others slowly leaking off of him and onto other things. “Hey, Ace, wanna hear something?”

“You know it” Ace grinned, pointing at Deep with both pointer fingers. He walked towards Deep, towering over the man because of his platformed boots.

“I went to the store to buy some condoms. When I went to the checkout, the lady asked me, do I need a paper bag? I said ‘no, I’ll just turn out the lights.’“

Ace exploded in hyena-like laughter, some of the Buddies laughing along because they overheard. He doubled over, grabbing Deep’s shoulder to help him keep steady.

Deep looked at Ace’s hand on his shoulder, blushing lightly. Slowly, he put his hand over Ace’s to ‘keep it from slipping’, if he were to get asked why. 

Ace put his other hand on Deep’s other shoulder, pushing on them to help him stand back up. “Wow, man- wow,” he panted, dumbed down to a fit of giggles. “You ‘n’ your siblings really know your shit, huh? Joke-making and lyric-writing...what more could anyone want?”

Deep got his hopes up with that, eyes going slightly wide. “Wow, I mean- I dunno. Charisma? Looks? Good in the sack?”

Ace shrugged. “If you can make someone laugh, there’s a chance that’ll be all you need.”

Deep felt his hopes reach as high up as the heavens. “Y’think so?”

“I know so. Hey, you should tell that to your brother. He tryin’ so hard to get to Starchild? Crack a joke or two, funny is sexy.”

Deep nodded obediently, “yea, sure, I’ll tell ‘im.”

“Good boy” Ace purred, patting Deep’s head and walking away.

Deep watched, same as always. Blue eyes trailing from the broad shoulders of Ace’s silly spaceman outfit, to dangerously loitering around his narrow waist.

“Snap out of it” Maria scoffed, shoving Deep.

Deep rolled his eyes. He turned around, seeing Beep talking to Starchild a way’s away from the stage.

“How’s your lil’ crushy-dushy going?” Bobby giggled, chin on Deep’s shoulder.

“‘Crushy-dushy’?”

 Bobby platonically kissed Deep’s cheek. “Uh-huh, and ‘crushy-bushy’ for Beep. I need a name as stupid as the idea that you two fell for a couple of our employers. Why can’t you be more like your sister-”

“Like I haven’t heard that enough in my life-”

“Shut up,” Bobby snickered, dragging out the ‘u’ in ‘up’. “Anyways, Derek, why can’t Benji and you be more like her, and simply be scared shitless of Gene, leaving him for Dolly to take care of?”

Deep scoffed. “Rats, my bad for falling for people using the feelings I can’t fuckin’ control. Whatever shall I do?” He dramatically apologized.

Bobby kissed his teeth, playing with the tassels on his jacket. “Steal a pair of my gogo boots-”

“You have more than one?”

“You don’t?” Bobby jokingly shot back. “Steal a pair and be closer to Ace’s height. Simple.”

“Then what?”

“Well, start playin’ this new single and start feelin’ and touchin’ and kissin’ and-”

“Okay, okay, I don’t need to hear what a usual night between you and Cliff is like” Deep teased.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“No thank you.”

“I’d shove you but clearly, I’m not the one you want pushing you against walls, eh?”

“...Touche.”

“Push me up against the wall” Bobby crooned as he turned around, smiling as he watched Ace talk to Peter. “Ace’s my favourite, but don’t tell the others that I said that. You made a good choice. Now you just gotta catch it.”

“I know that.”

Bobby turned Deep to face him. “I believe in ya, Deep. Honestly. I believe in you ‘n’ Beep almost as much as I believe in Cliff ‘n’ me. Cliff ‘n’ me, we’re eternal. I believe in us more than anyone and anything in the universe. You understand, don’t cha?”

Deep nodded. “Yea, I do. Each time I see that ring he got for ya, I do.”

Bobby waved his left hand in front of Deep’s face, remembering their first conversation about it.

Bobby hopped into the the seat behind the passenger seat of Frankie’s car. ”Onward, ho!” He exclaimed, his buddies hollering along as they drove down the street. ”What’s on the plate today, prostitutes?”

Penelope, aka Peep, leaned back in the passenger seat. ”We’re hitting the roads today, doing whatever in between, and ending it off on some good ol’ cliff jumping. Kapeesh?”

Bobby nodded obediently. ”Vague, exciting. Very fresh.” He counted heads, “where’s Maria?”

Benji, aka Beep, sucked his teeth. ”On a date. Some guy named, uh, Jim? James? Heck if I know” he shrugged.

Derek, aka Deep, sat between Beep and Bobby. ”Speaking of dates, I heard someone finally tamed the wild and chaotic Bobby D. Brightside~” he teased, nudging Bobby.

“No, no, no. Someone finally tamed Cliff goddamn Booth, that’s the feat” Beep corrected. ”The dude’s a unit, and you’re telling me he popped a nice ‘n’ shiny ring for for a scrawny motherfucker from Baltimore?”

Bobby smiled sweetly, blushing at the mere thought of Cliff..

“Aw, rats- we lost Bobby. Hey! Earth to Bobby!” Deep called, nudging him.

“Eh?”

“You were gone for a second. Got a Cliff-induced smile.”

“That happens, y’know that. You got an Ace-induced grin yourself. Like how Beep’s got a Starchild-smile.”

“Well...You’re right, but Jesus, you didn’t have to say it.”

Bobby laughed. “I know y’both mean well, I do. Just...tread lightly, alright? Love in the world of rock ‘n’ roll can prove to be dangerous at times, no matter the people involved” he sucked his teeth. “And trust me, people can do some...weird shit, for love” Bobby winced. “I happen know from experience” he added, remembering the adrenaline rush he got from the night he strangled Billie Booth, in that fateful alleyway, on the fateful night that he got away with her murder.

And to this day, not a single person knows he killed her. No one. Not Cliff, Rick, the Buddies, KISS, MJ, Dolly, Soup, Emil, Floyd, Bruce, no one. And it’s gonna stay that way.

“Don’t- Don’t fall into that weird, scary pit. Okay? Same goes for Beep” Bobby asked, pointing over at Beep and waving at him.

Deep arched a brow, but decided not to ask any questions. 

Bobby hasn’t been very secretive about his past, so anything he hasn’t told the Buddies, Deep assumed it must be something too personal.

Deep understands that. He nodded. “Got it, Bobster.”

Bobby smiled, patting Deep’s cheek. “Atta boy, Deep.”