#another point towards i simply do not fuck with romantic relationships they are a bigger headache than they are worth to me

[alpinelogy]

Every time I go buy chocolate I remember how I explicitly told my ex that I love milk chocolate and dislike dark chocolate, how he’s seen me buy myself milk chocolate as a treat, and how he still got me a very fancy dark chocolate for valentines

[evilmortys]

okay,  so,  here  are  my  thoughts  on  the  finale,

i’m  gonna  start  with  the  things  i  didn’t  like,  just  because  of  who  i  am  as  a  person!  my  feelings  are  mixed,  but...  looks  lovingly  at  evil  morty.  he  truly  was  the  only  exception  as  usual  ♥

i’m  not  going  to  lie,  this  whole  thing  felt.  rushed.  although  some  of  rick’s  meta  commentary  about  not  touching  citadel  shit  because  it  was  canon  and  he  and  morty  were  supposed  to  be  going  back  to  lighthearted  one  off  adventures,  and  “the  second  he  reveals  that  he’s  evil,  we’re  out”  made  me  laugh,  it  also  felt  very  disingenuous  and  ham-fisted.  having  him  do  all  these  fourth  wall  breaks  honestly  took  away  from  the  impact  of  what  this  episode  could  have  been,  but  whatever.  

i  just  got  the  vibe  that  they  wanted  everyone  to  stfu  about  the  citadel  and  evil  morty,  so  they  quickly  stuck  together  this  episode  that  dealt  with  fans’  demand  in  one  fell  swoop  so  they  could  move  on  from  the  existence  of  both  plotlines.  i  honestly  thought  it  was  a  bit  wasteful  since  tales  from  the  citadel  resonated  with  a  lot  of  fans  and  it  was  an  interesting  bit  of  worldbuilding  with  compelling  narratives  going  on.

you  already  all  likely  know  how  irritated  i  am  with  morty’s  character  degrading  so  much  once  again.  this  entire  season  has  been  building  him  up  to  becoming  so  much  more  capable,  only  to  wrench  it  away  from  him  again  by  instead  having  his  co-dependency  with  rick  ramped  up  to  the  point  it  was  literally  out  of  character.  this  has  come  out  of  nowhere.  at  no  point  in  the  show’s  entire  run  has  morty  ever  been  this  needy  with  rick.  

again,  i  feel  like  this  may  have  been  written  around  what  eventually  ended  up  happening  at  the  citadel,  with  the  revelation  that  mortys  are  ‘bred  for  forgiveness.’  it  would  have  been  far  more  compelling  for  our  morty  to  have  continued  to  go  down  the  path  of  being  decidedly  unforgiving  of  rick’s  bullshit,  thereby  making  him  deviate  from  the  norm  in  a  similar  way  to  evil  morty  himself  and  implicating  that  the  cycle  of  a  morty  going  to  these  extremes  is  going  to  be  repeated  once  again.

rick  did  not  deserve  or  earn  voicing  the  recognition  that  his  dynamic  with  morty  was  toxic,  and  abusive.  are  you  fucking  kidding  me?  the  smartest  man  in  the  universe  only  JUST  clocked  onto  that?  bullshit!  he’s  known  all  along,  and  he’s  been  using  it  for  his  own  gain!  he  doesn’t  get  to  just  say  it  with  that  regretful  voice  as  if  he’s  been  clueless  /  oblivious  to  it  this  entire  time.  they  just  wanted  the  audience  to  feel  sympathetic  for  him  by  throwing  in  this  tidbit  and  a  tragic  backstory,  as  if  that  even  sort  of  makes  up  for  everything  he’s  put  his  family  through.  

abandoning  the  people  you’ve  hurt  is  ALSO  abusive  and  toxic  behaviour!  he’s  done  it  time  and  time  again!  how  is  acknowledging  the  fact  that  you  hurt  people,  that  you  hurt  your  family,  the  people  that  love  you  despite  the  fact  you  objectively  don’t  deserve  it,  then  ditching  them  once  again  instead  of  staying  with  them  and  improving  as  a  person  and  helping  everyone  heal  from  what  you’ve  put  them  through,  ANY  BETTER??  he  never  changes!!

i  also  couldn’t  really  process  the  fact  that  rick  just  handed  morty  his  portal  gun  like  it  was  nothing--  i  feel  like  him  topping  it  off  and  using  it  behind  rick’s  back  should  have  been  a  bigger  deal  than  what  it  was.  also,  morty  would  not  break  a  guy  out  of  a  mental  asylum  without  a  second  thought.  he  simply  wouldn’t  do  that.

we’ve  fallen  right  back  into  the  status  quo  of  morty  being  stupid  and  rick  being  the  smartest  one  in  the  room  who  always  knows  what’s  going  on,  even  when  he  actually  shouldn’t  for  the  sake  of  a  few  meta  jokes.  which  is  more  annoying  than  i  can  put  into  words  tbqh

obviously  i  hated  all  the  parallels  they  were  attempting  to  make  between  rick  and  morty  having  a  romantic  relationship  and  “breaking  up.”  never  has  morty  behaved  so  uncharacteristically  in  any  other  episode  of  the  show.  it  honestly  felt  disrespectful  to  all  the  growth  he’s  had  as  a  character  to  reduce  him  to  something  so  pathetic.

i  guess  this  is  less  of  a  thing  i  disliked,  and  more  of  a  commentary  on  rick’s  character?  but  once  again,  his  hypocrisy  really  leapt  out  at  me  once  it  was  revealed  that  he  always  has  a  hand  in  bringing  together  beths  and  jerrys  in  order  to  ensure  that  more  mortys  will  end  up  in  the  multiverse.  i  find  it  unbelievably  sad  that  he’ll  willingly  ensnare  the  two  of  them  in  the  throes  of  a  relationship  that  he  knows  is  likely  to  become  toxic  and  cause  the  both  of  them  to  be  miserable  throughout  their  time  together;  they’re  rarely  happy  /  compatible  together  and  always  end  up  sticking  it  out  for  the  kids.  it  also  makes  his  constant  shitting  on  jerry  even  more  egregious  and  almost  serves  to  call  his  love  for  his  daughter  into  question  for  me.  he’s  using  her  as  a  means  to  his  own  ends  by  manipulating  situations  so  she’ll  meet  jerry  and  they’ll  likely  end  up  together.  

don’t  get  me  wrong,  i  actually  really  loved  the  fact  he  had  a  hand  in  founding  the  citadel  he  now  loathes  so  much,  and  i  think  the  constant  creation  of  mortys  as  grandsons  ‘bred  to  forgive’  ricks  is  so  fucked  up  and  awful  in  the  most  intriguing  way.  it’s  akin  to  him  fiddling  with  the  concept  of  keeping  mortys  in  constant  pain  to  cloak  his  comings  and  goings  around  the  multiverse  (on  paper,  morty,  on  paper!),  except  this  time  he  did  it  in  reality.

evil  morty.  oh  my  god,  evil  morty.  my  saving  grace.  my  ray  of  light.  i’m  so,  so,  so  pleased  with  the  way  he  was  handled.  while  i  admit  i  was  looking  forward  to  more  of  a  slow - burn  thing,  getting  a  bit  of  insight  into  his  presidency  and  possibly  exploring  a  dynamic  with  him  and  c-137  (we’ll  get  to  that)...  i  honestly  still  really  loved  what  ended  up  happening  with  him,  even  though  i  still  believe  on  some  level  that  they  just  wanted  to  tie  up  his  narrative  thread  so  fans  wouldn’t  remain  fixated  on  him.

of  course  he  did.  of  course  that  motherfucker  rick  created  a  boundary  within  the  infinite  multiverse  that  ensured  he’d  always  be  the  smartest  man  within  it  as  far  as  mortys  and  other  people  in  his  life  were  concerned.  i’ve  always  found  it  odd  that  such  universes  were  never  brought  up  even  in  passing;  the  nature  of  infinite  possibilities  always  dictated  that  someone  smarter  than  him  must  exist  out  there,  and  that  worlds  existed  where  he  was  nobody  special.

him  being  morally  gray.  i  could  cry.  i  was  clinging  on  to  the  hope  that  it  would  be  shown  he  hates  ricks  more  than  he  looks  down  on  mortys,  and  it  absolutely  was.  while  he  was  okay  with  killing  and  hurting  mortys  to  achieve  his  own  “selfish”  ends,  it’s  clear  that  he’s  unhappy  with  the  cycle  of  abuse  from  their  infinite  grandfathers  that  pushes  him  to  these  extremes,  loathes  the  concept  that  mortys  are  not  supposed  to  defy  their  ricks.  “if  you’ve  ever  been  sick  of  him,  you’ve  been  evil  morty  too.”  he  hates  ricks  FAR  more  than  he  does  mortys,  and  you  can  pry  that  from  my  cold,  dead  hands.  he  believes  mortys  are  beyond  help  because  of  the  way  they  stick  by  rick--  the  fact  they’re  literally  created  with  being  yes-men  for  rick  in  mind.

he  didn’t  seek  to  make  changes  for  the  greater  good  of  other  mortys  within  the  citadel.  i  think  he  understood  on  some  level,  it  was  impossible.  i  think  he  has  this  belief  that  other  mortys  are  part  of  the  problem,  because  they  perpetuate  the  cyclic  dynamic  of  toxicity  and  harm--  they  don’t  move  to  break  free  from  it  the  way  he  does,  and  so  he  feels  no  guilt  leaving  them  behind  while  he  breaks  into  the  aspect  of  the  multiverse  where  rick  has  no  power.  it’s  honestly  heartbreaking  that  he’s  come  to  have  a  mindset  like  that.  

i  think  seeing  c-137  reach  out  to  help  rick  up  once  again  instead  of  accepting  what  i  hope  and  pray  was  a  semi - genuine  offer  to  join  him  as  he  departed  was  just  yet  another  instance  of  him  witnessing  a  morty  doing  the  most  to  save  the  man  who  makes  their  lives  a  living  hell.  if  he  was  truly  unsympathetic,  he’d  have  made  no  such  offer.  if  he  thinks  a  morty  is  capable  of  pulling  away  from  the  hold  ricks  have  on  them,  he  wants  them  out  of  this  shit  just  as  much  as  he  himself  wants  to  break  free  from  it.  i  think  he  has  the  mindset  that  i  know  they  tried  to  play  it  off  with  “haha  the  other  seat’s  a  toilet,”  but  i  don’t  think  that  was  the  case  and  they  were  once  again  just  undermining  the  moment  for  no  good  reason.  SCREAMS!!  don’t  get  me  wrong  what  he  did  WAS  selfish  and  evil.  but  in  a  way  you  can  understand  where  it  derives  from

again,  it  REALLY  irritates  me  they’ve  undone  so  much  of  morty’s  character  just  to  ensure  he  wouldn’t  end  up  taking  evil  morty  up  on  his  proposition.  if  morty  had  retained  even  a  tenth  of  the  character  growth  he’s  been  having  from  late  season  four  until  towards  the  end  of  season  five,  wherein  it  began  to  unravel,  he’d  have  left  rick.  undeniably.

the  yellow  portal.  oh  my  god............

it  made  me  so  fucking  emotional  to  see  that.  he’s  won.  he’s  free.  

[mah-gah-lee]

You’re such a bitch - (Charlie Gillespie x reader)

Word Count: 2486 Request: no, again @jatpsmut​ inspired me with his fic “What Happens in Hawaii Stays in Hawaii - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (SMUT - 18+)”. I asked her if I could use the Hawaii idea and now I am writing this!

However, some details change from the original fic:

“Charlie and y/n haven't been best friends since they were kids, but from the first season of jatp. y/n is an additional actor on Julie and the Phantoms, also a dancer. Charlie didn't confess his feelings to y/n in Hawaii.

The only thing I got from the idea of @jatpsmut​ is the fact that something happened in Hawaii. So thank you to her for writing this incredible fic, without it this could not happen Summary: You and Charlie were best friends and roommates in LA. One evening, you heard it with a girl, the next morning, everything is awkward, bitchy and everything changes. Warnings: mention of sexual activities - language disclaimer: I don't know Charlie or his family personally or what his life is like. All you will read in this "x reader" is from my imagination. My point is not to invade Charlie's privacy. I don't want to offend him or offend anybody else in his life (family, potential girlfriend…). All of this is not the reality

 Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @standingtalllove​ @lukeys-giggle​ @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ if you want to be tagged in my next fic let me know ! 

--- 

You try to focus on the TV show you were watching, but obviously your roommate had company. And that company was way too loud in your opinion. You were rolling your eyes in annoyance when suddenly your phone vibrates, displaying the blonde head of your second best friend. If there was one thing you miss since you came back to live to Los Angeles, it was obviously living with this sarcastic character. Vancouver seemed so far away to you. You picked up your phone and Owen's face appeared.

 “Hi sweetie.” Owen told you with a smile “Oh, hey… Why that face?” he clearly noticed your annoyance. "Hi O." you said before complaining "Ugh, I miss living with you in Vancouver so much" "Yeah me too. We had so much fun. But hey, I'm sure we'll have a season two." "I hope so much"

You were an extra cast member on Julie and the Phantoms, you also were a dancer on the first season, just as Tori. You wished so much Owen was right about Jatp season 2 renew but Netflix seemed to enjoy making you patient. But the coronavirus had also literally messed up all your plans. However, you were angry, some series came out long after yours and got renewed while yours stayed on hold. It was clear that fans of the series as much as you were just waiting for the renewal of season two.

A moan came out of Charlie's bedroom with the sound of a bouncing mattress, you rolled your eyes again, groaning with a sort of anger.

"Jesus Christ ..." you complained "Wait, y/n, what's that sound?" “You know what I miss most about living with you in Vancouver O’? Rule #3. " “Rule #3? Rule #3" he seemed to think about what you said when he finally realized "Oh ... Oh! Rule #3! Wait.. Oh my God! Is Charlie being with a chick right now? ” He asked you with stupefaction. "Oh I wish you were wrong"

A laugh came out from you best friend mouth and you gave him a killer look through the screen, making him laugh harder. When you were in Vancouver, living with two boys forced you to set limits and rules for living. The first was; everyone cleans up their own mess. Second, the housework takes turns. Third rule: no one-night stand allowed in the flat. Surprisingly as it may seem, this rule had been followed very well by everyone. But at the same time, the boys' schedules really didn't make time to bring anyone home, and then after all, they were professional. But as soon as Charlie returned from his parents' quarantine, he forgot the existence of this rule, as if it did not apply to Los Angeles. It wasn't like he brought a different girl home every night, or even every month. It might have been the second or third time since you had moved in. But this situation embarrassed you more than you might have thought.

“Owen, don't make fun of me. I've been hearing them for about an hour now. " "Poor you. Now you understand how I felt in Hawaii" he smirked at you. "Wait, what did you say?" you asked him, in shocked. "Oh please y/n ... you heard me clearly"

Of course, you had heard what he said, but you were in shock at the revelation, so you needed confirmation. This story was supposed to be a secret between you and Charlie. The fact that Owen mentioned it could only assume two things.

"Did you hear us in Hawaii?" “I was in the room next door! Of course, I heard you. It's not like you and Charlie are the quietest couple ever having sex ... " "It seems Charlie is the loudest one…" you said, referring to your best friend having sex in the next bedroom. "Oh darling please, I can remind you of what you said that night. You two gave me nightmares." "Please don't. I feel so embarrassed right now"

Last year you went to Hawaii with several cast members and Kenny. A booking error forced you to share a bed with Charlie. It seemed that sleeping with a girl seemed more adequate than two boys sleeping in the same bed. Charlie and Owen had avoided that possibility the second the problem had arisen. One thing leading to another, after a few strong cocktails, you and the dark-haired boy had ended up having a horny night. The shame caused the next day made you both never talk about it again and "what happened in Hawaii will stay in Hawaii". You didn’t know that Owen heard you and it seems that boy can keep a secret for so long now.

The problem was that that night you realized that you felt more than an attraction to your roommate. It went beyond friendship or mere sexual tension at the sight of this Canadian. You wanted every aspect of what you might have experienced with Charlie and more: the laughs, the funny times, the lots of talking, the quiet times watching a movie or just playing Nintendo Switch, the sex. But you also wanted the PDAs, the feelings, just being with him like his girlfriend. But the actor was totally oblivious to your feelings for him, and you didn't even want to try to make him understand it on his own. You just created a shell for yourself and buried your feelings deep within yourself.

 “I don’t understand y/n. Why didn’t you tell him your feeling?” “Because I know he doesn’t love me back, O.” “Oh come on! You two are the most stubborn people I ever met!”

Again, for the third time tonight, you've rolled your eyes. You were pretty sure Charlie didn't feel the same way you did. Since Hawaii, neither of you had stepped forward towards each other, but sometimes your behaviors showed that you were more than friends. Another moan was heard from Charlie’s room and Owen's face on the screen was memorable. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were red.

"Okay, y/n. I'm sorry but I don't want to keep talking to you and hear my other best friend hooking up at the same time ..."

 You laughed and he hung up the phone not forgetting to say goodbye. You tried to focus on your screen again, your headphones being way too far away for you to catch them. Minutes later you finally heard the distinctive sound of Charlie's orgasm and knew you were finally going to be able to sleep.

 …

The next morning you woke up with a high level of fatigue. You casually walk to the kitchen to make coffee. While you were pouring yourself a cup of this much-desired black liquid, a person entered the kitchen.

 "Who the fuck are you?"

You raised an eyebrow, bringing your mug to your lips. The girl looked at you with a disgusted face.

"Roommate, darling. Not nice to meet you." "Why the hell are you wearing his shirt?"

A smirk appears on your lips, far too happy that she asked the question. When you were in Vancouver, it wasn't surprising to see you wearing the boys' t-shirts, although you had a preference for Charlie's, there were times when you wore Owen's. The boys never complained about this mania and you had to continue when you moved to Los Angeles with Charlie. The scene was pretty funny, you were there drinking your coffee in a t-shirt borrowed from your roommate while his conquest from last night stared at you in disgust, decked out in another Charlie t-shirt. You took a look at the Looney Tunes t-shirt you were wearing and just shrug your shoulders.

 “Old habits.” You simply said. "Yeah, you're gonna have to break this habit."

You laughed disdainfully. You didn't like this girl. Not because it was the conquest of your best friend for whom you had blatant romantic feelings. But rather because she had this condescension and believed that spending a night with Charlie gave her every right.

 "What makes you think that, sweetie?"

 You leaned against the kitchen counter, your posture offhand, a smirk on your lips. You weren't used to being such a bitch, but the girl in front of you pissed you off. And it was only nine in the morning.

 "Well, hello, I spent the night with Charlie." "Oh yeah sure, but that doesn't mean you're dating him." "Charlie is a great guy"

She wasn't wrong. Charlie wasn't heartbroken but he was still human and a twenty-two-year-old boy. Just looking at her you knew your best friend hadn't chosen her for a serious relationship with her. The little conversation you were having with her now confirmed that he couldn't date her. Another smirk spread across your lips as she looked at you with disdain again.

 "Who the fuck do you think you are? You are nowhere near his level" she said to you

This time, you couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. Yeah, she really pissed you off. Physically, she was everything Charlie didn't like about a potential girlfriend: big breasts, much bigger than him, slightly shallow. Oh but she had a fucking ass and maybe that was why he had chosen her. Her whole body reflected Charlie's choice for a one-night stand, but not the ideal girlfriend.

 "Oh honey, I'm nobody, but neither are you. Listen. You were just a one-night stand and me? Me, I'll still be here in his apartment with his t-shirts on when he brings you home, telling you that it was cool but that it will not go further. I will always be there ... "

Charlie woke up and headed straight for the kitchen. He greeted her conquest with a nod, giving her a hello. Instinctively, he approached you and put his hand on your waist before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. Charlie was tactile, it was his language of love. You couldn't help but smirk at the girl, giving her a victorious look. The actor looked at your outfit and a smile appeared on his lips.

 "So that's where it was! I thought I lost it in the Galapagos." he was referring to his looney tunes t-shirt

Your attention fell on Charlie and you smiled happily at him. You cheekily handed your cup of coffee.

"Coffee?" "Hell, yeah"

He grabbed your cup and took a long sip, leaving his conquest almost nonexistent to his eyes. The girl was so pissed off that she seemed to be boiling. She cleared her throat, annoyed.

 "Hmm, I'm going to go" she said. "Oh wait, let me have lunch and I'll bring you back if you want." "It won't be necessary."

You bit the tip of your tongue, amused, far too happy to hide it. Charlie's conquest returned to his room to get dressed. Your roommate turned to you and gave you a questioning look.

"y/n, what did you do?" "Nothing. We were happily getting know each other. I'm surprised at your choice, by the way" "Are you getting revenge?" "Get revenge for what?" "Since ... Hawaii, you've scared all the girls I've brought back." "Did I scare them? Stop, I haven't acted any differently than usual." “You scared them away,” he repeated. "Oh come on, Charlie, please, it's not like you're going to date them."

 He pulled away from you with a look of dismay. You were not wrong, he had never called back the girls he had brought back here, he did not intend to call back the one who was currently in his room. In fact, the only person he really wanted to spend time with was you. But since Hawaii, you seemed to be okay with never mentioning your night together again. This Canadian boy has been in love with you for months, maybe even years now. It quickly fell for you when you were in Vancouver.

"You're right. But I could have ..." he finally confessed "It's wrong. You know it's wrong Charlie, I know you, I'm your best friend. These are not the kind of girls you date. "Yeah… I couldn't date any of them. They just aren't you." He said, his last sentence ending in a whisper before hastening to take a sip from your cup of coffee.

You were paralyzed. Did he really just say what you've been dreaming of hearing for months? Did he just drop it like a bomb, in the middle of a morning conversation between sips of coffee?

“Wait, what?” “Nothing” “It wasn’t nothing, Charlie, you said something” “Nothing important” he repeats “Did you just say that if you didn’t date those girls it’s because they weren’t me?” “You seems to hear voices” “Charlie, I’m not joking… Did you say that?!” “Maybe” “Oh fuck, you’re an idiot!” “I am a..”

You snatched the cup of coffee from her hands and hurriedly put it on the counter. Never mind about the stains on the floor, you will clean up later. You didn't want to miss a second of this possibility. You wrapped your arms around Charlie's neck before resting your lips on his. Your best friend seemed surprised at first so much but quickly relaxed and wrapped his own arms around your waist as your lips moved to give the kiss more tender. The situation was most strange and funny; you were kissing your best friend, running your fingers through his long brown hair. You had to admit that even though you had found him attractive with his Luke's look but you couldn't imagine Charlie without that impressive mass of hair. Luke had short hair, Charlie had long hair. End of the discussion.

So, you were kissing your roommate, making up for lost time while in his room, a girl he had fucked the night before gathered her things. Charlie's conquest stepped out to head for the exit. You broke the kiss making Charlie growl in protest.

"I'm not showing you where the door is." you said. "whore .." the chick whispered.

Charlie stepped away from you and brought his one-night stand to the door, apologizing. He wasn't that kind of boy to go from girl to girl and the circumstances were really strange. The girl left, not without forgetting to curse him. When Charlie walks into the kitchen, you were sitting on the counter, a smirk on your face.

"You're such a bitch y/n" “It's my revenge for keeping me awake last night.” 

His gaze was sly, his smile was mischievous and you knew he was going to find a phrase worthy of the fucking boy he could be. 

"I can keep you awake for a while if you want." “A date wouldn't be too complicated, Charlie. Please be a gentleman. "You can count on me"

He gave you a softer look and you wrapped your arms around his neck again before kissing him. Ultimately, not everything that happened in Hawaii has to be restricted to Hawaii.

[oldfritz]

I'm genuinely curious and don't want to start something! Just wanted to ask what you make of the 'Old Fritz might've been asexual' take, I don't know much about him and I feel you're one of the best people to ask esp since you lean towards 'he was probably queer in some way' too

Hey there! So, first off, don’t ever worry about me interpreting you asking me a question as starting something. As much as I love making dumb jokes about the guy, I love nothing more than doing this kind of stuff and defending or explaining my points. There’s two degrees I want to get over the next decade: first my JD and then my MA in Prussian history. I live for this stuff! Always have! Second off, I’m very sorry for not getting to this sooner. Things have been incredibly stressful for me for a variety of different reasons which have made answering your question, until now, rather difficult. Putting this under a cut because, holy shit, it got long!

My personal reasoning for why I think he’s bi (which, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m assuming is what you meant instead of ace and could be a different post entirely since some historians have tried to argue that) stems more to do with some of my lingering questions about the nature of his relationships with certain woman, rather than that of his relationships with men. To me and my modern, queer eye, Fritz’s relationships with men like Hans Hermann von Katte, Francisco Algarotti, Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, and (much to my personal vexation) one Monsieur Voltaire are either outright homosexual/homoerotic in nature or very, very easily lend themselves to that interpretation rather than strictly romantic friendships (which Wikipedia does a fairly good overview of and, if you’re coming to me from AmRev perspective, uses Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship as a familiar example). While I’m avoiding those relationships in this ask, I’d be more than happy to elaborate upon one/all of them in a different one. 

Before I go into the big pauses that Fritz’s relationships with Madame von Wreech and Countess Orzelska give me, I want to deny the use of Fritz’s wife as an example of Fritz’s attraction to woman. While this, admittedly, may sound odd, we have ample evidence of how turned off and repulsed Fritz found Elisabeth Christine. Before he had even met her, Fritz was complaining about how she was ‘not very pretty, speaks but little, and acts like a blockhead’ (Asprey, 87) and, later, admitted to Grumbkow his plan to ‘keep my word,...get married, but afterwards it will be a case of that is that, and goodbye, Madame, and fare thee well’ (Jones, 52). For Christ’s sake, the man pitied her knowing how his treatment would leave her as ‘one more unhappy princess in the world’! Which is little consolation when you remember he also referred to her with such romantic terms as ‘this unpleasant creature,’ ‘the abominable object of my desires,’ ‘the person,’ and claimed to have preferred to marry ‘the biggest whore in Berlin’ (Asprey, 87). And while we (fortunately? unfortunately?) know quite a bit about their sex life, Fritz largely regarded it as just another duty - to quote him, ‘I will only have the duty to fuck’ (Ibid, 87). And while Seckendorf heard - first, presumably from Count von der Schulenburg and, later on, Count Friedrich von Wartensleben, a close and intimate friend of the then-crown prince - that Fritz would ‘fuck and refuck’ Elisabeth Christine and that said act occurred in the afternoon, it still was out of a sense of obligation (Bely, 481-2). When reminded that if he wanted more money for frivolities, he’d need to produce an heir, Fritz bemoaned that he ‘cannot sleep with my wife out of desire, and when I do sleep with her, I do it out of duty rather than inclination’ (Clark, 50). All this in accumulation, as well as the myriad of other quotes and incidents I’ve left out, makes one wonder why his relationship with Elisabeth Christine is sometimes used by historians to prove any sort of heterosexual impulse in the man when she’s the woman with the weakest supports for that argument.

That being said, now we get to the women with a more muddled places in his romantic escapades, if you will. What exactly happened between Orzelska and Fritz during his trip with his father to Dresden in 1728? The main source for everything that occurred during this trip is Wilhelmina, who didn’t attend and without anything about this specific incident coming from Fritz or Friedrich Wilhelm I, make it rather hard to use as concrete, irrefutable proof. Now, if her recollections were contemporaneous - like coming from a diary or journal she kept at the time - that would be one thing. But it comes from her memoirs which, while a delightful read 10/10 recommend, are written decades after this trip took place and, memory being a finicky thing, can’t be taken to the bank. All those disclaimers, here’s the story as told by her:

‘One evening...,the King of Poland [note: Augustus II] insensibly led the King of Prussia to a very richly decorated room...The King of Prussia, delighted with what he saw, stopped to contemplate all its beauties, when [all of] a sudden a tapestry was rolled up, which procured him a very novel sight. It was a lovely female in a state of nudity [note: Countess Orzelska, the Polish king’s daughter], carelessly reclined on a couch. Her beauty excelled that of the finest pictures of Venus and the Graces; her body seemed of ivory, whiter than snow, and better shaped than that of the Venus de Medicis at Florence.

...Scarcely had the King cast his eyes on the fair one, than he turned about with indignation; and seeing my brother behind him, he rudely pushed him out of the room, and left it immediately after in a violent irritation against the trickery they had attempted to practice on him. ...In spite of the King’s vigilance, [Frederick] had had time to contemplate the Venus of the closet, who did not cause him so much horror as she had done to his father. (Wilhelmina’s Memoirs, vol. 1, 107-6)

Wilhelmina then goes on to claim Fritz had fallen ‘passionately in love’ with Orzelska and that the illness Fritz experienced upon returning home was simply being lovesick. Pinning the accuracy of this story is incredibly difficult because, again, we have only one source relayed decades after the fact and from two volumes of memoirs known to have inaccuracies. While I, personally, would love if he had had a tryst with Orzelska (who is such a badass in her own right and deserves more recognition than as a footnote in this guy’s story), there’s no one way to say with more than 30% confidence. I am inclined to believe something along these lines happened because if someone told me a story like this, lord knows I wouldn’t forget it for the rest of my life. And, with Wilhelmina being so close with her brother, it lends a bit more credence but as to the actual emotional or physical response Fritz had to it, well, without my time machine, I can’t and don’t want to say.

With Madame Eleonore-Louise von Wreech, things are a little more concrete. For starters, Fritz actually talked about her! In written correspondence that survived! We even have seven letters between the two of them that survived, which is a bigger win! As Blanning says, they’re ‘ardent but light in tone, ironic, almost flippant, and highly stylized’ (Blanning, 58). Their relationship was known to those close with Fritz at the time that Schulenberg felt compelled to visit and warn the crown prince against devoting himself to women because ‘the slight pleasures gained cause a million displeasures.’  Fritz’s response? To tell the poor guy that he may have ‘the gift of continence, but I assure you that I do not’ (Asprey, 83-4). Firtz even went so far as to send a letter to her mother, waxing poetic about Louise’s ‘beauty, her majestic air, her bearing, and her entire department.’ It’s worth noting that Louise eventually broke off the affair due to being bored by how he ‘loved [her] too much and often annoyed [her] with his clumsy love’ (Ibid, 84). Contemporaries, including Friedrich Wilhelm, believed Fritz had impregnated her with a daughter who her ‘cuckolded husband would refuse to recognize’ (Blanning, 58). Blanning is the only source I’ve seen dispute this due to this news coming from Seckendorf, who didn’t reveal how he came about this information; that Fritz and Madame von Wreech’s correspondence doesn’t indicate a physical relationship; and on the fact that she was not pregnant. I haven’t been able to find the birth dates or any sort of records for Louise’s two daughters to figure out where their conception could’ve been in the timeline and if it matches with the likely dates for the affair, but I also don’t have the resources Cambridge would afford Blanning. Either way, while the physical nature of the affair is in dispute, the emotional aspect certainly was there. Especially when taking into consideration the fact that she’s the woman Fritz was likely referring to in the 16 August 1737 letter to Voltaire where he claimed she had taught him how to love (and also inspired him to write poetry, which we shouldn’t be thankful for). Specifically, all these years later, he stated how ‘this little miracle of nature possessed every possible charm, together with good taste and delicacy. She sought to transfer these qualities to me. I succeeded well in love but poorly in poetry. Since that time I have very often been in love and have always been a poet’ (Fritz’s Oeuvres, vol. 21, 96).

All this to say, there’s a bit too much evidence of some degree of opposite-gender attraction in Fritz to completely write off the possibility that he could’ve been bisexual. While it’s undeniable he held a preference for men and that’s whose company he typically enjoyed, I still do find it interesting the two exceptions (one potential and the other with a fair degree of certainty) to this. And, while I would never want his attraction to men be minimized in favor of that to women, it still remains important to note to get the most comprehensive picture of the man.

[fiore-rosewood9]

♫FrUk :D

Thank you for the ask, I will send a few songs that remind me of fruk, a whole playlist if you may, not only one song. I also touch a few of triggering topics as I explain the nations's personalities and relationships with one another so I apologize in advance if I upset/trigger someone and will put my trigger here - Warning - mentions of abuse, alcoholism, s*exual trauma. Under the explanation there is a playlist of songs that make me think of Ukfr/Fruk, so if anyone gets upset you can feel free to skip my general headcanons about fruk/ukfr relationship dynamics. There are too many songs that make me think of different characters or ships but I collected the ones that make me think the most of them.

I know the original song is by Lady gaga but this version is too sweet and cheesy for me so I chose the rock cover by the group Halestorm since I prefer it, it sounds more genuine and rough and kinda makes me think of the dynamic that ukfr/fruk has, that some people present is as just the enemies to lovers trope or them just fighting which is.....simply unhealthy????? Fruk is much more than that and I wish people would stop seeing it as a two dimensional thing, yeah they do argue on a lot of things and it is not the healthiest dynamic however it does work in my mind because they stick through thin and thick and that requires effort and true love since a lot of people nowdays do not take time to know the other person, they just jump into marriage and have a few divorces and just argue over everything and then separate, fruk is an off and on thing where they break and make. This kind of dedication is hard to find in today's couples. I know they're fictional characters and no one really cares but I practice my psychology skills and my knowledge of people around me, and I sometimes see people with similar or almost the same characters as fictional characters, they may not have all of their hobbies but they do act the same way. And certain pairs, no offence, just make me want to gag my self due to history with bad and toxic fans but if I look at it subjectivly and never encountered mean fans from a certain ship, I would say that they ship simply doesn't work. No ship bashing but as far as I know, people with this kind of personality from this ship that I dislike, and get upset when seeing fan art of, simply just do not get along and had a hard time divorcing, it is not only unhealthy and unbalanced, it is downright abusive because both partners seek control and to have the upper hand and this is not...what romance is about???? It is about two people taking care of each other, understanding personal space and boundaries, lifting each other up and yeah, they will argue a lot, sometimes for small things, sometimes for bigger things, but generally the point of romantic relationships is not someone using you, or abusing you financially and generally being better or bigger than you. This breeds insecurity and jealousy in the other partner and makes them feel inadequate. Usually such problems are not talked over and one of the partners acts passive agressive which is what ultimaltly leads to said divorce. So yeah, people can go away with their (BUT IT IS CUTE, IT IS SO FUCKING CUTE) pairing because real life pairings and how humans communicate and develop friendships and relationships isn't based on what your mind conciders and doesn't concider cute and there are lots of factors on whether relationship will ever happen like common interests, type personality, etc and just block me so I will never hear from them and their childish mindset ever again, which is why I blocked certain tumbrl fan art hetalia accounts who produce art of a pairing I (dislike) lowkey hate, for historical reasons, for manga reasons, for toxic fans who bullied me and made me go on 3 hiatuses reason and ultimatly in real life experience and psychology and how humans and the human mind works and what is healthy and unhealthy reason. Why should I support something where certain people have been hateful towards me and these same people that act like these characters and I know in my life are on bad terms in real life? Why shouldn't I just move on to something more realistic and more healthy, that I have seen that works with humans I know first hand? I am not a clinical psychologist and I have no power or saying in this but I had to write thesis and read books by psycholgists and analyze them in high school and my first year of Uni, in order to pass the year and I have also read reccomended books by a psychologist I went to because I wanted an advice on how to deal with my anxiety and talking to people, because my condition is extremely severe but I honestly feel stuck and try to improve but also feel confused, I sometimes feel like I am not doing enough to

self improve as a human. I sometimes come off as too cold or overly bitter and angry without intending to, and it sucks.

Francis is a really manipulative person and Matthew picked up that from him while part of Alfred's agression doesn't only come from confidence in his own abilities but the fact that England him self is an overly agressive person and is very dominant or at least used to be for a very long time, now he is more mild to keep his gentleman persona but he does suffer from severe anger issues which he hides while Alfred is prone to breaking things and screaming, Arthur is more prone to being rude, sarcastic and generally mean before he loses it. Matthew and Francis do not engage in fight if they can avoid it which is why sometimes people call them cowardly I think? And Matthew is a bit prone to being a codependent people pleaser as far as I see and he seems to have severe anxiety issues. Francis albeit charismatic and beautiful, is deep down in his core lonely.

I think that part of his pervertedness, shocking people with his s*xual humour and all of this sex obsession comes from trauma in his childhood and dressing like a girl. I wouldn't explain what the trauma in question was since it is not canon but I do headcanon that he had s*xual trauma and it is partly why Hungary dressed like a guy. I don't know if this is legit, it is bias from reading too much japanese fan comics relating to hetalia or just general history of humans and how they treated consent and what is moral today, wasn't amoral or against the law a few centuries ago, but I have seen artists touch on it. I think both Arthur and Francis suffer from neglect and they weren't particularly good fathers, in fact no country is, the whole FACE family is dysfunctional and while I love all of them, I kinda pity them. I think Rome was a bit discriminatory mostly towards France and never towards his other children while Arthur had to constantly prove him self and was bullied by his brothers. While other nations have suffered from trauma too (I headcanon that Prussia was burnt on stake and people threw rocks at him due to his albinism and being left handed) something similar happened to Arthur, who I headcanon that he was burnt for being a witch and Francis went a few times through the guillotine, or Arthur still having a bullet scar on his arm from the American revolution or Francis having nightmares from that day where Jeanne was burnt and waking up in his own sweat. Arthur also must suffer from workholism and alcoholism, judging by how much he works and goes to pubs to drink. Everyone chooses their own poison and how to cope with life and many use unhealthy coping mechanisms, hell, even I used unhealthy coping mechanisms a lot in the past and I am not proud of them, in fact, I try to improve.

I can talk about their history and how it relates to their mental health and what scars they have for hours but I would bore you. You came for a song and I am probably boring you so I apologize for writting a lot of words, in advance. I basically think that fruk/ukfr is the ultimate ship for many reasons because they click, I do ship spuk/engita/asakiku and many other things but fruk/ukfr is kinda like butter and bread, it is a great combination. I never said it is 100 percent healthy, however their relationship makes psychological sense and their personalities click. I know people like to present arthur as this dumb tsundere man that blushes and says baka, or he is this garbage rat dad that no one likes or francis is presented or at least used to be this perverted sex machine that touched other countries inappropriatly or at least the 2012-2015 fans saw him this way and while he still has the reputation of a pervert, what many young people in the fandom see as disgusting, I just see as an overly lonely man that just happens to have high libido and copes with it by having casual sex and just has a sex humour, the same way some people have fart jokes humour or darker, more cursed humour, I am really glad that fans mostly left off this whole - Francis is a r**ist and will grope you, in the past, because honestly r**e is not joke and as a character he clearly understands consent and boundaries and I don't think someone like him would do such a thing. Also Greece and Turkey have even higher libido than him and sleep around more, yet he is the ''pervert'', I don't get it??????????? but fruk is just so much more than opposites attract, they have a lot in common so I can't say they're full opposites, no one is truly. I have heard people ask why does anyone ship fruk when it is just opposites attract/enemies to lovers trope and I am honestly confused, because that is extremely rough generalization to say the least, it is like saying - All men/women are the same, it is simply wrong/uncorrect. I think they ''married'' five times - The Treaty of Paris (1657) formed an alliance against Spain. The Anglo-French Alliance (1716–31) formed another alliance against Spain. The Anglo-French blockade of the Río de la Plata (1845-1850). The Anglo-French joint invasion of Qing Dynasty (1856–1860). And the last one which is their official marriage The Entente Cordiale (1904) fought together in both World Wars. As far as I remember Francis tried to marry Arthur but he refused and why he refused is up for subjective opinion but I must write a whole thesis on why Fruk/ukfr works so well and people are not here for that, they're here for the music and I will provide. I also always saw Francis as the more gentle and more submissive partner, I just love to see him drawn in frilly beautiful dresses with bows and stuff and Arthur as the more dominant, I mean as a country he was a powerhouse during the 1600s-1800s and used to be a punkrocker, usually rockers are mentally tough and that man is extremely cunning and witty so...people drawing him as this useless baka uwu overly feminine anorexic boy that looks more like a tween rather than a 23 year old guy just assasinated his character in my opinion and it disturbs me but I am just some awkward human on the internet and no one values my opinion anyway because this is the internet and many people nowdays love to have hot takes and try to gain followers through clickbait stuff which sometimes goes out of control and everything just seems more fake and shallow to me, the more old I get.Okay that was my silly rant no one asked about but I feel really passionate about hetalia and Fruk/Ukfr. Anyway, I apologize again for my long rant and going all over the place, please enjoy this playlist

PLAYLIST WITH SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF FRUK/UKFR

1 - Halestorm - Bad romance - rock cover https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ll4NJs3NBIU

2 - Queen - Somebody to love - lyrics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zj69iA_goIk

3 - ABBA - Voulez vous - (I know everyone chooses Waterloo and while waterloo is a fruk theme, I think Voulez vous works too) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwcgMVXuBJc

4 - London beat - I've been thinking about you - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixBryyQSrD8

5 - Santana - Smooth - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Whgn_iE5uc

6 - George Michael - Careless whisper - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izGwDsrQ1eQ

7 - Robbie Williams - Feel - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iy4mXZN1Zzk

8 - Michael Buble - Feeling good - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI

9 - Edith Piaf - La vie en rose - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFzViYkZAz4

10 - Chopin - Marriage d'amour (Spring waltz) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFJ7kDva7JE

11 - Vanessa Carlton - A thousand miles - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERw2LuU6Jj8

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Twelve (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

AN: I can't even lie, the support on the last chapter and about this fic coming back made me so so incredibly happy. If you're still here and reading and leaving reviews, THANK you, I love hearing your thoughts and reactions and it honestly is why this chapter came pretty speedily. Enjoy and tell me your thoughts! Thank you writ for betaing <3

“How on earth are there seven thousand people watching this Instagram live? They got nothing better to do than talk to our sweaty asses?”

Monique’s eyebrows push together in disbelief as she looks at Vanessa’s phone screen, her eyes scanning the comments and it makes Vanessa snort, turning the camera towards her.

“It was your idea. I was perfectly content catching my breath and drinking some water now that class is done, or maybe, y’know, taking a shower,” Vanessa quips, her eyes flitting across the screen as she watches the comments fly by at light speed. “But you wanted to say hi to your ‘fans.’”

“They love me,” Monique tosses her braids over her shoulder, batting her eyes at the screen. “Right, guys?”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” Monet drops down beside Monique on the ground, popping her head in front of the screen. “I’m the one that everyone loves. I mean, how can you not?”

“Very easily.” Monique’s deadpan expression makes Vanessa burst into laughter, shaking her head.

“Y’all are nuts, I swear.”

It’s still strange to Vanessa, the way that this is her new normal. The fact that she can open Instagram and start a live and have an audience, the fact that she can post a picture and have famous people showering her with comments. It’s as if her world has tilted, little slivers of light that are shining upon new opportunities she would have otherwise never been able to see.

Like the fact that Detox has inked her a deal with fucking Fenty Beauty, of all companies, as a brand ambassador and now she has a shoot next week and Rihanna, Rihanna, knows who she is.

Rihanna.

It still doesn’t feel real. Hell, maybe Vanessa actually had hit her head real hard during her last match and the whole period since has simply been vivid dreams while she’s in a coma at this very second. Maybe that’s a more likely scenario.

“Hold up, pass me the phone, I got something to say,” Asia holds out her hands, wiggling her fingers, and Monique sticks out her tongue, handing the phone to her.

“You better be quick. I was having fun with the filters.”

Monet scoffs, nudging Monique’s shoulder as she looks over at Vanessa. “Forget about the filters for a sec. Where are we thinking for dinner? That’s the more important thing to focus on.”

Monique pauses. “Well, see, while I’m a fan of that burrito place we went to last week, it did give me major gas, and I don’t wanna smell up any subway cars on the ride home-”

“Nasty- ”

“There’s a such thing as too much information when the people on Instagram live can overhear you, doofus-”

“As I was saying,” Monique continues, her voice a little louder, “I’m down for some Korean food, maybe. Thoughts?”

Vanessa giggles as Monet shakes her head at Monique, who looks entirely nonplussed. “I’m good with Korean.”

As much as things have changed, from the brand deals and the sponsorships and the people on the street who do a double take when they recognize her, Vanessa’s glad that one thing hasn’t. Her friendships.

She’s not sure how she’d take it if Monet and Monique and Asia started to treat her differently, if maybe they’d think she was a sellout or hate her for having a meme that she has no control over. Her friends don’t pretend as if the whole thing hasn’t happened, either, which she’s sure would feel worse. Instead, they roll with everything, getting excited when Vanessa brings them free sponsored items that show up in her mailbox or scrolling through her Instagram comments and screenshotting the hilarious ones. It’s as if they’re all going through it together instead of just her, and honestly, it feels kind of nice.

The Korean restaurant three blocks away from the gym is one that they’ve frequented quite a bit over their weekly dinners, the booths cozy and a perfect bubble for the gossip they can’t necessarily have while in front of a punching bag. And sure, their last few dinners have revolved around Vanessa’s random celebrity encounters on social media, but today the spotlight is on Asia. Or rather, the grumpy manner in which she’s eating her gimbap.

“I said, there’s nothing wrong. I’d tell you if there was,” Asia mutters, shoving a bite into her mouth.

Vanessa exchanges a look with Monet and Monique. Asia’s the queen of denial, the one who draws attention to problems precisely by trying and failing to hide them. When Asia says that nothing’s wrong, she’s fibbing. Majorly.

“You wouldn’t tell us, you’d stew about it like you are now. So, there’s something wrong. Checkmate,” Monique raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa can’t help but turn towards Asia and nod because hey, Monique’s right.

Asia, though, sulks. “No, there isn’t.”

“Asia. Just tell us!” Monet waves her chopsticks in Asia’s face, who wrinkles her nose. “Did we do anything?”

“No, no, not you guys,” Asia sighs, sinking down lower in her seat. “Not you. You know I’d be quick to beef with y’all if you did something wrong.”

Monique nods. “She’s got a point.”

“Then what? Is it Kameron?” Vanessa asks, and Asia’s expression change is immediate, the way her eyes dart a telltale sign that Vanessa’s hit the nail on the head.

“What’d she do? Do we need to fight her? Though, to be fair, not sure if any of us could fight her. Bitch is ripped,” Monique takes a sip of her drink before she can dig herself in a bigger hole, and it makes Vanessa snort.

“That’s the thing, she didn’t do anything,” Asia scowls, as she grabs another bite. “Nothing at all.”

“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?” Monet’s eyebrows furrow and Vanessa’s sure that she’s making the exact same expression, too.

“Yeah, what’s nothing?”

“Exactly nothing!” Asia huffs. “It’s been months of us just smacking and that’s all we do, aside from talking about the weather or maybe about Bachelor in Paradise ‘cause she watches that too, but...nothing. We haven’t even been on a date or anything. Nothing!”

“Oooh… ” The way Monique’s realization trails off is comical, and Vanessa has to press her lips together to keep from breaking into a laugh because she does feel for Asia, she really does.

Vanessa’s seen her and Kameron come out from the change rooms or from behind one of the punching bags more than once, the two of them looking ruffled from their little makeout sessions. And sure, Vanessa’s thought that the two of them had more going on. At least, more than what she’s seen with her own two eyes.

But evidently not.

“So you’re waiting for her to make the first move?” Monet gives Asia a look. “C’mon, girl. If you want to date her, then ask her out yourself. Stop waiting around if you want more.”

Monique leans forward. “Yeah, what’s that saying? Follow your destiny?”

“Never heard of any saying like that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Vanessa clears her throat, trying to shoot Asia a reassuring look. “I think the point that these two are trying to make is that Kameron’s definitely into you, too. She wouldn’t be sticking around if she wasn’t. So what’s the worst that can happen if you ask her out? Maybe she’s shy, or something. Wants you to make the first move.”

Asia scoffs. “Shy? That bitch never stops talking once she starts. I swear, that quietness is totally a facade.”

“There you go,” Vanessa nods, smiling. “See? You know her enough that she’s comfortable around you to loosen up.”

“Doesn’t mean I can ask her out,” Asia mutters, letting out a sigh. “What if she says no? What if all she wants is just this casual not-even-a relationship? What if this is the most I’m gonna get without her running for the hills?”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Monet counters. “Hey, anyone who can swap spit with you for months on end has gotta be into it, right?”

“Nasty. Truly nasty,” Asia grumbles, but her posture is less slouched, less defeated. A little more hopeful.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to feel like she’s using her position of power over you, being a coach, and that’s why she’s letting you take the reins,” Monique ponders, as she lifts up a bite of noodles. “So that she doesn’t feel like she’s pressuring you into saying yes.”

“She really wouldn’t have to pressure Asia at all, she’s jumping at a chance to...” Monet trails off when Asia shoots her a narrow-eyed glare. “Sorry.”

Vanessa reaches out to pat Asia’s shoulder because she feels for her, she really does. “You have two choices, really. You either gotta be happy with this current situation you two have going on with all the smacking and breath mints, or you gotta be willing to take a risk for a higher reward. For a chance of more with her. Though it is a huge risk to take-”

Monet winces. “Vanj, ending on that is not encouraging-”

“-look what you can get out of it,” Vanessa finishes, leaning forward in her seat. “Are you really going to be happy with the absolute bare minimum that you’re getting with Kameron? Is it the way you want things to stay? ‘Cause it seems like Kameron is fine with it.”

“Alright there, Doctor Phil,” Asia grumbles, resting her cheek against her hand, “maybe I’ll talk to her. Maybe, though. I don’t do talking.”

“Tell that to my eardrums who had to listen to you complain about your leggings for twenty minutes straight in the change room yesterday,” Monique mutters, before letting out a squeal when Asia kicks her under the table. ” Ow !”

Asia does look lighter, though, as they head out of the restaurant and towards the subway, a spring in her step that definitely had not been there during dinner. Vanessa just hopes that it’s enough, that Kameron’s feeling the same and maybe Asia’s springboard won’t break from under her anytime soon.

It’s one thing to put yourself on the line, but to risk it all? Vanessa’s a romantic and all that, but she’s not sure that she’d be able to go through with something like that herself if it all went sour.

Brooke’s not really sure of what to make of the way that Kameron’s pacing in front of her closet, to the point where she’s about to wear a hole into the floor. That being said, it is fairly entertaining to watch.

“Y’know you haven’t even looked in your closet yet, right? Aren’t you supposed to be picking an outfit to wear for your d-”

“Don’t even finish that word,” Kameron bites out, holding up a finger and Brooke snorts before taking a sip of her water. “What am I even doing?”

“You’re going out with-”

“Ugh,” Kameron sighs, flopping down on her bed beside Brooke. “This isn’t going to end well, is it?”

Brooke turns on her side, facing Kameron. “Not if you keep dithering like this. You’re putting my anxious self to shame.”

Brooke gets it, though. The way that Kameron’s leg is bouncing and the way she’s unable to keep still are both sure signs that her mind is running at a hundred miles an hour. Considering what Kameron’s about to do this evening, Brooke can’t blame her.

“What if I can’t come up with anything to talk about? What if we just sit there awkwardly and twiddle our thumbs for an hour?” Kameron covers her face with her hands, letting out a groan.

“Is what why you only make out with her in a closet like two teenagers?”

“Shut up.”

“You gotta learn how to have big girl conversations sometime or the other, Kam.” Brooke pats Kameron’s shoulder. “You can talk to me just fine. You can talk to Asia too.”

“But you’re just you. Asia is… Asia,” Kameron mumbles, her voice uncharacteristically soft, and Brooke can’t help but let out a snort.

“Thanks for that non-compliment. Very sweet.”

“You know what I mean,” Kameron sighs. “What if she won’t like me when she gets to know me?”

“You’re a catch. Definitely not my kind of catch, but someone’s kind of catch. Maybe Asia’s,” Brooke dodges before Kameron can whap her with a pillow, grinning when she misses. “Besides, Asia already knows you. You two bicker throughout classes and definitely had things to talk about when driving back from the last tournament. Or was that arguing for the entire drive about the appropriate speed limit on the highway? I can’t remember.”

“You’re terrible at pep talks,” Kameron grumbles, rolling onto her back.

“But you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Regardless,” Brooke announces, rolling off the bed and grabbing Kameron’s hands to pull her up, too, “we need to pick out an outfit for you. Can’t have you dazzling your star student and date for tonight in your current wine stained joggers. Unless Asia’s into that.”

Brooke gets Kameron into jeans and a tank that shows off her arms and tattoos and Kameron begins to perk up a little at least, looking at herself in the mirror, as Brooke presses an eyeliner pen into her hand.

“Go on. Do your makeup.”

“Do you think she’ll-”

“Yes she’ll find it hot, no you can’t make out with her instead of going on the date. It’ll mess up your lipstick.” Brooke leans back on her hands as she watches Kameron from the bed.

It makes Brooke think, though, as Kameron tousles her hair and slips on a leather jacket and stands a little taller. The fact that Kameron is going on a date with Asia. It’s no secret that the coaches at Brooke’s gym sometimes hook up with the students, despite the fact that it makes Brooke’s nose wrinkle sometimes. It’s relatively harmless, never turning into anything too dramatic. Kameron’s had her own share of them, but this feels...different.

Maybe because Kameron actually cares about impressing Asia, past just the shallow looks and first impressions. She likes Asia and wants Asia to like her too, for more than someone who holds a punching bag for her. Kameron’s toeing the line with Asia from something casual towards something that could be more, and to Brooke, the drop feels real high.

It’s not like they have that much to risk, not really. Sure, a shitty date could make classes awkward for the two of them, though no harm done in the long term. But then why is Brooke’s heart turning over in her chest at the mere idea of it?

She doesn’t know. But she’s going to make her friend look good for her date, that’s for damn sure.

“What shoes?” Kameron holds up a pair of boots in each hand, and Brooke squints as she looks between the two of them.

“The docs.”

“Not too stereotypical?”

Brooke grins. “Way stereotypical. But Asia’s going to eat it up.”

She feels like a mom helping her daughter get ready for her first date. Considering how few dates Kameron has actually been on, how little she takes the leap to get to know people past a shallow level, it somehow feels appropriate.

The sun is beginning to set as Brooke leaves Kameron’s apartment, painting pinks and purples that cast an iridescent glow along the buildings and reflect off of her watch. It’s her second favourite time of the day after sunrise - instead of charging her batteries the way that the oranges and yellows of the morning do, the sunset calms her system, slowing down the thoughts in her brain that go just a little too fast for her liking.

Her phone buzzes when she’s waiting at an intersection, and Vanessa’s name on her screen makes her face break into a smile without her even noticing at first. Maybe it’s just the way that Vanessa’s always so funny, never failing to make Brooke laugh with whatever she comes up with over text.

Vanessa: alert alert Asia is going out with Kam tonight!!!!! Monique and I wanna follow them and see where they go but Monet won’t let us lol

Brooke: LOL. That’s probably for the best. Let the two of them figure it out on their own, y’know?

Vanessa: boooo but that’s boring

Vanessa: Asia said they were going to play something called lob???

Vanessa: tf is that do u know

Vanessa: cuz I thought lob was a haircut

Brooke: Picture mini golf but with small balls that you throw. And without the golf clubs.

Vanessa: haha small balls

Brooke: Really?

Vanessa: IT’S FUNNY

Brooke: It’s a fun game. Went there once some years back and honestly, it feels harder than mini golf. Not that I was good at mini golf.

Vanessa: ok but I’m good at mini golf, does this mean i’d school ur ass if we played

Brooke: Well we’d have to find out and see, wouldn’t we?

Brooke watches the clock at the top of her screen pass by one minute, then another, and Vanessa hasn’t replied, wait, did Brooke say anything wrong? She reads their conversation through again and when her eyes hit the last text…

Wait.

No, it doesn’t sound like she’s asking Vanessa out. Because she’s not trying to. Vanessa’s not, they’re not…

Unless Vanessa’s taking it that way and wants to run for the hills and never speak to Brooke again-

Vanessa: ok lets square up then punk

Phew.

Brooke: Did you just call me a punk?

Vanessa: and what about it??

Brooke: That’s extra burpees for you next practice.

Vanessa: playing dirty!!

Brooke lets out a laugh but it’s more of a shaky exhale than anything else, running a hand through her hair as she walks past the front desk of her apartment building and pushes the button for the elevator. Getting into the elevator alone is a blessing, a chance for her to lean her head back against the mirrors and close her eyes for a second, trying to ignore the way her heart is beating in her chest.

It’s not that she hasn’t thought about it. Brooke has eyes, Vanessa’s beautiful but also now such a good friend but she’s also her student and they’re not like that, they’re not and Brooke doesn’t do relationships-

Ding.

The doors open and it’s almost a relief, in a way, because for a second Brooke gets to pretend that she can leave her worries in the elevator and not bring them into her apartment. But they sweep up on her shore as she unlocks the door, the way they always do when she wants to avoid thinking about something.

Maybe Brooke’s just in her head. Maybe Vanessa hadn’t noticed how her text could have sounded suggestive at all, hell, maybe Vanessa had just been in the bathroom or something and that’s why she hadn’t answered Brooke’s text right away. There’s a million different ways to interpret what had happened, and Brooke’s just working herself up at this point. She knows that.

Problem is, her brain doesn’t always listen.

Yvie’s frowning at a pineapple at the kitchen island when Brooke hangs up her coat and walks into their apartment.

“Not going so well?” Brooke raises an eyebrow at the bent knife in Yvie’s hand and the still-intact pineapple.

Yvie scratches her head. “I really should have just bought the pre-chopped pineapple. But all that wasted packaging, y’know? Figured this was better for the environment.”

“Not for the knife, though.”

“Sadly,” Yvie sighs, letting the knife roll onto the cutting board with a clatter. “I think there’s another one in the utensil drawer somewhere. I’m gonna try again.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you look up a tutorial first or something? Maybe there’s an easy way to do it.”

“And ruin the surprise and excitement? Nah,” Yvie shrugs, before grinning. “I’m gonna defeat this pineapple on my own.”

“Have fun with that. And let me know when you’re done so I can have some, too,” Brooke snorts, sitting down on one of the stools at the counter.

Yvie lets out a woo when she pulls another knife out of the drawer, waving it around. “Found it! Nice.”

Brooke leans back on her stool even though Yvie is a good six feet away, because she also remembers the time Yvie accidentally threw a pair of scissors across the room while animatedly telling a story complete with hand gestures. “Careful, Yves.”

“You’re fine. The pineapple is the only one getting murdered tonight.”

“Comforting.”

“Anyways,” Yvie starts, twirling the knife in her hands before lodging it in the side of the pineapple, letting out a curse under her breath. “Is Kameron ready for her date? Did you lend your fashion expertise and all that?”

Brooke shrugs. “Kameron has that part under control. She needed more cheerleading than anything else to actually get herself on the date without clamming up. You know how she gets sometimes.”

Yvie snickers as she yanks the knife back out of the pineapple. “You mean her complete lack of game whatsoever?”

“Yvie!” Brooke admonishes, rolling her eyes when Yvie grins. “I think she’ll be fine with this girl, though. From their constant bickering, they have enough chemistry to warm even Kam up a little bit.”

“Aww. I remember that stage,” Yvie’s face is almost nostalgic, her bottom lip pushing out. “Scarlet and I would always clash in class. Of course, I still found her hot when she was being stupid, but that’s beside the point.”

“And now the only thing you two argue about is about who’s going to hang up first.”

As nauseating as the two of them are, Brooke has to admit that Yvie and Scarlet are kind of cute. The way that they’re making it work despite the fact that they live far away from one another is sweet, as ‘temporary’ as Yvie says their distance is.

“God, I love that bitch,” Yvie’s eyes are almost dreamy, a jarring sight when combined with the knife she’s dangling from her grip. “Speaking of love, what’s the situation with your new lady like? Miss internet sensation herself?”

“What?” Brooke yelps, and the heat that floods to her cheeks is annoying, because from the smug grin on Yvie’s face, she definitely notices. “She’s not my lady. Jeez. I train her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Because that’s what the cuddling on the couch during Chicken Little night looked like. Completely.” Yvie’s look is knowing, too knowing, and it makes Brooke want to fold in on herself, sink under the counter.

“It’s not like that,” Brooke mutters, reaching a hand out for one of the pineapple cubes that Yvie’s successfully chopped and throwing it into her mouth, because it gives her more time to think of something to say.

It’s not. They’re not together, they’re not flirting for Pete’s sake, they’re...they’re Brooke and Vanessa. A washed up coach and an athlete with enough potential and talent and drive to have already made a splash on the boxing world without any professional fights under her belt. Vanessa’s special, more than she knows, and Brooke wants to be the one to nurture that and have a front row seat to her greatness. She’s more than a random person to flirt with and then ghost, she’s more than a sham of a relationship. She’s permanent. At least, Brooke wants her to be.

Desperately.

And not losing Vanessa in the future means that Brooke has to avoid doing anything to ruin whatever it is that they have between them.

“Okay. Tell that to the way you guys were snuggled together like two little puppies or something. It was kind of adorable.” Yvie pops a cube of pineapple into her own mouth, throwing another towards Brooke.

“We weren’t snuggled together,” Brooke mumbles as she chews the pineapple, shrugging when Yvie scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What?”

“So what was it, then? Huddling for warmth? In an apartment with a broken AC that’s always warm, anyway?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Yves,” Brooke lifts up her hands in surrender. “She’s my student. We’re not doing anything.”

“Y’know what I think? I think you don’t know what to tell yourself. And that’s why you’re avoiding thinking about it,” Yvie says, holding up another cube. “Want some more?”

“Don’t you have to go Facetime Scarlet or something instead of pressing me about Vanessa? God,” Brooke grumbles. “Yes to the pineapple, by the way.”

Yvie snickers as she grabs a bowl, filling it with a handful of cubes. “You’re grumpy when you’re forced to confront your feelings.”

“There are no feelings.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Denial may be a river in Egypt, but it’s also very entertaining on you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brooke groans, resting her cheek on her palm with her elbow against the counter. “Now go have phone sex with your girlfriend while I get my earplugs out.”

“And I’ll enjoy it, thank you very much,” Yvie singsongs as she waltzes into her bedroom, kicking the door closed and leaving Brooke alone in the kitchen.

She’s sure about what she’s said to Yvie. There are no feelings. Well, friendship feelings, and feelings of caring for Vanessa as a person because she’s pretty damn great and a wonderful person, but...not those kinds of feelings.

Brooke doesn’t do those kinds of feelings. Not when they end the way so many other things do, not when relationships don’t ever last the way that they promise to. Brooke doesn’t need her time with Vanessa to end anytime soon.

Besides, platonic cuddling is a thing. Brooke has snuggled up against Kameron’s bicep more than once during their athlete days on the drives to tournaments. Not that it was ever that comfortable back then, but hey, maybe Asia will like it now.

Maybe she and Vanessa can go play lob at the bar one day at the bar that Kameron’s taken Asia to - not as a romantic thing, because they’re not like that, they’re not, but because Vanessa’s competitive streak is adorable. Something that Brooke loves to see but also something that pushes Vanessa to be a great athlete and is almost mesmerizing to watch.

So, yeah. Lob as friends.

Brooke’s going to emphasize the ‘friends’ part when she asks Vanessa. More to calm herself down about it, than anything else.

[wangxiandecoded]

Episode 12

Previous Episode | Next Episode

(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

Even when Wen Chao asks for their swords, Wei Ying is trying desperately to make Lan Zhan look him in the eye to telepathically understand what his soulmate is feeling. Lan Zhan hates it but he has no choice but to cooperate with the enemy. He has withdrawn to himself after the multiple losses he’s faced and being a puppet at the hands of the Wens must be rattling him some more. Even if he wanted to tell Wei Ying everything that’s on his mind, he wouldn’t have been able to find the words to. 

Lucky for him, Wei Ying has an inkling that his Lan Zhan has faced an inexplicable disaster and that’s why he’s behaving this way with him. He knows it doesn’t mean he should stop reaching out. His concern for him leads him to repeatedly seek Lan Zhan’s face, looking for anything that might suggest how he can alleviate his plight.

One of the perks of having Wei Wuxian as your boyfriend is that he was born ready to make a clown out of the most dastardly villains.

Wei Ying Says “Fuck You” In The Name Of Love

Wei Ying has a brilliant idea to talk to Lan Zhan or at least let him know he is not alone.

There is something powerfully impressive and quietly romantic about Wei Ying insulting the Wen clan by reciting the Lan clan’s rules to Wen Chao’s face, on the heels of the former decimating and annexing the latter. Of course Wei Ying is the first one in a room to stand up to a bully and protect the others but Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan’s hands are tied right now, even if he doesn’t know what exactly happened. But that’s okay, because Wei Ying will defend his honor and become Lan Zhan’s hands, his mouth, his everything that delivers the unmistakable “fuck you” on behalf of his family. And he does it in an act of rebellion that originates in the sanctum of love. Understandably, Lan Zhan falls more in love with him.

Wei Ying’s Plan Misfires 

His happiness is short-lived, but honestly who could predict his plan would go like this?

We see that Lan Zhan does want to confide in his soulmate the pain and pressure he’s been dealing with alone the whole time, but it’s too dangerous for them to talk right now. 

Wen Chao carries the same kind of smugness as a prick who’s been waiting to out a gay couple. I mean how awful do you have to be to physically abuse Wangxian for.. being Wangxian? Blatant homophobia right there.

Wei Ying has had enough of Wen Chao’s bullshit and is unafraid to clap back with his signature cheekiness.

When Wei Ying is captured, Lan Zhan blocks the whip coming his way and ends up taking a hit to his injured leg. Wei Ying then wants Wen Chao to come for him instead of Lan Zhan, and we can honestly expect nothing less from Wangxian at this point.

Lan Zhan conquers his silent grieving and mute seething to stand in defiance against Wen Chao. It is worth mentioning that his patience and tolerance can even bear the brunt of a fallen world, but cease to exist the second someone mistreats Wei Ying before his eyes. You know what they say about love being a vicious motivator. His protective stance here screams..

Lan Zhan Holds On To Wei Ying For A Short Span Of Eternity

Wen Chao sure is very curious about the nature of their relationship and unable to fathom what Wei Ying could possibly want with Lan Zhan. He’s already safe and sound with him in Qishan, so if they’re not talking about the Yin Iron, what the hell is it? This inquisition is a bit ridiculous, as if the writer specifically gave him these lines to point out to the audience that Wangxian are being soulmates in love once again.

What Lan Zhan does not say, he makes up for with the million times he reaches for Wei Ying instinctively; spontaneous skinship is one of the ways through which his love for Wei Ying finds expression. It is phenomenal that He Who Does Not Touch People firmly holds on to his lover through this whole monologue that follows.

There are few things in the world that can inspire Lan Zhan’s wrath and protection right now, and Wei Ying commands both so effortlessly. Defeated as he is, for Wei Ying, Lan Zhan is always a man of action. And this action particularly proves his willingness to send packing to hell whoever dares to come close to his lover. I wonder what would’ve happened if Wei Ying hadn’t gone to the dungeon on his own volition.

Wangxian Are Once Again Ready To Risk It All For Each Other

It would’ve been nice to see them get their alone time, but what’s one more complication on the path of true love, right?

If you thought about it, Wangxian’s universe truly conspires to bring them together sometimes. Wen Ning tells Wei Ying everything Lan Zhan wasn’t able to, and Wen Qing does everything in her power to ensure they’re both out of harm’s way. Even when our heroes aren’t able to spend time together, they are being assisted by outside forces that work to ensure their love has a future. There are always people left in the world who are rooting for Wangxian because they’re the good gays guys! 

We are well aware of how deeply and madly Wei Ying loves Lan Zhan, but it is startling all the same that even when he is in physical agony, what infuriates him to the point of madness is the news of Lan Zhan being hurt and his home being burnt down. Wei Ying is also more than willing to endure his pain a while longer if it means Lan Zhan has a shot at getting better.

Wangxian at any given point of time are ready to sacrifice themselves for the other and wage a war against the entire world for wronging the love of their life. That’s what makes these soulmates more unique than most, if not all lovers in fiction. Throughout the story, their romance is subjected to a billion tests and every choice they make is bound to make the viewers cry and highlight the unfairness of the impossible stakes they go through to be with each other. This is no ordinary romance, and that’s why it is all the more fantastic they are able to survive these unthinkable odds and come out shining in the end.

Lan Zhan’s concern and affection for Wei Ying is so open that it bleeds all over our screens. It’s like he looks at the rest of the world with aloof objectivity but the minute his lover comes into his sight, his eyes can bloom only warmth and emotion. Even the vision that touches Wei Ying from afar should be gentle and reverent, fit for holding in sight something precious beyond measure. This can be said about the both of them.

It is when NHS mentions their halcyon days at Cloud Recesses that we realize how their lives have changed irreversibly. Both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are visibly sadder, like they’re wishing to return to simpler times when courting Lan Zhan was the biggest problem in Wei Ying’s life and fighting his feelings for Wei Ying was Lan Zhan’s. They’ve grown closer since then but the impediments on their road have also grown bigger.

Wei Ying Asks Jiang Cheng To Stay Out Of His Love Life

Lan Zhan keeps walking like #conceal don’t feel but the sad version of WuJi reveals all.

Wei Ying has been growing tired of Jiang Cheng trying to dictate what he should and should not feel or do about things that do not concern him and he rightfully puts him in his place in this scene. Jiang Cheng tells Wei Ying to not choose “someone else” as “we” already have a lot to deal with. He implies Wei Ying shouldn’t help Lan Zhan because he isn’t family and is clearly underplaying his injury despite Wei Ying emphasising its urgency. And Wei Ying is so done with putting up with that kind of negative energy in his love life.

He is quick to silence anyone who thinks they can hold him back from his heart or overstep the boundaries of his relationship with Lan Zhan. And his logic is very sound, for who on earth is capable of stopping Wei Ying from helping him? Not even Lan Zhan! 

Wei Ying breaks free of Jiang Cheng's grip and leaves in Lan Zhan's direction after patronizingly patting his arm. And that is his answer. To him, Lan Zhan isn’t just another person and there is certainly no choice he has to make when it comes to him. It will always be Lan Zhan who is his foremost priority and the rest of the world has to simply get used to being left behind.

We see that he knows Lan Zhan would never ask for help but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it. His soulmate will hence always offer it, and if rejected, simply throw him on his back and continue while Lan Zhan informs him once again of how “boring” it is. He doesn’t get to do that, but his sentiment is romantic enough to stay in Lan Zhan’s memory for sixteen years and become an action he boldly reciprocates when Wei Ying comes back.

Wangxian’s Love Story is Truly “Epic”

Episodes 11 and 12 trace the beginnings of the turmoil that will forge Wangxian’s path (and make us weep). Every romance starts from the idyllic state of undisturbed happiness but it seldom remains there through the whole story. And let’s be honest, calamities bring emotional depth and complexity to a plot, exposing that our favorite characters are human, flawed and a lot closer to reality than we imagined. Both the heroes stay loyal to their core values, with the conviction to be fearless in the face of unforeseen adversities in life and love.

And we hope like the hopeless romantics who are in love with the greatest love story ever told, that maybe all the tragedies that are about to befall Wei Ying and Lan Zhan won’t matter one day because their happy ending will heal all wounds. Obstacles will continue to strew our heroes apart and push them towards the other on a loop, but Wangxian are like magnets destined to snap back together. They will ascend beyond the stratosphere of romance, straight to the heavens, because their love’s greatest virtue is that they have each other and know each other more than any two people ever did in all of history. They are devoted to the other unconditionally in soul, mind and body. 

It’s just that our idiot-soulmates take the long way round to realize that their own joint force is capable of annihilating and birthing entire universes, and nothing that ever dared to stand on their path ever stood a chance. And when they do realize that their love is an infinite, impossible force that can bend the laws of nature and be a harbinger of greatness to a world that is doomed to fail, their story is exalted to an epic that doubles as a romance, effectively displacing all the bland, straight examples of love that have infiltrated our past and perpetuated heteronormativity. Because it boasts a love that all of humankind should vie to fashion their lives after and is a true sight to behold - a sight we will rewatch for as long as we live, and bequeath to posterity so they can grow up looking up to Wangxian. Because their love story is the big budget live action fantasy that queer people have been deprived of for so long and is now here to tell us : You should dare to love because it will become your greatest strength. Just like it became Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s.

[scrawnytreedemon]

going off that last ask: loz/yazoo character opinion? i wanna read your thoughts!

Ohooooo, I was waiting for something like this!!! Thank you, Vee :) I’ll do my best to explain <333

Starting off with Yazoo:

First impression: Calm, level-headed, perhaps a bit shy. What surprised me the first time watching was how deep his voice was. He’s got this grace about him that leaves you simply... staring. I interpreted the introductory scene where Loz nearly cries and Yaz tells him not to as comforting-- Which I think is what a good chunk of Rem fans see it as? Overall, pretty, but not much else.

Impression now: I think he’s fucking ruthless under that dainty face, if you ask me. Honestly, it’d be right in line with Sephiroth. I think out of the both of his brothers, he gets along better with Kadaj, but if he wasn’t around, I doubt Yazoo would have nearly enough investment in their quest. He comes across as apathetic and uncompassionate, perhaps even a little haughty. I feel like his relationship with Loz is tolerable at best, and downright acidic at worst. With Loz being the way he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if Yazoo and Kadaj had to keep an eye on him at all times, just in case. I feel, though, at the end of the day Yazoo does care about his brothers, and would risk his life for them. It’s in his bones, and he can’t help it, whether he likes it or not. Still very pretty though, lmao.

Favourite moment: Been forever sinced I watched Advent Children, and, unfortunately, Yazoo my beloved doesn’t get many scenes. I’ll have to go with the introductory scene, as it gives us an idea of who they are and what their dynamic is like right off the bat.

Idea for a story: I feel like any story with Yazoo inevitably ends up involving Loz, so I’ll make a joint bullet-point for them at the end of the post <3

Unpopular opinion: Mmm, probably the more apathetic, if not downright spiteful characterisation. If my friend @vesaniens​’s experience is to be believed, then at least Back In Her Day it was far more common for Yazoo and Loz to be buddy-buddy while Kadaj goes off and does his own thing. I can see the appeal in that dynamic, and understand where it comes from. There’s alot of ways you can interpret ‘don’t cry, Loz,‘ and as it is the introductory scene, however you do sets down the foundation for all that follows.

Favourite relationship: The Remnants aren’t characters I can find preferable ships for in-canon, so romantic is off the table here. I will say, though, a dynamic where Genesis and Yazoo are mentor and mentee would be downright tooth-rotting. Genesis preening him, taking him out to nice places, showing him fine literature-- I love it! I don’t see much talk about how the Remnants would relate to Gen and Geal, and I think that’s a damn shame. Plus, Yazoo can then quietly rub it in either of his brothers’ faces whenever he gets annoyed with them. To pick another, though, definitely him and Loz-- Especially if it is strained. It’s very clear they’re meant to contrast each other. Yazoo is lithe, subtle and venemous; Loz is big, loud and sensitive. I personally have a huge soft spot for fics where they recouncile their differences and learn to truly love each other.

Favourite headcanon: Honestly, I feel like I need to make a general headcanon post for the Rems as a whole. They’re all inherently tied, so a change to one of them usually affects the other two. To touch up on one from a theory I read about a year ago now(God, has it been that long?), I like the idea that the Remnants got a little bit of Genesis and Angeal mixed in. They’re like 90% Seph, give or take, but the other 10%~? Now that’s where the fun begins baby!!! In this case, the donor would be Genesis, and Yazoo would’ve gotten the more passive-aggressive, snarky, preening aspects of his character. The resentment and feelings of  inferiority towards Sephiroth end up getting mixed into Kadaj, however I don’t want to elaborate on this too long lest I go off-topic. On a more crack-heavy note, I feel like if you waved a laser-pointer in front of him, he’d be transfixed. He’s too dignified to actually leap at it... But he likes watching :)

Now, as for Loz:

First impression: Big phuckign himbo, idiotte of a man. Probably can’t even buckle his own boots. Playtime??? Bitch NO, it’s not playtime! WHY ARE YOU CRYING??? But yeah, my initial view fell alot more in line with what I think is the most common interpretation of him. His excecution leans heavily to Big Dumb Idiot Man Who Cries When He Sees A Duckling.

Impression now: Baby. Poor fucking baby. Honestly, that could be said for all the Remnants, but I don’t think Loz’s struggle is discussed nearly enough. I’ve talked about this before, but, for me, it’s painfully clear that Loz is essentially a child in a grown man’s body. Writer Kazushige Nojima has Loz’s lines about playing during his fight with Tifa were based off his own son, and has described him as “missing a little something upstairs” --And looking at him through that lens, things become alot more disturbing. He’s Sephiroth’s love for Jenova; a doting, yearning, infantilising love. There’s an innocence to Loz, something sweet, something light and airy-- And to have him fight, have him torture, have him kill... just, man. This jarring dichotomy between such hulking, brutal strength, this bringer of destruction, and this kid who wants his mother. Is he aware? Does he truly understand the weight of his actions? Can he? Most of this, admittedly, is a bit of a stretch, but I love this doof alot jhdhjfdjhs can you blame me?

Favourite moment: Oh, definitely the crying scene-- You must be real tired of hearing that again. Though, in Loz’s case, it sets up his sensitivity, and his dynamic with his brothers-- Yazoo in particular.

Idea for a story: Same answer as Yaz.

Unpopular opinion: I think my more infantile view of Loz as a whole is semi-unpopular? Fandom seems pretty split on whether he’s just a himbo or actual babyman. Again, hard to tell, what with most Rem content and discussion being several years old and tricky to find. I’d be curious to have a discussion on this! But yeah, if we’re talking about the wider fanbase, I think my intense appreciation of him is definitely unusual. Alot of OG fans see the Rems as tropey villains, and while I will argue that it makes sense considering they’re fragments of a bigger, badder, more complex villain, I don’t think Loz is nearly as shallow as most would have you believe.

Favourite relationship: As discussed with Yazoo, there aren’t any canon characters I consistently ship the Remnants with -- Especially not for Loz, in particular when viewing him through that youthful lens -- Though as with everything, I am flexible :) On the platonic side... Honestly, I think Loz would just be a big softie who hangs around everyone. If Angeal was baking, Loz would definitely chip in to help, though he might cause more trouble than if he stayed aside. I think he’d try and reach out to Sephiroth, only for his affections to be rejected because the latter is Bad With Emotions and is torn between on whether the Remnants are a nuisance he hands off to his old friends or his children who he wants to scoop up and carry off into the vast cosmos.

Favourite headcanon: Loz eats alot of shit he isn’t meant to. Like, shit that would kill twenty grown men. At least once he has mistaken stinging nettle for mint, and spent the next two or three days scraping his tongue constantly. Would chase a ball if thrown, no questions asked; try playing frisbee with this dude, and you’ll end up on the other side of town by the end of it. If you try and pick him up, he just slumps, like a big, brawny ragdoll cat-- Probably purrs like one, too. Definitely appreciates a good scratch behind the ear :)

There’s like... probably mountains more, but this is what I’ve been able to coax out after a day of writing this on and off. Again, thank you so much for asking!! I’ve been meaning to ramble about the Remnants for ages now, but didn’t know how to go about it.

Aight, as promised:

Story idea: This is one I’ve had on my mind for years now. I haven’t gotten around to it, as it’d require greater familiarity with FFVII’s world as a whole, but the premise is that Yazoo and Loz escape far out into the countryside, and end up in a village. Yazoo soon falls ill, and Loz has to provide a living working for a local farmer. Their dynamic is initially strained, and without Kadaj to hold them together, they nearly end up splitting before arrival. As time passes, and as they grow closer to the community, Yazoo’s grumbles fade into concerned murmers. Slowly, he begins to trust Loz more, and Loz learns to take more responsibility. But as their friendship blossoms, Yazoo’s body withers. Bedbound, he wonders how Loz would fare without him, if he could make it. I imagine this ends up leading to Loz deliberately blowing their cover to get needed medical help from WRO, turning themselves in during the process.

Again, there’s probably more to it, but to be honest even I don’t know. That’s the great thing about creativity :) You never know where you end up!

Thank you for asking, and feel free to ask more if you’re curious! This goes for elaboration on characters already asked, certain headcanons, and even pairings! Also, feel free to add on with your own thoughts! Whether they be additions, refutations, or so on. Fandom discussion(provided it’s civil qwq) can be so much fun!

<333

[thealphabetmurders]

The Guys Who Didn’t Like (Modern Day) Musicals

3.3k words | AO3 Link | warnings: swearing, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Remus angst, Remus-typical language and themes

Janus knows that one day his soulmate and himself will be happy, and their love story would be a great and wonderful one... And yet if he has to hear "Freeze Your Brain" playing one more time, his soulmate may not live to see their wedding night.

(Or when your soulmate listens to music or is singing, you hear it in your own head as well.)

***

Janus was on his very last nerve. Sure, wanting to strangle your soulmate was a bit morally frowned upon, however when the song of his nightmares plays for the 4th time that day, he believes anyone would agree that those lines blur to the morally ambiguous side of things. 

Attempting to hold his composure, he waited until they were out of the lecture hall and in Virgil’s car to punch the dashboard with all his might, throwing his beanie off into the backseat, collapsing into his knees, wanting to scream. 

“Jesus Christ, Jay, what the fuck was that?” Virgil stared at his friend with wide eyes, wanting to place his hand down on Janus’ back, comfortingly, but decided against it once he analyzed the outburst, instead keeping his eyes on the road as he pulled out of the parking lot toward their shared dorm.

Janus didn’t respond, just gripped his ears as if that would make the music stop or deafen it. It didn’t, of course, seeing as it was literally in his head. 

“Just play something,” 

“J-” 

“Do it Virgil!” Janus snapped, and Virgil hit the volume button on his car, loud music from a pop punk band he did not recognize played loudly through the car speakers. The noise deafened in his head, and Janus leaned back in his seat sighing, he turned his head towards the driver, “Thank you, Virgil,” He turned his attention towards the road, sighing, before looking up at the ceiling, smirking, “Yeah, you like that, fucker? You make me listen to your shitty pop songs, now you got trash emo in your head,” 

Virgil scoffed, “Trash emo? I promise you Yellowcard is good, they have a violin, I am sure you like that with your jazz weirdness,” 

Rubbing his knuckles, Janus rolled his eyes, “Oh yes, I am sure it is used practically and it is not just a gimmick,” Virgil fell silent and Janus smirked, knowing he had won, “Apologies for my earlier, er, outburst. It is just simply so frustrating that this stupid song has been playing so much for so long,” 

“The smoothie one?” 

“Pretty sure 7-Eleven doesn’t sell smoothies, I think it is a slushie.” Janus stared out the window as Virgil’s playlist rolled to a different song, the lyrics still biting his brain with a dull ache, “Lyrics are so meaningless.” He muttered, “Freeze your brain, suck on that straw, get lost in the pain,” Janus mocked the singer bitterly, a short laugh following, “What kind of lyrics even are though. So shallow and meaningless…” 

“Wait, Freeze Your Brain, that’s from Heathers!” 

Both Virgil and Janus let out a scream that was a much higher pitch than either of them would care to admit. The car swerved over into the next lane, but Virgil corrected it once he regained his composure. 

“By the way, here is your hat back, Jannie,” Remus smiled with his pearly whites on display, acting as though he was doing the pair a service and didn’t almost kill all 3 of them by startling the driver with his unknown presence. 

“Remus! What the fuck- where did you come from,” Virgil yelled, gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white and face red with anger. 

“Well I had abnormal psych earlier in the East-” 

“It’s a figure of speech, dumbass!” Janus said sternly. 

Remus nodded, smiling, “Well, I am in your backseat of course. I got done with my classes about 15 minutes before you and didn’t feel like waiting for a bus in the cold and then walking and then my roommate getting mad at me about the snow on the floor and then us having a fight and then I have to sleep on the sidewalk again which is actually more comfortable than my acu-” 

“How did you even get in here?” Virgil growled, still obviously not over the shock of someone being in his backseat unexpectedly. 

“Door was unlocked,” 

“Sure as fuck wasn’t!” Virgil shook his head, laughing in a way that was scary to watch. The kind of laugh that a serial killer does right before ending the life of their prey. 

“Virgil, shush, Remus what were you sa-” 

Virgil scoffed, “No, Janus you shut up before I shut you up. Remus,” Virgil turned around to face his friend, anger in his eyes, and this was the first time Remus’ expression had faltered, “You don’t get to break into my car, you do not get to break into my dorm, and you don’t get to break into the breakroom at my job, or so help me God I will rearrange all of the uses of your orifices, ‘kay?” 

Remus sighed, resting his hand in his chin, “Are you sure we’re not soulmates?” His voice steeped in adoration.

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, bit his lip and shook his head, opting not to answer. Exasperated, but a little more calm. 

Janus waited a few more moments, making sure the coast was clear from any further outbursts before turning to Remus, “Anyway… My soulmate is listening to what?” 

“Oh,” Remus clapped his hands together, “Freeze Your Brain from Heathers the Musical.” 

Janus rolled his eyes, looking at Virgil, “Oh, wonderful, my soulmate like modern day musicals, just what I needed,” 

“You listen to Hamilton,” Virgil grunted.

“Hamilton is the most popular musical in the world, most likely what revived the entire modern day musical scene, it would be more shocking if Janny hadn’t listened to it,” Remus pointed out, helpfully, resting his chin on the back of Janus’ seat. 

Virgil frowned, lazily flipping his turn signal,  “Why do you know so much about theater, Reme, that isn’t exactly your scene,” 

“Yea, isn’t your favorite band-” 

“Ninja Sex Party,” Virgil finished. 

This caught Remus’ attention, he perked up in his seat and clapped his hands together, wiggling with excitement in the back seat, “Ooh yes! Danny Sexbang is fucking delicious. He makes me want to strangle an ox with my bare hands!” Remus made a gripping motion before quickly putting a finger up to his ear and closed his eyes, “Nobody showed but I'm gonna have some fun, let's get this party started it's an orgy for one, it’s me and my h-”

“Remus!” Janus cut off Remus’ singing with a clap, “I need you to focus. Whilst we all love your singing,” He side-eyed Virgil with this comment, who looked at him but said nothing, “I would like to know about your aptitude for theater knowledge,” 

“Because of the soulmate thing, right you don’t actually care about why I know so much?” Remus said, uncharacteristically seriously. 

Both Virgil and Janus felt the guilt and discomfort settle over the car. Janus laughed awkwardly to save face, “O-of course not, Remus, we like to know your thoughts and interests and-” 

Remus started cackling, “I know Janny, I’m just messing with you. If you guys didn’t like me, Black Parade over there wouldn’t have let me talk to him for 3 hours about John Wayne Gacey on Sunday,” Janus quirked an eyebrow up at Virgil who had a slight blush on his cheeks, keeping himself very focused on the road, “Anyway, my twin’s nuts for musical theater, it is all he would talk about growing up, and now he is in a production of Heathers and he will not shut up about it,” 

“Not shutting up must run in the family,” Virgil muttered, shaking his head. 

A devious smirk was plastered on Remus’ lips. “I am sure you can think of a couple ways to get me to shut up, princess,” 

Virgil gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and Janus didn’t even want to know what was running through his friend’s head, “So, this play-” 

“Musical,” 

“Whatever. My soulmate is listening to it?” Janus frowned. He was concerned, but a little relieved. There have been countless stories of people having to learn a different language because the native tongue doesn’t match what music is in their soulmate’s head. Happened enough that he gets shitty Facebook adverts for language classes, specifically for soulmate related reasons. 

“Seems that way. Actually, our uni’s theater is putting it on, that’s where my brother is performing it. Do you think maybe…” Remus trailed off, quirking up an eyebrow. 

Janus frowned, thinking, “It is possible, yes. Do you think your brother would mind if we sat in on his rehearsals?”

Remus smiled, “Not at all, he loves the attention, I am sure if we go now we’ll be able to catch the end,” 

Virgil groaned, parking the car at their dorm, “So, you’re telling me we just got back to our dorm and now you want me to leave and drive all the way back?” 

“Better punch it Emo Alfred, love is on the line!” Remus ruffled the back of Virgil’s hair who smacked him away, pulling out of the parking lot and driving back towards campus. 

Virgil and Remus began bickering with one another like children , but Janus was not paying much attention to them, he was trapped in his own thoughts. His calm demeanor as he stared out the window of the passenger sat did not match the nervous energy coursing through his body. The music played loudly through Virgil’s car speakers but there was still a dull rhythm in his head where his soulmate's music was still playing. 

 Maybe Janus’ soulmate would hate him. He was not exactly a fan of musicals (plays being more his speed, though he has never been one to be confined to the stage to have a flair for the dramatics), which is a red flag, seeing as that is mainly what his soulmate listens to. What if they are destined to hate one other? What if throughout the great expanses of time and space, the strings of fate connected their two selves just because it would be on sight any time they make eye contact (the homoeroticism of that is not lost on Janus, though he would be an even bigger liar if made himself believe that he did not want a romantic relationship). 

“Jan, we are here,” Virgil put a tentative hand on Janus’ shoulder after he turned the car off. Someone less timid than himself may have jumped, but he was better trained than that, so he simply looked at Virgil, nodding, before exiting the car. 

Shoving his beanie on over his ears and shoving his hands in his coat pocket, he walked with purpose towards the theater, head down and feet hitting hard against the ground, lightly dusted with snow. 

“Remus why- fuck- why do you never talk about your brother?” Virgil pulled his hoodie closer around his middle, the light material not made for weather in the negatives. 

Remus wordlessly pulled off his coat, throwing it over Virgil shoulders, “Same reason you don’t hear me constantly talking about Kanye West: insufferable egomaniacs do not really need any more attention,” He spat out like venom. “Besides, don’t want you to abandon me once you meet Roman because he is just perfect,” He laughed like normal but no one could ignore the intent behind his words. Virgil and Janus side eye’d one other, never hearing Remus speak so seriously. 

Janus swallowed thickly, “Y’know, Remus, we do not even know if Roman is my soulmate. We do not have to go meet him, it is honestly not that important to me,” 

Skipping up the steps, Remus grabbed the doors to the theater, holding it open to his two friends. He snorted at Janus' comment, pulling off his hat and messing up his hair, “Liar,” Essentially ending the debate in a very short, very Remus way. 

The entrance to the auditorium was modest and did not have many decorations. The area is mainly filled with old posters advertising previous shows, as well as accolades for the directors and actors, the newer ones stating a couple familiar names. Virgil and Janus looked at the posters for a little bit before they were summoned by the twin. 

He followed the two towards a side door that opened up backstage. It was dark, but Janus could just make out Virgil pushing his sleeves over his hands, biting his thumbnail. Janus shrugged off his coat, setting it down on a nearby table and fiddled with his winter gloves, beginning to get an uneasy feeling as well. 

“Not to be that guy,” Virgil said in a low voice, grabbing onto Janus’ bicep, “But do you seem to get the feeling we are not supposed to be here?” 

Janus hummed, “I think we are incredibly welcome. Why else would we have to sneak through the back and creep around in the dark?” 

“Remus, why ex- Wait, where is Remus,” Virgil asked in a hushed whisper. 

“Brother!!” Was yelled, followed by a crashing sound. Janus and Virgil looked at each other before rushing towards the noise, finding themselves on a set that looked like a convenience store. Janus saw a girl with short black hair standing near them, looking at the pair confused and Remus on the ground on top of another body. 

“Remus!” The figure pushed Remus off of him before scrambling to stand up. Janus' heart stopped. 

“Oh,” He thought to himself, before praying to any Gods above that might exist, “Please don’t make Remus get us kicked out,” 

The man who Janus cleverly deduced was Roman brushed off his black pants (now covered with sawdust) and ran a hand through his hair, which matched Remus black curls but seemed to be actually styled. Roman held out a hand to Remus who took it, but instead of standing up, pulled Roman back down onto the ground with him. 

Someone towards the front of the stage cleared their throat and sighed, “Salutations once again, Remus. Why do we… Let’s take a 10,” The man sighed, adjusting his glasses before making a sharp exit leaving just the 4 of them on stage. 

“By the grace of Poseidon above, Remus, what exactly did I say about coming to my rehearsals unannounced,” 

Remus tapped his chin, playing with the stubble, thinking, “That I can come anytime and do whatever I want?” 

“No. To not to. Very simple. Just don’t,” Roman sighed standing up, tentatively offering his hand out to Remus again, with a pained expression. Remus’ expression softened as he took Roman’s hand, standing up slightly…. Before falling onto his backside again, taking Roman with him again.

Roman groaned as Remus cackled wildly, “Jeez, are you sure you are the one who got a scholarship, or did they confuse us again?” 

Running a hand through his hair, Roman stood up before backing away like a frightened animal, “It was a theater scholarship, thank you, not a scholarship to avoid being tricked by my tormented, tirisome twin. How did you even get in here... again?” 

“Door was unlocked,” 

“Sure as fuck wasn’t!” Roman ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his brother and finally making eye contact with Janus and Remus across the stage. His cheeks subtlety colored before smiling, walking towards the pair. 

“Oh, I was not aware that Remus had brought an audience this time. I am Roman Prince. I would apologize for his behavior but seeing as your expressions are as externally exasperated as mine, I assume you are used to his… Shenanigans,” Roman’s tone seemed tired but his expression still seemed quite fond.

“Used to it a kind way of putting it,” Virgil grumbled, as Remus ran over, throwing an arm around his shoulder, which made Virgil wear that same fond expression. 

Remus smiled, “This cutie is Virgil, hands off, but this intimidating looking dude right here is Janus. He likes debating, philosophy, vintage style music, and he hates society and styling his hair,” 

Janus bowed his head, instinctively adjusting his beanie, “Thank you Remus for that kind introduction, I am sure Roman wanted that,” 

Roman laughed, “I don’t mind. I hate society and also listen to my fair share of vintage music,” 

“Oh, yea?” 

“Yea, well,” Roman rolled his eyes fondly, “Not exactly by choice. My soulmate listens to that style of music and holy Hephaestus' hammer there is a lot of swing. I mean it is good, but I almost feel bad because ballads before Britney Spears I am not particularly interested it,” 

“My soulmate will not stop playing music from the dreaded musical Heathers, I swear if I have to hear it again I am going to find my soulmate and strangle him,” 

Roman’s expression went from intrigued to devious, the expression makes the difference between Remus and Roman almost indistinguishable, “Oh really?” He smirked, “Did it go something like…” Roman backed up a little bit, standing in the middle of the stage but facing Janus stage left, “ I've been through ten high schools, they start to get blurry, no point planting roots 'cause you're gone in a hurry. My dad keeps two suitcases packed in the den, so it's only a matter of when…” 

Janus' eyes widened to the size of saucers, as he completely forgot the reason they came to the theater was because the theater department was putting on a production of that “dreaded musical” Janus was entranced either way, the mesmerizing voice that has played in his head all his life was standing right in front of him. He looked behind him to gauge Remus and Virgil’s reaction, but the pair must have left the stage without him noticing. 

Roman walked around the stage, still singing, following some choreography he is sure, but another part of him says it cannot be, because it looks so natural, like Roman is the singer, like this was real life and the world is his musical.

The band didn’t need to play, because Janus remembered every beat and every flourish from the countless times it has played in his head. And yet, he is not annoyed this time. It would be impossible to be, when Roman on stage is the most glorious and breathtaking thing. Like a shooting star or fireworks or a tasteful nude- you just cannot look away, even if you wanted to. 

“Just freeze your brain, freeze your brain, go on and freeze your brain…” Roman stopped right in front of him, “Try it,” He spoke, lightly stroking Janus’ cheek with the back of his hand, and God did he want to kiss Roman right there. To taste the faux cherry slush that he imagined was on his lips and tongue… But he didn’t, because he could barely move under Roman’s touch. 

“I-” Janus opened his mouth to speak after a while, “That was- uh- that was alright,” Janus stuttered, fiddling with the ends of his glove. Roman threw his head back, laughing, “I am not one to typically enjoy the, er, modern day musical but you seemed to carry that incredibly well,” 

Roman shrugged, “I was born for this,” He retracted his hand and did a purrete, a soft smile present on his lips. 

“Would you want to go to the cafe with Remus, Virgil, and I? I would understand if you say no, Remus has been kicked out of that cafe too many times to count on one- no- to count on six hands,” 

Roman ran a hand through his hair, “Yes, that seems incredibly on brand for my brother. That pugnacious peasant has no idea how to control his inhibitions,” 

Janus squinted his eyes, smirking slightly, “Do you ever stop with the word play?” 

Roman smiled, real and genuine this time, “No. I suppose that would be something you have to get used to, huh?”

Taking Roman’s hand, he laced their fingers together, “Stop playing show tunes 24/7, and I think I will be able to manage,” 

“Play a song from the 21st century once and while and I think we have a deal,” 

Janus crossed his fingers behind his back, a devious smirk on his lips, “Oh, of course, my Prince,” 

[heartbreakgrill]

Common Sense Pt. 2; Ashton Irwin

a/n: send requests!! I’m so fucking soft these days.

description: in which you hang out with Ashton and his friends before staying the night at said-simp’s house.

You threw your head back, cackling louder than you thought you ever could as Calum ducked, mouth hanging open. He fell to his knees, but his eyes lit up when the marshmallow landed between his lips. You cheered, arms in the air, bouncing on your feet.

“Can you do another?” You breathed through your laughter.

He nodded, unable to say much of anything. Blindly, you reached a hand into the bag of marshmallows and gripped one between your already stick fingers. Calum titled back his head, parting his lips further to make room for another.

You chucked it at his face, your aim directly at his mouth. He ducked down to catch it because it had arched in the air. You cheered with him again, snorts coming from your vocal chords and nostrils. He laughed so hard, he fell to his knees and dropped marshmallow into his hand. You ran over to Calum, falling onto your knees next to him.

You heard footsteps near the living room and looked up, still laughing with a beat red face. Ashton sighed, grinning, placing his hands on his hips, “How are we supposed to make s’mores if you eat all of the marshmallows?”

You stood up, shuffling over to him with crossed arms. “You’re just jealous Calum’s better than you at catching them.”

“My mouths bigger,” Calum grumbled. He stood and passed the two of you to the kitchen so he could spit out the food in his mouth.

“Yeah, whatever,” Ashton called after him. “The fires going outside, if you two wanna join.”

You nodded, finally coming down from your laughter. Ashton intertwined his hand with yours.

“I’m glad you’re fitting in with everyone,” he remarked as you stepped closer to him.

You smiled up, “Me, too. I was super nervous an hour ago, and now I’m having the best time ever. Is Sierra still here?”

You asked the last question as you and Ashton made your way outside, Calum trialing along behind quietly. Ashton held open the door to his backyard for you and Cal, and you joined back at his side.

“Yeah, she’s over there with Luke,” he pointed across the pool, over towards the edge of the yard where there was a railing to guard a cliff overlooking the city.

She waved at you, and you took giddy steps over to her. “Hi!” She grinned, sitting up from Luke’s side. His arm slid down from her shoulders to her waist, lazily dropped over her.

You sat on the patio couch next to her, the hum of Luke, Michael, and Crystal talking in your ears along with crackling of the fire, crickets, and wind. Ashton and Calum trudged along behind, the older man plopping next to you as he carried on a conversation.

“So, you were going to tell me about your job?” Sierra prompted, urging you to strike up paragraphs of thoughts.

You did so; “Oh, right! Okay, so...”

You rambled on with Sierra for what felt like hours, but you knew it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. Michael and Crystal has decided to slip away during the middle, saying goodbye with nice-to-meet-you’s and promises of tomorrow. Calum, who took up Michael’s spot in order to be closer to everyone, fell into conversing with Luke and Sierra.

You glanced over at Ashton, noticing his eyes were already on you. You were sitting side by side, hands conservatively to yourselves. You smiled up at him and moved closer to him. A chill ran down your spine and he noticed your want and need for his warmth.

Ashton wrapped an arm around your back, fingers curling around your shoulders. You nuzzled into his hold, your ear cupping the skin protecting his heart. You heard it thumping in time to the crickets, his voice echoing through your head.

“Need a coat?” He asked through a soft grin. You looked up at through your lashes and shook your head. “Let me know if you do. Are you having a good time?”

“The best,” you murmured, “everyone is so kind and welcoming. I’m excited to fit into your little family.”

“I’m so glad,” Ashton hesitantly pursed his lips before bending his neck to press a kiss to your forehead.

You blushed, skin on fire from the flames licking at the air in front of you and the flames burning your stomach and heart. You turned in Ashton’s arm, towards the group. He adjusted, wrapping both limbs around your torso. His hands rested on your stomach, stiff and nervous. You took one in your one, looping each finger together and holding loosely.

You jumped in as Calum said, “I can’t wait to go on tour again. I get so antsy just sitting at home.”

“Whats your favorite spot you’ve visited?” You asked, eyes flickering between the group of people.

“Japan,” he answered quickly. Your brows flicked up as if to say, “Really?” and he nodded. “Defintiley Japan. The food, the architecture, everything, is amazing.”

“I don’t know, I’d say Italy,” Luke cut in with a nod of approval from Sierra. “It’s so pretty and historical.”

“You seem to forget I’m single,” Calum flicked in his hands in a sarcastic motion.

“Ah, true,” Ashton added. “Anyway, I’d say Paris. It’s even prettier, the architecture and food is better, and it’s so romantic.”

“Is it really?” You glanced up at him in admiration.

“Really,” he nodded, grinning at you. “I’ve never been while in a relationship or anything, but you feel like you’re in love because of simply being there.”

“That sounds amazing,” you guffawed.

“Do you travel, [Y/N]?” Sierra said.

You shrugged, “Not really. I mean, I’ve been to a few places all over the country, but I’ve never left it. I don’t even have a passport.”

To them, not having a passport out of place because they were so used to it all.

You added, “It’s pretty lame, huh?”

You felt Ashton shake his head, “Not lame at all.”

“You’ll get out there,” Sierra spoke like it was a promise.

Calum and Luke agreed with nodding heads. The conversation flowed for another ten minutes before the three decided to call it a night.

You walked with Sierra to the door, making pinky promises through your words for lunch dates, swapping numbers right as Ashton went to close the door. When they were all gone, you were left with the ghost of a grinning smile.

Ashton was staring at you in affectionate amusement. When you turned to him, away from the door, he tilted his head. He reached for your hand, tugging you into him by the wrist. As if it were a muscle memory in your arms, you wrapped them around his shoulders, looking up at him.

“You’re so pretty,” he slowly leaned his forehead into yours, boring his hazel eyes into your own.

You felt your breath leave your lungs, your diaphragm refusing air because it was filled with paper hearts. You held your breath as his lips puckered slightly, as they fit themselves between your own and your eyes squeezed shut. He gripped your waist, fingers squeezing into your hips as his lips pressed harder.

He pulled away, the sound of kissing echoing between you. “Pretty.”

Your nose scrunched up from the joy you felt and you blushed. You pulled him into you, hugging him tight. “I really like you.”

“Me, too,” he agreed into your shoulder, kissing it lightly. “Are you ready for bed?”

You answered by pulling away and allowing him to guide you to his room. Ashton headed into the bathroom connected to it while you admired the master-sized bedroom. You started off in the corner by the door, lightly tracing your fingers over the simple decorations he had: A bookshelf, filled with anything from music theory books to mystery novels. Your smile quirked at the few titles you recognized, understanding just how well the two of you fit. You moved to the dresser against the window, noticing a door leading into a walk-in closet you didn’t feel like inspecting.

On the dresser were little emblems of Ashton: His cologne, the beautiful odor of sunshine and oranges you loved smelling on his tanned skin; a small plate decorated with gold and white features which held the rings he wore; his deodorant, sitting alongside his vintage camera he’d told you all about over text message. Next to that was, funny enough, a polaroid camera. You didn’t fail to notice the polaroids hung all over his room, on the fridge, framed in the living room. You carefully touched the leaf of his planet before your eyes flicked up the mirror above his dresser.

He was leaning against the door frame to the bathroom, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a black t shirt. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, glasses sitting firmly on the bridge of his nose, and his curls pushed back on his head, but still messy as before. You smiled at him through the mirror, biting onto your bottom lip in order to suppress screaming at him that he was adorable and attractive and you were definitely might be falling in love with him.

He grinned back, pushing himself off of the door to meet you in the middle of the room. His breath was minty, face shiny from cleanser. “Go ahead and do whatever you gotta do to get ready for bed.”

You chuckled, “Thanks for your permission.”

He rolled his eyes, playfully, and shrugged. “Well, i didn’t know if you felt awkward just walking into my bathroom.”

“I’ll only feel awkward if it smells bad, and-“ you moved past him moving into the said-room, “it doesn’t! Congrats, Ash, you’re cute and clean!”

He blushed, falling back onto his bed and moving to his side to look at you. “You know it, babe.”

You felt giddy at the nickname as you stepped back into his room. You unzipped your bag, fumbling around for your pajamas and bag of cleaning items. Once you had them, you moved back inside and softly shut the door.

You went through the motions of changing and used the toilet before washing your hands and stepping back into his room. Ashton was scrolling through his phone, now under the covers, but he looked up when he heard you. He put his phone on the charger and on his bedside table. The lights had been turned off, save for the lamp beside him.

You stuffed your things back in your bag and set it on the floor by the bathroom door. You moved to get into bed when you noticed Ashton’s eyes flick up and down your body.

You pursed your lips, feeling insecure under his gaze, “What?”

He reached for your hand and you took it. “You look so cute.”

“Thanks,” you squeezed his fingers in your own, a squeal emitting from your lips when he tugged you down beside him.

He moved so he was on top of you, giggles bubbling from your lips as he chuckled. His curls tickled your forehead, lips brushing over your own.

You pressed yourself up towards him and kissed him, impatient to wait for him to. He grudgingly pulled back and lay beside you. You hesitantly curled into his side, but he in tangled his legs in yours and pulled you tight.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” he spoke as he turned off the lamp.

You replied, through deep red cheeks and butterflies spewing from your lips, “Goodnight, Ash.”

TAGLIST: @mantlereid , @boxofteenageideas , @dinosaursandsocks , @elliewgnr

[jinmindeulle]

valtameri | jwy (2)

union

word count: 2.7k

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader

genre: pirate au, mermaid au, pirate!wooyoung x mermaid!reader ∣ angst, fluff

warnings: none

a/n: if you wish to be part of my tag list for future updates please do not hesitate and let me know! i’ll happily add you! ♥

if you haven’t yet, i highly recommend you to read the introductions first, as the story will make more sense for you with that information! read here:

ATEEZ crew

the mermaid world

link to valtameri’s masterlist here

happy reading!  

Her head hurt.

Her eyes were closed, but she shut them harder after feeling like they were burning under her eyelids. She felt a salty taste in her mouth that made her swallow. Feeling the dryness through her throat, a sudden urge to drink fresh water flooded her.

In an attempt to wake up from her slumber, y/n tried to open her eyes. The bright sunlight that hit her made it impossible, though. Deciding it was a wiser option to try and sit down, she used her hands to grip whatever she was lying over in order to hoist herself up.

Her fingers met with wet sand.

What?

Her disorientation gave her the strength she needed to finally sit, slowly opening her eyelids. Using one of her hands to protect her eyes from the sun, and blinking rapidly to adjust her blurry vision, she came to the conclusion that now, she was even more confused.

Deep blue waves dissolved into foam when they violently crashed on the shore. Nothing more than beige rough sand surrounded her. Turning back, she noticed palm trees and bushes all over the place, some of the former fallen and mid-buried like they had been lying there for a long time, going through and surviving several storms and floods.

Where am I?

Trying to stand up, she noticed that the pair of limbs that were part of her lower body felt numb. When she tried to move them, not even the fingers answered.

For some reason y/n sensed that, in one way or another, those legs felt alien for her. Not because she wasn’t able to move them, no. In the back of her mind, something told her that although they seemed like they had been there since day one, she had never had them in the first place. But how?

What am I doing here?

She wished for answers. Something, anything. She wanted, no, she needed something that told her the reason why she was all alone on a deserted island, unable to move an inch from its shore because her legs wouldn’t respond.

Desperately looking for that something in all of the corners of her mind, y/n realized that she had lost a part of herself, and that had made her end up there. Tears pickled her still burning eyes, a loud sob leaving her trembling lips.

What am I going to do when I don’t even remember who I am?

“What do you think happened down there?”

Wooyoung heard his best friend’s question, but was too worried to try and find a logical explanation. Shit, he didn’t even have a clue, how would he know?

The Destiny’s captain and quartermaster were holding an emergency meeting with the King of the Seas. Everybody aboard knew that ever since that morning, something was off.

They were supposed to have a normal meeting to simply discuss safety issues as well as gold exchange, but that never happened. Well, it did, but not in its usual way. The King had sent his second hand, that Arnav merman who Wooyoung despised so much, on his behalf. But the pirate knew that it was worse than just sending him because ‘something came up’, as Arnav had said. Y/n had promised to go up with her father so that they could at least see each other from afar. And she had been absent too.  

“I don’t know, hyung, but I sense it’s not just something. It’s bigger than that.”

“Do you think y/n is involved?” San’s whisper came out muffled, his cheeks full of the red apple he had started eating a few minutes before. His eyes showed concern, and a bit of confusion made its way in them upon hearing his friend’s reply.

“I don’t think so, I know so. She told me she was coming this morning, and she didn’t show up. Nor her neither her father. And she has never broken our promises, ever.”

San was about to say something, but kept his mouth shut when Hongjoong’s cabin door flew open, revealing him, the quartermaster and the King of the Seas himself walking with a pair of legs like they had always been a part of him. Wooyoung knew that he was able to turn himself into a two-legged being for short periods of time. One of those starry nights that he had spent with y/n, she told him everything about her father, including the fact that he had made a deal with a ‘magical being’ that had allowed him to do so. However, he hardly ever chose to leave his merman form. Only when an issue needs more than what he can do to be solved, she had muttered. When he thought about it, Wooyoung noticed that what y/n had confessed actually matched reality.

When Hongjoong and Mingi had their meetings with Havelock, they would use the wooden boat to reach the meeting point, which actually was the huge rock where him and y/n met every night. The mermen would still be fluttering in the ocean, and the pirates would stay inside the boat in case something went wrong.

The fact that Havelock was now walking past them, instantly confirmed that what Wooyoung was thinking, was surely right. Y/n was in danger.

Only after witnessing how the merman went back to his real form in front of their eyes and quickly dove down the ocean, did the captain speak.

“Princess y/n has gone missing.”

Wooyoung’s heartbeat suddenly stopped. He sensed it, yes, but hearing it from his captain made him terrified. He felt seven pair of eyes fixated on him, waiting for any kind of reaction. The whole crew was aware of his nightly escapades, having discovered him after realizing that he was gone after midnight, sometimes even skipping meals. San had known from the start, but he couldn’t keep the secret and had confessed it to his captain after seven days of hiding his friend’s nightly absences, confirming Hongjoong’s suspicions.

Wooyoung had given San the silent treatment for over two weeks.

However, after Hongjoong told him that as long as he didn’t get involved with her in any kind of romantic relationship that could prevent him from keeping up his pirate life, it was okay. The young pirate was sure that it was already late, but he promised anyways. It could never go further than having feelings for her, he had thought.

“Do you know anything, Wooyoung?” Mingi broke the silence.

The pirate sighed, his eyes never leaving the wooden deck. “She was fine yesterday. We talked like usual about random things. She asked me when it was that we were sailing again, but she does it really often when we’re about to go back to our sea life. She seemed okay.” His last sentence came out choppy, realization finally hitting him.

“Havelock says she ran away minutes before our morning meeting. They were discussing her future as the Queen of the Seas, and stormed out of the room. No one has seen her ever since.” Hongjoong declared, voice firm and cold as every time he tried to figure something out.

“How are they supposed to find her? She could’ve gone anywhere, it’s the fucking sea!” San gasped, opening his arms wide as if trying to demonstrate that the ocean they were sailing in was larger than life.

“He may have mentioned that he was almost sure her disappearance is not just because. Right before that, Havelock informed her that she was going to be married off to that Arnav creature.”

Wooyoung was feeling down and afraid. He was worried to death.

But after hearing Mingi’s confession, his blood started boiling. Anger took over his common sense, making his hands turn into tight fists. He felt San’s grip on his shoulder, trying to calm him down at least by comforting him. Nevertheless, only having y/n back and safe with him would be able to do that.

“What matters the most is that we’re getting involved. According to him, y/n would never do that. And if she ever did, they would be able to find her easily as those merman guards are all over the place down the sea. If they don’t find her any time soon, she should be in more danger than we think. That means she’s out of the ocean.”

“How could y/n be out? Can she switch like her father?” Seonghwa asked, a frown forming in his godlike features.

“She can’t. But someone may have taken her out.” Yeosang explained, making his way towards Hongjoong’s side. The Destiny’s captain looked at him and nodded.

“Havelock thinks that if anyone took her, it must have been the Royal Navy.”

“Are we facing them again?” the youngest spoke up, slightly touching the cutlass that was placed on his golden belt. His fighting reflexes always kicked in when hearing that a battle was on its way.

“We’re beginning our journey now, earlier than expected. Havelock is sending messengers to report over y/n’s status if they ever find her down there, but we can’t wait any longer. She needs us looking for her up here as well.”

“The barrels are almost empty, captain.” Yunho intervened, taking out a piece of paper where he had scribbled down the Destiny’s food and water supplies, among other necessary items. “We need to recharge them or else we’ll run out of water in the following days, and eventually of food.”

“We’re making a stop, then.” Hongjoong announced, looking at Yeosang.

“Bay’s port is safer for us. We’re not that far away and we can easily get there taking into consideration the wind’s behavior lately. We should be arriving in a day if everything turns out the right way.”

“It will” Wooyoung finally spoke up, intensely fixating his eyes on his captain’s. Hongjoong reassured him with a nod, his own eyes reflecting confidence under the setting sun.

Wooyoung sat at the crow’s nest after adjusting the sails for what felt like the ninth time over an hour. The wind was constantly changing directions, so going up and down every ten minutes was not an option.

Yeosang had warned the crew that an inevitable thunderstorm was hitting the Destiny any time soon. Every pirate was busy at their jobs trying to make sure that nothing was left to chance.

Mingi was at the wheel quietly talking to the navigator, who had a plethora of different maps with routes they would need to take in the following hours in order to get safely to Bay’s port. The quartermaster kept a poker face, but Wooyoung knew that he was terrified due to the upcoming storm. Mingi never did well when they faced those, usually panicking until Yeosang took his place and let him go inside his cabin to calm down.

The oldest of them all, Seonghwa, was busy storing away his beloved medical instruments and sanitary products. He wasn’t going to use them, so why risk losing them in the storm? He had little left until they reached the island and he wasn’t going to let them go to waste. Seonghwa had already gotten the kitchen ready with Yunho’s help, so his job was almost done.

Talking about Yunho, he was finishing his main task at the bottom of the ship, specifically at the stores. There lied his precious wooden barrels. After clumsily writing down that four barrels needed to be fixed and one was completely out of the game, he made his way to the second level of the ship. Passing by Wooyoung and San’s quarters, he got right into the kitchen and started preparing the nerve-calming tea that Mingi had when thunderstorms were just around the corner.

Jongho and San were also storing away the powder cargo and protecting their canons with plastic bags so that they would not get soaked when the water leaked from the deck. Wooyoung had tried to fix that plenty of times but nothing seemed to work, so they settled for just protecting the machinery and utensils instead.

As the gunners were taking care of the large weapons, the Captain offered himself to start sorting out the regular ones while they finished with the canons first. They were truly prepared for battle, because the biggest cabin was full of blunderbusses, cutlasses, muskets, boarding axes and knipple shots. And those were merely backup, because each pirate had their own ready to be used on their belts. However, the more dangerous ones, those that only San was prepared to work with (such as grenades and stinkpots) were in another cabin, so Hongjoong just left them for him to deal with. Jongho quickly made his way to help out his captain while San kept going down the little corridor to take a look at his dangerous babies.

Just when Hongjoong and Jongho were about to finish, the loud high-pitched yell of Wooyoung was heard. He was calling for a meeting at the main deck. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow in confusion, scratching his neck through his long mullet.

“I’m done here hyung, let’s go” Jongho announced, quickly checking around the room one last time.

“Yeosang must have called it.” Hongjoong nodded while making their way out, meeting with San midway.

And the captain was always right. Everybody was already gathered in a tight circle, patiently waiting for the trio to arrive. If this crew were to be defined by a word, it would be union. No meeting was started or decisions were taken unless every crewmember was there. If one of them was sick or not available, they would seek for his opinion first and then share it in the gathering. That’s how it worked for them.

“The thunderstorm will be here in less than an hour.” The navigator looked up to the dark skies and made a face raising both of his eyebrows. “Well, less than half an hour. I don’t have a good feeling about it. It has no spots whatsoever; the sky is barely there. It’s getting darker and dark-”

“Can you get to the point, please?” A wild Mingi interrupted Yeosang, quickly gulping down the last drops of his tea.

“There’s a deserted island near our current location. I know it will set us back for at least a day, but I believe that our safety is first. We can just berth there until the storm dies down and set sail again in the morning.”

“It’s a wise decision. Let’s vote.” Hongjoong said, nodding. “Those in favor raise your hand, please.” Eight right hands flew up, an undivided decision evident. “Let’s get to work then, pirates.”

Rain was already falling when the Destiny reached land. Wooyoung quickly made his way down the foremast and landed gracefully on the forecastle deck in order to anchor properly. The ship made its stop, and the eight pirates sighed in relief. They were out of the thunderstorm, at least for the worst part.

Once the Destiny was safely set and tightly berthed to the seemingly one and only dock of the deserted island, Hongjoong and Mingi gathered in the former’s cabin to discuss the next move after reaching Bay’s port to recharge for the voyage. Seonghwa and Yunho decided that everyone needed a meal before going to sleep, so they both made their way to the kitchen. San and Wooyoung went up the ropes together to make sure every knot was able to resist the winds, getting soaked in the process. The younger pirate took care of the mizzenmast part while the older dealt with the foremast section.

“Wooyoung-ah?!” San yelled, looking for his best friend’s attention on the other side of the ship.

“What?!”

San was so far away from him and adding the heavy rain, Wooyoung could only make out ‘someone’ and ‘sand’ when his friend answered him. Knowing that repeating the sentence would not help, he decided it was about time to use his topman abilities and like a monkey would go through the jungles’ lianas, Wooyoung went through the ropes without messing once. When he finally reached the mizzenmast’s crow’s nest, San pointed at a dark spot that was barely visible over the sand.

“Is it just me or someone’s lying flat on the sand?”

The dark night was not helping at all, so Wooyoung had to focus really hard. Like he was calling it, lightning hit the skies for a second. However, that was enough for both of them.

“Someone’s lying on the sand!”

next  ↬ chapter iii — moon

tag list ♥ @peterparkerismybae​ @enollie​ 

[bi-dazai]

honestly i think i have a weird anger or cultural confusion where other gay and trans ppl are like much happier and comfortable to come out and shit and be open, but I've always had an extremely complicated relationship with it because it's always made me feel so isolated and lonely, even with other gay ppl around. and younger ppl especially will like go around coming out so frequently and meanwhile if I'm going to even tell you that I'm attracted to women I have to trust you 110% and that isn't something that comes easy.

I'm terrified of like. Wearing even rainbow goddamn socks because I'm scared shitless of getting bullied, or harassed, or even assaulted. Which is ironic considering I try to be quite fashionable in public but with being openly bi (let alone being openly TRANS) it's a complete no-no.

Like I think as much as I love being bi and nb at the same time I still despise it, I still think it's ruined my life. I have gender dysphoria about my chest whereas if I was cis I would be so happy with how feminine my body is. My first ever relationship with another girl at the moment being cut short by abusive homophobia fucked me up in innumerous ways, leading me to like...severe issues with the way i feel about sex and emotional attachment and touch.

And ofc there's the homophobia, like at this moment I'm probably leaning towards getting a fuckbuddy or smth over tinder but like a romantic relationship with another person is terrifying, like I'm insanely private w relationships even w men, I won't let us hold hands if I think too many people might see bc i have this stupid complex

There's more and more but my relationship with being Out is one where it's something that I simultaneously desire and despise, being Out is one of the most terrifying concepts I can think of and to me having someone refer to me as "they" and not as a woman is simply not as important as being safe, as not living in even more fear of assault.

And then all around me ppl my age (although usually younger) are all coming out to anyone and everyone like it's just casual, saying their pronouns like it's nothing. And first it's disbelief and shock because holy fuck, has everyone gone fucking mad?? Are we all so fucking stupid that we just forget the everloving fear homophobia strikes into you?? And then it's the jealousy, that these people have this comfortable relationship with their own gay/transness and enough trust to actually open up and tell a room full of strangers "please call me they not she". It's disappointment and anger in myself that almost 7 years after forcing myself to whisper "I'm bisexual" to the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night and then cry my eyes out because it felt like I'd been cursed, and probably over a decade since I'd started having sexual feelings about all genders, and an entire lifetime of having feelings for men women and others, after so long I'm still just a coward who sits and hates it all, who fears it all.

But then recently I've come to the realisation that the way I realised I was gay was a way that's kind of...dying out. That being the mostly offline way.

Don't take this the wrong way but I've found a lot of people go online and find this overwhelming amount of support and representation for gay and trans identity. You can argue validly this statement, but the context I use this in is comparing it to like. 2013. People were way less online. Being an online celebrity was a novelty.

At school there were dyke, faggot, tranny, etc, thrown around as if they were confetti. Jokes about "lesbos" and "lesbihonest" humiliated any girl who was too close to another girl. I grew up not just in Brisbane Queensland but in a town that was connected to the mainland only by two bridges - a landbridge and a humanmade bridge. The school was overwhelmingly anglo. Overwhelmingly right wing.

I realised I was bi with minimal help from Tumblr. I realised I was bi because I fell, hard, for my best friend. And then she liked me back, and our relationship was amazing. But the school found out. We held hands under the table, we found a quiet moment to kiss and everyone pointed and stared. We made out in the shadow of a building and turned to find twenty people watching gawkeyed, pointing, fascinated.

The entire time her mum was abusive, and massively homophobic. She blamed me for turning her daughter gay. She forced us multiple times to break up at the threat of violence. Eventually we did. We never talked about it. Our friendship never returned like it used to. It was awkward, tinged with sadness, regret, yearning and young love cut short.

It was traumatic, to say the least.

Tumblr in 2014, despite the cringe screenshots, wasn't actually mostly about LGBT positivity or whatever. I first saw the term bisexual on, if you can believe me, a quotev story in 2011 about a cheerleader and an emo girl who get together in a secret relationship. You were either gay or straight, or you had an exception. Bisexual felt right, though, for me, felt accurate, was accurate.

It was years of confusion and secrecy and guilt, peeks at other girls in the changing room that I couldn't help and I didn't understand why. Then it was months and months of anger and frustration at myself that I was feeling this way and confused about myself, and then when I said those words it felt like I was being torn apart. It felt like my life had fallen apart. I cried every goddamn night, I felt awful all the time.

At school the kids noticed. They noticed before I started dating my friend, they noticed the way I looked at her and they interrogated me about it. I'd claim up and down I had a crush on another boy - true perhaps, but it was a passing interest - and then they said they told him and analysed how I reacted. And then the interrogations continued for months because the gay girl was entertainment for them. Around me, as I walked between classes, had lunch, walked home, dyke dyke dyke faggot hahaha.

And then the relationship happened and then leelah alcorn happened and I learned what a trans person is. And sometime when I was fifteen I saw nonbinary begin to pop up, terms like genderfluid and nonbinary and they rang true like bisexual did, but the last time I went down a rabbit hole like that it ended in trauma, and another person got hurt. I didn't throw homophobia at her, but I felt and still feel responsible for it. I didn't turn her gay, but I made it obvious. I don't quite know how to say it.

I knew I was nonbinary, deep down. One day I decided to add that to my tumblr bio. Nobody gave a shit, just like nobody gave a shit when I said I was bi. But that was because I wasn't open about it even online. I couldn't talk about that stuff or I'd curse myself.

Time went on, I got more comfortable, collected fresh new traumas. My brother came out as trans. Around me, friends came out as gay and trans. But they kept coming out. They didn't stop at close friends and trusted family, they told teachers, their entire class. I didn't understand. Why the fuck would you put yourself at risk like that?? And I still don't. I said it was jealousy and anger at myself before, and maybe it is still a little bit, but now, it's just concern.

As I said, the way I realised I was gay is the rather old fashioned way - offline, through trauma, and almost entirely unenjoyable and traumatic. A lot of kids still go through that for sure. But the ones I see telling everyone over that they're gay or trans are, in my experience, not those ones. As the internet began to become more of a general use thing and less of a "only recluse weirdos" space, the online LGBT safe space began to expand into an audience bigger than before. Online, you were safe. Nobody knew your name, you were behind a screen. Homophobia was veiled, you could just delete a hateful anon, could just log off. You could put up your pronouns and people would use them because, well, ppl didn't really have any other identifier someone might use for your gender. So this positive uplifting atmosphere spawned for the most part. And instead of learning through confusion and rare chance encounters with random words and crying into the sink every night that you're gay, you much easier come across this content that tells you indepth what this is and that it's okay. And you think, well wow, that's me, and then...you know, I guess. Not denying there's some of the classic self hatred etc but...you have this safe space online to fall back on, and I cannot emphasise how much that has pushed the acceptance and widespread knowledge of lgbt people in the past 5 years. I didn't exactly have that space, and my realisation was through mostly real life channels, which were swamped at all sides by homophobia, at worst, abusive, at kindest, it would treat you like a sideshow attraction.

Being someone who arguably isn't old enough to brush this difference away with being an "older gay" but still having had a gay experience quite different to the majority in my generation (applying this to area as well) I have to say I'm confronted with this comfortableness other days have a lot and it's always jarring. I think also that while it's important and I'm happy that "younger" gays and transes have at least one good support network/space to fall back onto online, I do think it creates this kind of...dangerous other side, especially for those who go to schools that are LGBT positive and have families who are also friendly to that sort of stuff. I find that young gay teens are totally unprepared and unhardened for the fact that most people you run into in real life despise your guts for existing as who you are. And while we can make as many soppy gay narratives as possible about being honest about who you are and losing shame, we need to face the fact and teach young lgbt kids that being Out isn't just something you do as a ritual in being gay or trans, it's a brave thing and it's completely optional. And furthermore, most importantly, it's insanely dangerous.

I don't think that teenage, raw fear of the consequences of even the very concept of being Out has ever left me. Perhaps I have to thank the homophobic 14 yr olds who swamped me in slurs and trauma, because it's given me a survival sense that's kept me closeted so far you'd never get in.

But occasionally I'm tempted, particularly with my transness which I am only out to perhaps 3 people about, to venture into the world of telling people about yourself. I started a new uni semester and in a tutorial, the teacher handed out cards. We were to use it as a placard to write our names on it so the teacher would learn our names over the next few classes. And, if we chose...our pronouns.

I stared at that card for what felt like a million years. This has always been an ordeal. People don't know how to pronounce my name, even though it's a rather simple one. But pronouns? I'd never really told anyone those. Online, yes, and once when I was asked by a friend i was brave enough to say "any will do" but this - this wasn't the curated safe online space, this wasn't a one-time phrase to a friend. This was an open, permanent thing that would sit below me every class, declaring me to 18 other people. I wrote down "NATALYA", then beneath "she/". And then I stared some more. I felt like I was going to die. I felt like I was the biggest fool, because before I could stop myself I wrote "she/they". No "he", not yet. But...it was there.

At the end of the class the teacher collected the placards. I wanted to run back screaming, wanted to ask her for a new card so I could be safe again. But I didn't because I would look like a freak and a coward.

I still think it's stupid. I still think I've put some petty gesture that no one will ever respect (if they can call you she they won't ever call you they) above my own safety. The thing that really struck me was that it didn't feel good. The reason I wrote it like that, I believe in hindsight, is that I was curious what those other kids feel like, because it must feel good to declare that you're a tr*nny d*ke in front of the entire class, good enough to beat the stomach-lurching dread that precedes such an action. But it didn't. It just felt like an unnecessary risk. And it made me feel worse, like there was a target on the back of my head.

I think I could talk about this forever, about how so many kids believe coming out is this thing you're required to do to be a good gay, but it's not. It's stupid stupid reckless, and in my case it ends with you getting fucked over.

But Ive written for ages and gotten prosaic halfway through so I'm gonna shut up. Basically why the fuck do you guys come out to everyone like please stay safe instead of this it isn't worth it.

[tokyoghoose]

am i more than you bargained for?

pairing: tetsuro kuroo x reader

playlist: heather - conan gray*, 4ever - clairo, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, melting - kali uchis, slow dancing in the dark - joji, using you - mars argo, she - ed sheeran, make you feel my love - adele, letter home - childish gambino, she's casual - the hunna, i love you so - the walters, notice me (acoustic) - role model, red dress - postcard boy

warnings: angst and lots of it, mentions of sex, mentions self-shaming of image, very breif mention of anxiety attacks

summary: a romantic comedy without the comedy between friends with benefits

announcements!

kuroo is definitely a little ooc in this lmao buuuut this is my first like fic fic in like two years. Im still trying to get back in the groove of things and finding how to write personality again and not be repetitive with my wording. Feedback is welcome!

requests are open! feel free to send them in! i will write for pretty much any anime ive seen and if i haven't seen it, ill watch it! the only reasons i wouldn't is if im uncomfortable or can't write the character. :)

——————

When did relationships become so difficult? The days of making friends on the playground were over and it seemed to hit everyone at the same age. Life was getting harder and people were getting older, and suddenly everything was difficult. Nothing came easy anymore and everyone had to adjust to that.

But now you were just confused.

Tetsuro kuroo stuck to you like glue since middle school. Where one of you went the other was likely to follow. The righthand man, the double trouble duo, and the bane of kenma's existence. And then things got complicated. Strangers to friends to best friends to lovers— friends with benefits. Who would've thought the boy that you played volleyball with on a whim would've become the man who you grew fond of. Sixth grade you would've kicked yourself for the feelings you're experiencing. Oh how you wished you were back in the park that started it all. You wished you could warn your youngerself what's to come.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you want to throw up at the thought.

It started in the first year of highschool when you suddenly noticed the shine in his eyes when he talked passionately about something like volleyball or the way he would furrow his brows when concentrated on his assignments. At first it was endearing, really. But the more you hung around him, the stronger the butterflies felt. It was obvious that he had grown into his lanky body. His legs were proportionate to his torso now and his once scrawny arms didn't hang limply at his sides anymore. He had muscle and height now. Gradually you started to notice little things about him that you would never have seen in other people. Like his lopsidded smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes and brought heat to your cheeks, your stomach launching into your chest when he'd bump shoulders and laugh.

You should've just smacked yourself silly then and there when you started to wonder if he noticed little things about you. Does he think of me like i think of him?

Who knew feelings could be so...perplexing. You moved on, shrugging off the crush in your second year to catch bigger and better fish in the sea. Life moved on and you dated other people, simply remaining friends with kuroo. Little did you know one heartbreak would lead you into his bed, playing in the sheets by the end of the year.

He was just so damn compelling. His laughter and his jokes. You fell for it all over again. Deja vu. Stupid kuroo.

———

The third of highschool had been the breaking point. It was a constant cycle of feeling, fucking, and falling in and out of love with the raven haired boy. It was frustrating, especially when he was so damn oblivious. The only person that seemed to catch on was kenma, but he was very little help when it came to pushing away the domestic thoughts. It would never just work out because you wanted it to because tetsuro was dumb.

It's a chilly day out, the sun nice against your skin but the wind was drastic in comparison. Shivers are sent up and down your spine, you wrap your arms around yourself in a hug. Could this boy take any longer? Foot tapping against the pavement, you heave a sigh, nostils flaring impatiently before you spot the tall athlete. With a girl. A girl?

You'd seen her around before and you vaguely remember thinking she resembled the main love interest in a 90s movie or a bratz doll. She's pretty and has a light, airy laugh. Kuroo must've told her a joke of some kind, but he definitely wasn't funny enough for her to have her hands all over his chest. He's giving her a toothy grin and soft eyes. It makes you want to gag.

Who was she anyway?

Not that it mattered because in that moment the fit of rage your body suddenly flug itself into prevented you from hearing anything. Kuroo's pulling off his pullover and drapping it over the pretty girl's shoulders. You can feel your eye twitch and fibgers tingle. He looks bashful as he waves her goodbye and tragically, you don't feel nearly as pretty as you had been feeling. Now all you wanted to do was sink into the ground below you and possibly into another dimension—or at least the other side of the world.

"She's pretty," is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when he comes over, slouching with his hands in the pockets of his shorts. He had practice this afternoon, you remember. He looks over at you with raised brows, almost like he's surprised yoy said anything or even noticed he was talking to another girl before walking towards the gym with you trailing close behind.

"Yeah she is, I guess."

She's prettier than me.

"You guess? Kuroo, you gave her your sweater."

He shrugs sheepishly, a light pink dusting his cheeks and it makes you mad of uncharacteristic the act is. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"It's just polyester. It's not a big deal."

The conversation suddenly drops as you pause, apparently very hurt that he didn't remember it was you who gave him the sweater in the first place. He turns around, a questioning look on his face.

"What? Are you jealous?" He teases.

You're fuming at his attempt to be playful. Maybe you were overreacting, but it pangs your chest to know he can brush it off so easily.

" Kuroo, that was my sweater. "

It's gritted through your teeth, eyes slotted into a glare and his face drops. Oh is all he can think as he stares at you and the hurt expression that quickly turns into that of annoyance and anger. You push past him, ultimately deciding not to walk him to the gym. His arm reaches out to catch you, but it falls short as he calls out in a whine, "I'll get it back for you, okay? Come on, y/n!"

———

You can't focus on the assignments in front of you no matter how hard you try. You are exsausted. Just wanting to crawl under the covers and sleep for maybe a thousand years, you stop tapping your oen against the paper to hyperfocus on the black dots that now littered the page. The music in the background pauses before coming back to life with the hum of a new song shuffling in. It's quiet and yet, it's overwhelming. You wish you weren't home alone now.

Hanging your head low on your desk, the carpet becoming of interest, you groan. The image of kuroo and that girl replaying in your head over and over like an endless movie. You'd have to give it a bad review if it ever ended.

You're focus is mainly on her though. Kuroo could get any girl he wants with his witt and charm. Not to mention he wasn't jusf handsome, but he's beautiful. Model material—movie character love interest type beat. He has the ability to make any heart swoon if he tries hadd enough, and that girl was no exception. She was more than pretty. She was stunning, even. It was like watching human barbie and ken flirt with one another. She seems so nice too and you can vaguely remember her helping you wish a couple answers on homework one morning. She's better than you and better for him. Is he sleeping with her too? Before you can answer your own question the doorbell rings, quickly followed by a knock at your door.

You look down at your pajamas, debating if you should pull on your robe or not, but ultimately deciding against it when the knocks come again.

"Im coming, I'm coming. What do you wan- kuroo?"

When you open the door, you immediately get the urge to shut it right in his perfect little face, and you begin to before his hand slams against it in protest to push it open wider. He juts out his lip into a pout and his eyes soften into ones pleading like a puppy dog. You huff and avoid eye contact, instead taking intrest in the bad he was carrying.

"What's that?"

"Stuff. I'd be happy to show you if you let me in."

"Sorry, tetsuro, no can do. You haven't returned my sweater. "

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before shoving something bulky into your arms. You're not sure if you should be happy he actually got it back or upset that he had to see her again to get it. Finally looking up at him, you move to the side so he can step in.

"You know, you don't have to be jealous that i gave another girl a sweater. You're my number one, y/n." He's teasing, but his words still send the butterflies in your stomach crazy. You can only hope he means it, even if just a little.

"I'm not jealous. You can sleep with whoever you want, kuroo. We're just best friends—if anything im your wingman. "

You want to hit yourself on the head. Why would you say that?

He snickers at the rebuttle, coming to loom over you. Apparently the only thing that can get you out of your head is his cologne because it somehow invaded your senses. He smells expensive, like nice leather and fire wood during the winter. It's very manly, you note. His shadow hovers over yours as he traps you between him and the counter with a playful smirk on his face. How smug could he get. He leans down, bringing your chin up between his thumb and finger. You hadn't realized how close he was until now. Since when did you get so nervous around him? Why did it make you nervous when he kissed you all of a sudden? It's unfair that he holds the advantage. Heat rises to your cheeks and the tips of your ears and you're positive he can hear the beating of your heart, which was currently trying to break out of your chest.

His lips take you to paradise, as always. Their soft against your own, yet firm. They're slightly chapped and they taste like spearmint. It makes your head fuzzy because they feel so right, even when you wish they felt wrong. You want to pull away and kick him out, and end thjs whole arrangement, but you're already very familiar with the fact it's just beginning.

———

The bed is warm. So warm, in fact, it feels like your suffocating. The sheets tangle around your limbs, strangling you as you tangle your limbs around kuroos. You almost want to cry, and if you were anywhere else— with anyone else —you probably would have. The heat is unbearable and the one sided tension makes your stomach churn and your throat tighten up. You were almost positve an anxiety attack was coming on.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you close your eyes as kuroo's nimble fingers soothe circles into your shoulder blade idly and yet somehow he manages to dodge the purple and red splotches blooming on the flesh. Suddenly you wish you didn't feel so safe and protected in his embrace. The moment almost tempts you to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, but you don't deserve to be the person who does that because you aren't his person. Best friend, maybe (next to Kenma, if anything) but, you aren't his person no matter how you long to be. You're just a friend in his bed having a good time. It isn't as fun anymore.

You swallow a lump in your throat, flattening your hand against his broad chest and willing yourself to lift up out of his grasp, his fingers falling smoothly to stop between your shoulder blades. Looking down at him, he presents you with the soft, goofy look on his face that he always adorns. God, there's nothing you wouldn't give to wake up beside him every morning and kiss that lopsided grin off his face. It hurts to think about, and another wave of tears try to force their way past your lash line. You blink them away and put on a soft, one-sided smile for the man below you, giving him a quick peck where his jaw and neck meet before shrugging his hands off and climbing out of bed.

His eyes track you, lazily hooded and watching, as you take the sheet with you to cover yourself, grabbing your shorts and whatever top you were wearing but a few hours ago before everything was strewn about. You shy away from his gaze, but it's nothing he hasn't seen before. He shifts in the bed to face your back, elbow propped up to lay his head in his hand. With an uncharacteristically soft tone, you almosf don't head him when he speaks. The words that come from him are like honey, yet raw. It's enough to make anyones knees buckle and crawl back into bed.

"Are you okay?"

There's a slight hint of concern there, just hardlg scrapping the surface of the question. You nod with a hum, throwing on the loose shirt before facing him. Kuroo's brow raises like he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn't take the question further and instead turns to get out of bed. You gnaw at your lip, taking your turn to watch him stretch out. His back has red streaks messily placed down it from his shoulders to the base, his biceps matching. His hair is messy and not like the normal bed head he sports, parts of it are spiked up from fingers constantly pushing through it, while other parts are laid flat from sweat. You can't help the thought that he's sculpted by the gods. They definitely took their time on him. Scoffing at yourself and shaking the thoughts free from your head, you head to the bathroom. As if the bed wasn't suffocating enough, just being the same room was found to be worse when he looks like that. At this point, it was preferred he stayed under the covers.

You feel stupid while looking in the mirror. Your mascara from earlier had smudged beneath your waterline, clumping together in the corner. Your nose curls at the sight, hands splashing cool water at your face, rubbing at your eyes. With a sigh you lean your elbows on the sink, pushing back hair and looking down at the water going into the drain.

This is ridiculous.

How on earth could you do this to yourself and to kuroo?

There's a knock on the bathroom door, it's light and gentle in the typical kuroo fashion because he doesn't want to spook you. You purse your lips, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes and heaving a sigh. As soon as you open the door and switch places, you're up and out of his apartment without saying goodbye.

The cool air of outside hits your face and you hadn't noticed the tears until the damp chill shook you. Brushing them away, you head home. You didn't want to be around him and you certainly didn't want to think about him. On the way back, you finally decided you weren't going to tell him anything. What would dumb tetsuro know about it anyway.

[astrochiron]

the signs :: my dear melancholy, // the weeknd

Aries & Libra- Hurt You

“And now I know relationships [are my] my enemy, so stay away from me; i’m warning you”

The opening lines of the song sets us up with Abel claiming that he’s over relationships; they hate him, he hates them, and he’s warning this girl of such before everyone gets hurt. His antagonization of the relationship and his aggressive tone exudes Arian energy. It also speaks from a place of independence and rejection of the “other”.

“When you're with him, you close your eyes and think of me

Just call me up again

I'll make you weak”

Abel goes on to talk about how the two of them share a special connection and even if she’s with someone else, he’ll always be on her mind. I’ve personally heard a Libra or two express this sentiment to someone. Libras are often amazing partners and great, attentive lovers, so his claim isn’t likely unfounded.

Overall

“Hurt You” takes on the perspective of both the woman (probably Bella Hadid) and Abel (The Weeknd), allowing for equal representation that expresses Libran fairness. He’s looking at how he doesn’t want to get involved with her again because he knows that he’ll just hurt her again. Plus, its focus on the relationship itself associates with Libra’s position as the sign of romantic connections. I think Arians are very honest with themselves and, at the end of the day, would rather do bad on their own then bring another in on their problems. This also pushes people away, leaving Aries to fix everything on their own. Plus he brags on his sex fame a bit, which is common from both of these signs.

Taurus & Scorpio- Privilege

“And I don't wanna hear that you are suffering

You are suffering no more

'Cause I held you down when you were suffering”

This line is super Taurean to me. Taurus is the sign of stability, support and comfort and Abel was saying he was all three for this person at one point. If anyone cares, this is specifically talking about how Selena Gomez was physically suffering and how he was a support system for her, even allegedly offering to donate a kidney for her when her own failed. This also connects with a Taurean’s tendency to take a lot of shit until they reach their breaking point, from which there is no return.

“And I'ma fuck the pain away, and I know I'll be okay […]

But I'ma drink the pain away, I'll be back to my old ways”

I’m not one to reduce Scorpio solely to sex but it is a large part of both it and Taurus’s main tropes. Scorpio seeks a deep connection and Taurus is centered around sensual pleasure. Abel seems to be using sex and alcohol as more of an escape, leading toward more Scorpio-like (and even Piscean) tendencies. It’s doubtful that these sensual pleasures and attempts at intimate connection will actually help, but he’s down to try.

Overall

“Privilege” is basically about facing the reality and aftermath of a break up. Scorpio is associated with death, including the death of a relationship and the aftermath afterward. Taurus focuses on living in reality with its Earth association. It’s all about the here and now, being stable and physically present which is shown with the physical ways Abel tries to patch himself up after his heartbreak. Scorpio, not he other hand, focuses on evolution and growth especially after a major upset like a break up.

Gemini & Sagittarius- Try Me

“Once you put your pride aside

You can notify me (-fy me), -fy me (-fy me)”

This reminds me of Gemini. They’re not too prideful when it comes to things they want. Gemini is often compared to school-aged ids and that’s very true when it comes to their motivations; no pretense or deep thought when its something they simply want. I can totally see them persuading a partner to be less pretentious; “C’mon, don’t over think this one. When you stop being so honorable, let me know.”

“Havin' thoughts you never had, yeah”

This line reminded me of Sagittarius’s ability to make things more logical or philosophical, seemingly the opposite of Gemini’s simplcity. They’re good at pushing their ideas for their own benefit, making the woman have thoughts she never had in the first place.. “I mean it’s not really cheating if you and I don’t kiss; no emotions involved. Besides, you’re not married so you’re technically single,” or “I mean what’s the actual definition of cheating?”

Overall

So “Try Me” is basically Abel telling this girl to leave the guy she’s with now and try him out again. I’m so sorry if this offends y’all (I’m not sorry, really), but it instantly reminded me of both Sag and Gemini. I’m a Sag moon and I know how… calculated we can be with these matters. Gemini represents all things familiar and things you’re pretty well-versed in due to repetition and what screams that more than having sex with an old fling?

Cancer & Capricorn- Wasted Times

“And what they got that I ain’t got? Cause I got a lot”

This is a line that someone who likes to provide for others would say. Both signs are concerned with protection and providing, Cancer wanted to nurture and provide emotionally while Capricorn shields and provides physically. It screams, “I took care of you and I gave you all i had; what can he give you?”. This also speaks to the Capricornian tendency to compare status.

“I ain’t got no business catching feelings”

Cancers are super stubborn when it comes to trusting and letting others in, especially romantically. It’s all to do with that crab shell that protects them from harm. They have no time to catch feelings cause when they do, it’s insanely deep. This is the same for Capricorn, really, as they (GASP) change their future plans for those they love and hate fucking with their vision for those who aren’t serious.

Overall

“Wasted Times” is about Abel being a highly publicized relationship with Selena Gomez, the operative Capricornian word being “publicized”. Abel hates to think he publicly linked his name with someone that he considers as wasted time. Both Cancer and Capricorn is all about time too; Cancer will lament on time wasted, saddened by past mistakes and Capricorn won’t even let you waste their time, focusing on the future.

Leo & Aquarius- Call Out My Name

“You’re on top, I put you on top I claimed you so proud and openly, babe”

Aquarians are almost as secretive as Scorpios especially when it comes to associating themselves with people. Aquarius re-prioritized and even claimed her publicly, both being a big deal. Putting the one you love on top is also such a Leo trope, too; love before all, even self.

“Why can’t you wait ’til I fall out of love?”

This line is pretty self centered which tend to associate with (all fixed signs but especially) Leo and no, that’s not always a bad thing. Leos and Aquarians both don’t like when people don’t react the way they planned or in the way that’s most beneficial toward them. He simply wanted her to wait to move on until he was ready to move on himself, now is that too much to ask? To a normal person, hell yes.

Overall

“Call Out My Name” starts the album expressing how Abel is putting way more into the relationship than the other party. Every single person with heavy Leo placements that I’ve known have hearts bigger than Volkswagen Beetles, so they tend to give their relationship 250% even if the other person is only capable of 19%. This also gives a brief look into the often irrational and deep feelings that Aquarians claim they don’t have.

Virgo & Pisces- I Was Never There

“Now I know what love is and I know it ain’t you for sure

You’d rather [have] something toxic, so I poison myself again, again”

This is the line that secured this song as Virgo for me. Abel aways equates women or the pursuit of them to drugs and the fact that he knows how unhealthy the relationship is shows a Virgoan awareness as well a Piscean tendency to ignore such awareness. He’s resorting back to what he knows, the tried true method of coping, so he can feel better.

“I'm on the edge of something breaking

I feel my mind is slowly fadin'

If I keep going, I won’t make it”

These lines at the end of the song, again, point toward the Virgo-Pisces axis. Virgos are hardworking to a fault. They, like Abel, do what they can until they’re completely spent. Pisces will put forward energy they don’t even have to help boost those around them. Both of these methods are unhealthy and ultimately self-destructive. If he keeps putting all his energy into this thing and she keeps sucking it up without reciprocity, he simply won’t make it, or at least they won’t.

Overall

Well I immediately pegged “I Was Never There” as Pisces and since there were only six songs, Pisces’ sister had to come along too. It does fit though! Virgo and Pisces both are mutable signs and this song is specifically discussing the end of a relationship. Mutable signs bring on the ends of their respective seasons are associated with destruction, critique and moving on. He turns to drugs and other unhealthy escapist shit to get over the relationship which, stereotypically enough, is associated with Pisces.

check your moon sign (for the song that makes you comfortable and puts you in your emotions), sun sign (the song that makes you happy and the one you ride around to) and venus sign (the one that speaks to your inner artist). the whole album is a no-skip™ for me. treat yo self.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Forecast's for Bitches

Prompt by: @smodernlife : I just got caught in a rainstorm I should have been prepared for and now I'm loving the idea of Cas and Dean in a rainstorm and Cas refuses to share his umbrella and raincoat because "if you insist on making fun of my weather preparedness you shall suffer the consequences".

Except, this isn't a rainstorm. It's just rain.

***

"For fuck's sake, Cas," Dean groaned, glaring at his boyfriend, as the rain flattened his hair unbecomingly, as it bounced off of Cas's stupid Oscar-Wilde-quotes umbrella to hit Dean precisely on the head. "You're in a trenchcoat, and you have an umbrella." He sucked in a breath. "I have neither. Sharing is caring."

"Dean," Cas declared, definite and smug. "Despite what they taught us in preschool, sharing - at least, right now - is to spoil you by encouraging your deprecating sarcasm. Not making fun of my weather preparedness is caring."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean blinked, and raised his arms in annoyance. "I'm getting soaked, and you want to nag me for making fun of you, instead of being a gentleman and protecting my ass from the rain!"

"When the rain threatens to kidnap you and somehow doubles your student loans, I promise to intervene for the sake of your ass." Cas shot back, sure of mind. "And, by the way, hand over your phone and wallet."

Dean feigned shock. "You won't share your umbrella with me, and you're trying to mug me?"

"Your possessions shouldn't have to pay the price for your assholery towards my weather-cautious attitute," Cas elaborated, and pocketed the articles Dean handed over submissively. "So, I'll keep your things safe. You, on the other hand, are encouraged to get drenched in the rain, Dean."

"You're such a dick, why do you also have to be McWordy Worderson?" Dean whined, kicking a pebble, and continuing to walk - still getting drenched from the downpour, his clothes sticking to his skin.

"You calling me that just brought the already marginal chances of me giving in, down to nil." Cas stubbornly informed Dean, earning himself another ferocious roll of his eyes.

"Marginal, my ass." Dean muttered. "You were so not gonna give in yet. I know you, Cas, I've been dating your stubborn-frigging-ass for too long."

It was Castiel's turn to roll his eyes. They went on walking, Cas comfortably holding the umbrella over solely himself while Dean drudged along his side.

"By the way, would you be okay with me finishing my draft before we resume watching -" Cas had begun, perfectly casual, but Dean glared at him incredulously.

"What, you think you can just make conversation, right now?" He barked, at the slightly smirking man. "The least I can do to retaliate is take away your privilege of getting to talk with me."

"You're not supposed to retaliate to my retaliation, you're supposed to learn a lesson." Cas informed Dean, pursing his lips.

"Oh, is the lesson going to be that death from pneumonia is painful as fuck?" Dean mocked.

"I have faith in your immune system, Dean." Cas simply replied, looking utterly pleased with his boyfriend's predicament.

Dean huffed.

"And what about the fact that I'm wet and getting wetter by the second, honey?" He egged on.

"I like the sound of it." Cas deadpanned.

"Cas, you dirty sonuvabitch," Dean couldn't resist. "But I didn't mean for you," He teased. "What about the girls who're gonna see me all drenched and faux-naked and alone, since clearly if I were walking with my boyfriend who has an umbrella, I wouldn't be in this state, and what if they offer me a ride or their coats or -"

"I have an umbrella." Cas stopped him. "And I won't hesitate to use it."

"You can use that thing to poke away kind, helpful chicks who approach me, but not to provide me shelter?" Dean protested.

"Exactly." Cas agreed, unperturbed.

"That's it." Dean grumbled. "I'm not talking to you."

Cas gave him a look. "You propose we walk home in silence?"

Dean, true to his word, didn't reply. He took a longer step than usual to cross a puddle, and focussed his attention on the ground solely.

"Alright." Cas said, partially annoyed. "Let's not."

There was silence for barely a moment before Dean spoke up again.

"Where's the fun in me bitching about you, if you're not here to listen to it?" He declared.

Cas nodded.

"And, for the record, I propose that we walk closer - near enough to share the umbrella and then I propose you kiss me under it." Dean crossed his arms on his chest, a drenched mess now. A stray droplet landed on his forehead, and trickled down the left of his face.

Cas narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you try to be -"

"What? That wasn't seductive or anything." Dean excused himself before he'd even been accused. "You mind me being a cliche lover of romantic tropes, now?"

"No, I like that fairly." Cas scoffed. And then, on a seemingly unrelated note, he went on. "You know, you haven't even apologized yet." Cas finally admitted

"What for?"

Cas gave him the universal in-a-relationship look for If I have to tell you, you don't deserve to know.

"Is this still about the stupid weather forecast thing in the morning?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together in a frown. "Or, are you projecting? Is this a bigger issue? A larger dick move on my part?"

A car zoomed past them. Dean got splashed, and swore at it. Cas was already speaking.

"No, this isn't something big. The 'stupid weather forecast thing' is all this is about." Cas sounded offended. "It's that small. If something is of the slightest import to me, you cannot - you can't just up and diss it, Dean."

"Oh -"

"I don't enjoy being mocked. And it isn't as if I was cancelling a wedding because my horoscope said so. I was carrying an umbrella because the news said it'd rain. Meteorology is a science."

Dean was taken aback. There was silence for a while.

"Can I just say that I honestly didn't know it meant a single thing? If I was a jerk, which I bet I was, now that I think of it - I'm sorry. Won't happen again. I didn't mean it like that." He finally uttered, in a rush, sounding embarrassed, and genuinely sincere.

"I know, Dean," Cas nodded. "That's why I'm not 'mad' mad."

"You're stuck in the 'passive-aggressive' mad zone." Dean helped.

"Just like you're eternally stuck in the not-exactly-but-somehow-an-assbutt mode." Cas served back, continuing to walk.

"Exactly like that, yeah." Dean grinned, the temporary drop and the tension resolved. "Hey, so, that being said and sorted..?"

"I suppose we could follow through with before mentioned kiss in the rain." Cas was being a little shit on purpose, Dean recognized the humor in his tone, and leaned in nonetheless.

Just as Dean was close enough to be sheltered by the umbrella, he was close enough to be pulled right up against Cas. With a hand on his back, almost against his skin through the layers of fabric, Cas shuddered, and almost pulled back. "Whoa, you're soaked."

"You're the one doing laundry," Dean retorted. "I'm gonna stink of rain."

"Rain doesn't -" Cas pulled back to say, but Dean closed the gap, putting one damp palm on Cas's face, to position them correctly. Their lips fit against each other familiarly, soft brushes and swirling tongues, and Cas held the umbrella over them as Dean held them together.

"You're more handsy than usual." Cas laughed, pulling away, his face almost as wet as Dean's, because Dean had made it a point to touch.

"What do you mean - I'm always into you, sweetheart." Dean winked, mischievously.

"You haven't found my forehead worthy of your attention in quite a while." Cas explained, smiling as well.

"That's a lie, I think you've got a really sexy one." Dean laughed, and Cas mirrored him. "You know, I had half a mind to pull away the umbrella and let you be the one getting drenched while you were caught up in the kiss. But," he dramatized. "It's like you held on to it on purpose. You have messed up priorities, Cas."

"I just anticipated it, because as you say, I know you, I've been dating you for too long. And, choosing to hold the umbrella over you was a one-time-thing, I promise." Cas told him, sliding an arm around his waist, wet or not. They resumed walking, and well, Cas' had always been a generous, forgiving spirit. He shared the umbrella, but kept it mostly over himself, because push comes to shove; two men, six foot tall and enough wide, cannot really share an umbrella that well.

*

The next time, Dean doesn't laugh at Cas for taking an umbrella and his coat on a sunny day, but it turns out to be one of the brightest days of the year.

The one after that, lesson forgotten, Dean has to actually walk the whole ten blocks home in the rain, while Cas doesn't deter from his promise to not share his Oscar Wilde quotes umbrella at all, even when Dean - admittedly adorably - swallows raindrops and tries to be endearing while skipping over a pothole. Castiel is a man of his words, with an awfully cute boyfriend.

***

Taglist alert: @ctrl-alt-destiel @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbisexual @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ladywaywarddsc I'm really sorry for the super-late fic, dear taglist! It's been a weird-ass month. Sadly enough, I dunno when the next one will be, though I'm constantly thinking up stuff :( Anyways, do leave a note, and maybe some words. Thank you for reading. Have an awesome day!

Edit: I realize the plot is kinda all about the place and doesn't make much sense now that I got it pointed out to me, but I'm gonna keep it posted just so because I need to get back to Trig. Just ~ if you don't like it, please don't read. I wrote after very long and I'm sorry if it sucks. Hope you smile.

[jungcock]

fatal attraction⎜05 (m.)

→ pairing: reader x jungkook (feat. taehyung)

→ genre: serial killer au, smut, angst

→ word count: 8.5k

Your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one.

→ warnings: unprotected sex, defloration, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of death and murder, major character death

→ disclaimer: myself and this fic does NOT condone the act of killing or the romanticisation of those who kill. if themes of violence, killing and/or stalking are triggering to you, please do NOT read this fic. 

→ author’s note: this update would not have happened without @kookingtae credit for my sanity goes to her.

↳ series m.list | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | ongoing

Three years, eight months ago

Despite the fact you were on your way to losing your virginity, you were seemingly more nervous to visit the Jeon residence for the first time. Jungkook drove in silence, leaving you to your thoughts. It was late, almost 10 pm. Would his parents still be up? Would you finally be able to meet them? Or would Jungkook sneak you in through the backdoor? Your thoughts settled on the fact that meeting a guy's parents for the first time and then fucking him for the first time moments later wouldn't be an ideal or realistic situation. You were sure Jungkook would avoid it.

You couldn't help but think why you had chosen tonight to be the night. You hadn't planned it but you had been thinking about it for a while. Maybe, having a banana milkshake that night instead of your regular strawberry had you thinking differently in all sorts of ways. After your first date in that motel room months ago and a few subtle instances of him shrugging you off, you were almost too scared to make the first move. Your confidence was weak. You wanted to have sex and you knew he did too but his self-control was strong. You didn't know what was different for him now, especially to suddenly confess he would die and kill for you. Maybe, ultimately, he simply had had enough abstaining.

You knew Jungkook came from money but you never expected his family home to be the most lavish villa you had ever seen. He snuck you around the back as you had expected but it was the quickest route to his bedroom—which was downstairs and attached to a young man cave. He had held your hand the entire way, squeezing it for comfort. But surprisingly, you didn't need him to—you weren't nervous or scared. Maybe, you should have been.

His bedroom was not what you had imagined. It was tidy, close to spotless. Framed pictures and trophies decorated his walls and shelves. It was well lit, despite it essentially being a basement. It goes without saying you waltzed straight over to the pictures.

"You want candles or something?"

You had picked up a frame, it was a picture of Jungkook and Namjoon as toddlers—perched on their father's lap. His father was in a suit and aviators, holding a fat cigar between the fingers of the hand wrapped around Jungkook. Setting the picture down, you chuckled to yourself thinking about how much he looked like a mob boss.

"Sure," you answered him.

He nodded before disappearing into his ensuite. You picked up another picture of Jungkook, he was little older than he was in the first picture, this time—kissing his mother. He was the cutest kid you had ever seen. You had to hold in a squeal.

"I could only find one," Jungkook announced, walking back into the room. "But it's scented so I hope that makes up for it."

It was incredibly sweet he was trying to create a romantic atmosphere—it was always the thought that counted. You smiled softly and he smiled back. You watched while he reached into his back pocket to grab his zippo and lit the wick with ease. After setting the candle on top of his dresser, he stood there staring at the flame.

"What scent?" you asked, strolling closer.

"Vanilla."

You nodded. There was a silence. What now? He seemed to be content just standing where he was. Was he having second thoughts? You were suddenly nervous and it made your palms sweat. Were you supposed to just... pounce on him? Why could he never make things easy for you? You looked over your shoulder, back to the pictures you were admiring.

"You were an adorable kid," you grinned. "I'm almost mad you didn't show me pictures before."

He chuckled, finally turning to face you. "You do know that's the mother's job, right?"

"Yeah, if I ever meet her," you mumbled unintentionally. You didn't want an argument but the words just fell from your lips before you had a chance to stop them.

His shoulders slumped. "Princess—"

"It seems like you have a really special relationship with her. I can tell by the pictures... it's lovely," you interrupted him.

"I'd rather not talk about my mom when I'm about to fuck my girlfriend."

Your eyes bulged. "Right, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he sniggered, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer. He looked deep into your eyes, your pupils, your soul. "Have you done this before?"

"Yes," you lied shakily and you don't know why you did.

He raised an eyebrow at you. You had to avoid eye contact—anything for him not to see how fucking nervous you had become. He lifted your chin to look at him, denying you to hide.

"Ok," he replied sympathetically, knowingly. It was as if he heard your answer as no—as if he knew your answer should have been no.

When he kissed you, your nerves melted away. It was tender and slow and it felt like he was kissing you for the first time—the butterflies in the pit of your stomach made you feel like you were kissing him for the first time. In a waltz, he led you back towards the bed until your calves hit the end of it. Although, he didn't push you down as you had expected. He kept kissing you, passionately, running his hands all over your body but always returning to grip your neck. At one point you moaned into his mouth and he growled back at you. You didn't know if it was a virgin thing, or if it was just him, but you were already feeling wetness pool in your panties.

Lust and excitement took over and you tugged at his shirt—a silent plea for him to take it off. He obeyed and as he did so, so did you. His eyes roamed over your body in admiration and it gave you the confidence to slowly remove your bra. There was a fire in his eyes as his rough palms caressed your soft bare skin.

"So beautiful," he murmured before attacking your lips again.

Once you fell back onto the bed, Jungkook began slowly kissing every inch of you. He left a trail of wet pecks from your lips down to your cheek and neck—sucking until he found your sweet spot and earned a moan. You had never felt so turned on and he hadn't even properly touched you yet. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him as he moved his kisses down to your breasts.

"I've been dreaming about these for months," he growled before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking softly.

You keened, arching your back and lifting your chest into his face. He responded by switching nipples, licking and nibbling while his large hand cupped the other breast. Suddenly, he retracted from you, sitting up to tend your jeans. He popped the button undone before slowly shimming them down your legs and chucking them over his shoulder. Next were your panties and it made your heart race in anticipation. He fiddled with the flimsy straps before you eventually lifted yourself for him to pull down the lace and discard them with your jeans.

You were completely bare for him. His lust-crazed eyes drank in your figure as you laid there, hair fanned out across the bedspread in the shape of a halo, your cheeks tinged pink and your thighs clasped together. With his palms on your knees, Jungkook attempted to spread your thighs apart but found you resistant. He tried again, but you wouldn't budge. You trusted him, you wanted this but you couldn't help it, it was like a reflex. He sighed and rested his chin on your knees, sliding his hands down to cup the top of your thighs.

"Princess, if you're not ready, we don't have to."

You shook your head. "No, I want to!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"I just... I wanna be on top," you explained. "I want to control it."

You swore you saw Jungkook shiver.

"Fucking hell, you're so sexy," he exclaimed. "And I can just smell how wet you are."

"Oh, Jesus!" you cried, your hands flying up to cover your face in embarrassment.

Jungkook leaned down to pull your palms away. "And it's more delicious than the vanilla."

He gave you another kiss before climbing off of you to take off this pants. You sat up to watch as he shamelessly pulled down his underwear—his hard cock springing free. It was bigger than you had imagined, girthier. It was beautiful and you unintentionally squeezed your legs together. You were sure your eyes were the size of saucers as you began to worry how that could possibly fit inside of you.

"Lay down," you ordered after clearing your throat.

He sniggered and he what he was told, climbing onto the bed and lying down with his head propped up against the headboard. You crawled over to him, hovering over his body the same way he did to you moments ago. He was so much bigger than you, longer—you had to straddle his lower stomach in order to reach his lips.

After a few kisses, he looked up at you with wonder—eyes then flicking down to your drenched core against his lower abdomen. He smirked before mumbling against your lips, "I can feel how wet you are for me."

You groaned back into his mouth—automatically grinding your wetness against his navel. He reached into his nightstand, pulling out a small foil packet. You used his chest to push yourself up to watch him rip the packet open with his teeth. Your eyebrows furrowed before taking the slimy rubber off of him.

He frowned. "Wait, I always wear one," he protested.

You shook your head. "Not with me," you murmured.

A devilish smirk spread across his face before he shot up to kiss you, quick to push his tongue into your mouth. You chucked the unused condom over your shoulder and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently. He tried flipping you over but you counteracted, shoving his chest and making him flop back down. You hovered over him, his cock hard and leaking and it enticed you to settle yourself on it. You had no idea what you were doing and his tip missed your entrance, sliding up towards your clit. He sighed at the small contact and boosted your confidence. Soon, found your hips moving—your slick pussy sliding up and down his shaft. You moaned at the ceiling, enjoying the friction of his warm hardness.

You didn't get to enjoy it for long because the next thing you knew, you were on your back. Jungkook loomed over you, propping your legs open and steering his cock towards your entrance. You held your breath.

He pushed into you slowly, leaning over you to watch your reactions. You could tell he was being careful not to hurt you but it was impossible to ignore the strong burning. Your face contorted at the stretch and he froze. He kissed you softly as if to try to kiss the pain away. You giggled, stroking his clammy face.

"Keep going," you whispered.

He nodded, thrusting inside you all the way and releasing a sigh of relief. You felt so incredibly full, you couldn't describe the physical feeling in any other way. But having Jungkook inside you, apart of you, finally, made you feel so overwhelming content. You had each other completely, mind, body and soul.

When he gradually began pumping into you, little whimpers escaped your mouth. He seemed to inhale the sounds, his heavy breathing fanning over your face with your foreheads pressed together. While he focused on keeping a steady pace, you focused in on his face—the pure pained restraint and pleasure clear as day in his expressions.

"You ok?" he grunted, careful not to thrust particularly hard.

You nodded and he kissed you before sitting up and adjusting the position of your hips. This way you both watched as his length worked in and out of you, appearing slicker and wetter the longer he fucked you. You almost couldn't peel your eyes away, heart racing and cheeks flushing at the fact such a filthy sight was turning you on to the point of no return. The pain had almost completely subsided and you threw your head back, whimpering and moaning shamelessly.

Jungkook's grip on your hips became tighter. His thrusts gradually became faster and harder. You clawed at his forearms when his pace turned into a pounding, the bedposts banging against the walls. His tip was constantly hitting your sweet spot and it forced your eyes to roll back. The pleasure was like nothing you had ever experienced, your own fingers couldn't even come close to compare. Your moaning increased into screaming as the coil in the pit of your stomach pulled so incredibly taut you thought you might explode.

"Oh my god, Jungkook!" you squealed, whining and wriggling.

Sensing you were close to your end, Jungkook smirked and bent your legs to push them against your chest. He pounded you into the mattress, snaking a hand between your thighs to rub your clit. The coil snapped and you came with a scream. Your body jerked against Jungkook but he managed to control your body enough to keep ramming your convulsing hole. You were squeezing him so perfectly, he couldn't sense or foresee how close his own end was.

"____, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he rasped, "Oh, fuck!"

Suddenly, you felt empty and you let out a deflated sigh. Long spurts of cum splattered all over your stomach and chest. Jungkook hissed and growled and then yanked at his almost softening cock to shoot the rest of his load around your belly button. In a post-orgasm haze, you tapped at the pools of milky liquid and rubbed the substance between your two fingers. Jungkook watched you intensely as you popped a finger into your mouth to taste and giggled.

He chuckled to mask the chill that went down his spine before fishing off his bed for something to clean you up with. It was the black tee he was wearing that day and he had no hesitations to use it to wipe his cum off of you. Quickly after that, you both got under the covers and laid there silently, feeling completely satisfied and euphoric. You had finally done it. You had sex with Jungkook and it was everything you had wished it to be.

"I swear I last longer than that," Jungkook broke the silence after clearing his throat.

In the moment, you hadn't noticed but on second thought, it was quite fast. You hoped he wouldn't be too hard on himself because for you it was perfect. You were satisfied and for your first time, you didn't think you'd be able to go on that much longer.

You giggled, rolling over to drape your arms around his neck. "It's because I'm better than them," you teased.

He chuckled back. "Yeah, you are."

He leaned in for a big kiss, lazy and sloppy. When he broke away, he dived under the sheets and tried his utmost to settled himself between your thighs. You fought him off and then lifted the covers to confront him.

"What are you doing?!" you squealed.

He looked up at you with a smirk. "I'm taking care of you," he answered, finally wedging himself between your thighs.

He gave your clit a little kitten lick and you squealed, "JUNGKOOK, NO!"

He chuckled evilly before continuing to softly lap at your folds. You were so sensitive from your orgasm it was near torture and you tried to kick at him to stop. He held your legs down and licked a little softer. It tickled like crazy and you kicked and screamed and laughed like a maniac.

"Jungkook, please, please," you begged him as you wrestled through the sheets.

He stopped almost immediately and you tried so hard to straighten out the sheets to find him but to no avail. Instead, he yanked you under, attacking you with kisses until you were snorting from laughter.

Night after night, those sheets compassed you and Jungkook in your own little world of safety and comfort and pleasure—not even the red wine you spilt the week after was enough to tarnish those sheets.

*

Staring at the same red wine stain no longer gave you the feeling of safety and comfort and pleasure. You felt dirty staring at it, crumpled in the middle of the mattress. You were trying to be strong but felt so undeniably pathetic letting something as simple as a stain on a sheet weaken you. It was an awful feeling and it had you wholeheartedly doubting your ability to do what you had to do, what you came there to do—face him.

The shower was running. You could still leave and he'd never know you were there. You could run out of the room right that second and erase the possible encounter from your memory. That would be the easy thing to do, what you had been doing the last three years.

He turned the shower off. And despite the overwhelming sense of dread and anxiousness and panic that brewed at the pity of your stomach, you stood your ground. Three years of the easy way out was quite enough and your decision to stay gave you a strong sense of empowerment. You could do this.

When he walked into his bedroom, his eyes doubled in size seeing you waiting for him. You tried your best not to mirror his expression. He was half dressed. Water droplets from his hair cascaded down his neck. You didn't know if you could do this.

“____, I really didn't expect you here.”

You didn't expect to be there either. You got up early, careful not to wake the sleeping boys scattered around your bedroom floor. You didn't even take a shower. You were almost certain residue from last night’s makeup was on your face. You didn’t even realise the sweatshirt you chucked on was massive on you and Jungkook’s—which earned a questionable look from him. To say you didn’t think this through was the understatement of the century.

You weren’t in your right mind when you stole Taehyung’s car and drove yourself to a murderer’s house. After reading and attempting to process Jungkook’s text, you felt the overwhelming need to take matters into your own hands—to somehow try to fix it and to ultimately try to save your friends. As much as it panicked you to admit and accept—he still loved you and you could play that to your advantage.

However seeing him in such close proximity, shirtless, tattoos on full display, black and coloured, obnoxiously covering the majority of his skin, had you weak in the knees. It was fear that had you trembling—the fear of him and the fear of old feelings. You tried the utmost to avert your eyes, denying yourself to feel the attraction you still harboured towards him. Your hands shook as you mentally reprimanded yourself for not feeling completely disgusted by the sight of him. The fear quickly turned into anger.

“Neither did I,” you forced through gritted teeth.

Jungkook paced over to his dresser but instead of grabbing a shirt he picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one. You watched him and tried not to watch him at the same time, hugging yourself—unsure whether to take a seat or stand. He took a long drag, staring at you brazenly while your eyes darted around the room.

"You're upset," Jungkook stated.

"You upset me."

Upset, angry, awkward, uncomfortable—he made you feel all of them.

“I’ve missed you, I missed you every day,” he chuckled as if he felt ridiculous for saying it. "Although, you already know that from my unanswered letters. I guess I deserved it for not being honest with you. You've proved your point, it doesn't feel good to be left in the dark."

He was speaking with you so civilly that it shocked you into silence. He was acting as if the events of the night before never happened. Your sight finally landed on him, determined to try to understand how he could be anything other than as hostile as he was less than 24 hours ago. Surely, your surprise visit wasn't enough to sway his bad intentions.

“I didn’t get your letters,” you stated matter-of-factly, “until just recently.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped at the information. “Oh,” he replied dejectedly, “did you read them?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. What was he playing at? It was like he still cared—like he still had feelings other than resent and anger and a deranged obsession with you. You would have taken pity on him if he hadn’t threatened to kill all of your friends the night before.

“No,” you lied out of spite.

He sighed. “I guess there are some things we need to talk about, then.”

He was attempting to reconcile... as if the whole thing was just a small miscommunication. You couldn't believe his audacity. He was delusional to think there was anything to redeem between the two of you. You weren't having it. You wouldn't let him indulge in the hope.

“I'm not here to talk about us, Jungkook,” you told him harshly.

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t believe you. “Then why are you here?”

You looked back at him incredulously. “Why the fuck do you think I’m here?”

He cocked an eyebrow at the bed presumptuously. “You haven’t asked me to put a shirt on,” he added.

You could have punched him. “Put a shirt on,” you ordered flatly, barely controlling your rage.

He raised his hands up in surrender, sticking his cigarette in his mouth so he had both hands to rummage through his drawers. You instinctively exhaled in relief when he found a black tee and rolled it down his abdomen.

“Listen, I'm here because I want you to stay away from my friends," you revealed, approaching him with false bravery.

He kept his back towards you. “I haven’t seen you in three years and that’s all you have to say to me?”

“You fucking threatened to kill them.”

"I'm not going to kill them," he chuckled mockingly.

Your eyebrows knitted together. Your brain throbbed in confusion. He still wouldn't turn around to face you, as if your presence was now a burden and unwanted. Once upon a time, you would have yanked him by his shoulder and maybe even slapped him for his mocking tone. The fact you couldn't do it, the fact you were too scared to, only fueled your frustration.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that," you called him out, "after the stunt you pulled last night?"

"Yes," he answered, aggressively putting out his cigarette in the tray on his dresser.

"You're fucking insane," you scoffed, rubbing your temples.

Jungkook's shoulder's stiffened. You struck the right chord. In a flash, he turned to step into your face and screamed, “I’M NOT GOING TO KILL YOUR FRIENDS, ____.”

You should have cowered at his outburst, it made sense to. But instead, you screamed right back. “THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THREATENED TO?!”

Jungkook sighed shakily through his rage. “You didn’t read my letters,” he almost explained to himself before turning back around to slam a drawer shut.

You flinched at the bang. You had no idea what he was on about but you refused to reveal you had read them. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Although, it did have you pondering whether he did explain some aspects of his actions in those letters apart from the one letter explaining he was his father’s personal hitman. You didn't remember anything noteworthy in regards to why he would subject himself to such a role and what that role entailed—but then again, you hadn't read them all. Regardless, that didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were talking to a deranged killer and that killer had your friends on his hit list. All that mattered was their safety and you had to ensure it.

"You kill people, Jungkook. You killed someone in front of me," you managed to choke out. "You can't blame me for not believing your threats are empty."

"They're not when it comes to business," he answered plainly. "This was personal so I take it back. Happy? You can leave now."

"That's not fair," you squeaked.

"What's not fair, ___, hm?" he mocked, "You came here to save your friends. You did that and now, you can go!"

You knew you shouldn't have let him get to you but he just did. This was the part where you would kiss him silly, reassure him it was just a stupid fight and you adored him too much waste a moment angry. You felt bad. You could still feel how much he cared for you. You could feel how disappointed he was that he didn't feel that care back—manipulation at its finest.

“It wasn’t easy for me, you know,” you called after him as he walked away from you and sat on his bed with his back turned, “I’m sure you think so. I’m sure you think I’m one heartless bitch but what was I supposed to do, Jungkook?”

Your question lingered in the air. You stared holes into his back while he sat there, silent, with his head in his hands. When he finally lifted his head, he looked over his shoulder towards you. Your heart raced, forgetting how gorgeous his side profile was—you could have screamed.

“Talk to me,” he replied.

You really could have screamed.

“Do you have any fucking clue how scared I was of you? How scared I still am?” your voice wavered. “You murder people as a job. Not to mention you lied to me about it.”

“You know that’s not who I am,” he murmured, “You know me.”

“No, I don’t," you shook your head. "The boy I knew and fell in love with didn't kill people for his father's drug cartel. And I won't apologise for turning you in but I am sorry it had to be that way."

He scoffed. “Why do you have to remind me?”

“I think we’ve both done enough pretending, Jungkook,” you said softly.

“Why do you have to remind me,” he repeated, disregarding that you spoke, “that you betrayed me and that I should fucking hate you but—”

“Don't—”

He chuckled at the ceiling. "Enough pretending, huh?"

Your heart ached for him and how badly you wanted to somehow fix him. It was a toxic feeling and you wished you had recognised it as such the first time you felt it—all those years ago in that motel room. You wanted nothing more but to cower away but you stood your ground and said the bravest thing you had ever said in your life.

"I was so in love with you, Jungkook," you croaked unintentionally. "I couldn't sleep for weeks with your voice in my head, screaming to see me one last time and when I could sleep, I cried myself to sleep for months, fucking missing you and feeling so goddamn guilty!"

You didn't realise how distraught you were until your vision went blurry from the tears. Jungkook approached you slowly but stopped once he noticed you backing away at the same pace. You would have had a panic attack if he got any closer.

"I was so in love with you," you repeated through your sobs, "and you made me hate myself for it! You made me feel like there was something wrong with me! You do the most despicable, repulsive, most horrendous things a human being could do—you kill—and I loved you so much it hurt."

"____—"

"You put me in that position," you interrupted him with accusations. "You fucked with my head and my entire life. You ruined me. "

"We ruined each other," he retorted.

"I guess we did," you sniffled, trying to wipe and dry your face with your sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he said with complete sincerity—you could see it in his eyes.

You nodded and tucked your hair behind your ears so the strands wouldn't stick to your wet cheeks. "I don't think I have or will ever get over you, but I have to," you admitted. "Goodbye, Jungkook."

As you turned your back on him, a weight lifted off of your shoulders—you felt almost as if you were floating. This was it. You said your piece. You got your closure. Now, you could move on—or so you thought.

"____," he called softly, "you can still be with me. I would never hurt you."

The weight returned, heavy as ever. Your stomach sank. The desperation in his voice so crystal clear, so raw it could never be unheard or forgotten—something new to haunt you. Neither of you were pretending anymore. You were both being utterly vulnerable and it was petrifying. But, you had said your piece and you had to stand by it.

"It's not me I'm worried about," you uttered before desperately continuing to make your leave.

"You're with him, aren't you?" he muttered under his breath and it stopped you in your tracks. "Taeyang... Taehyung."

You looked over your shoulder at him and you wished you didn't. The fire in his eyes was raging and terrifying, almost demonic. You felt frozen in place as if his gaze turned you to stone. He always had the worst temper especially when it was brewed from jealousy. You knew this but you couldn't find the words to reassure him, you couldn't even find the words to lie.

You swore you heard him growl when you swiftly escaped out the door and slammed it behind you. You didn't realise you were holding your breath until a loud bang emitted and caused you to gasp. The second bang shook the closed door and was followed by deafening crashes. Every bang and crash vibrated through you, paralysing you. Your memories of Jungkook thrashing around in that interrogation flooded your thoughts, evoking utter trauma and sadness to the point of your knees almost buckling beneath you.

"God fucking dammit, Jungkook! Don't destroy everything, for fucks sakes! I want those pictures of Mom—"

Namjoon halted his march when he saw you frozen in front of his brother's bedroom door. You wished you had the strength to slip away as soon as you heard him coming. Yet, your legs betrayed you and here you were, face to face with the person who started this nightmare.

"____, what a pleasant surprise!"

Somehow his radiance of arrogance and terribly masked hostility made you roll your eyes and shocked your body into movement. You pushed past him, ignoring his calls for you and didn't look back until you were in the safety of Taehyung's Aston Martin. Your hands were shaking against the steering wheel so you took a minute before driving off. Jungkook's eyes, the way that his stare bored into your soul, full of contempt and heartbreak and clear envy towards the boy who owned the car you were sitting in, haunted you. You just couldn't respond at the accusation he fired at you—his words now playing in your head over and over like a broken record. And as you sped onto the road you realised you said nothing, not one word because... you didn't know yourself.

*

"Hey, are you all wrinkly and gross yet?"

"Like a 90-year-old woman!"

You heard Taehyung chuckle from the other side of the bathroom door. The deep rumbling sound comforted you, confirming he hadn't heard the rasp and crackle in your own voice from crying. You had been crying for the last two hours while your naked body soaked in steaming hot water. The water now lukewarm, you had just managed to control your sobs and put on a brave voice for the boy who was checking up on you. The boy who would always check up on you, in the worst moments like he had a sixth sense for when you were upset. God, how you wished you'd fucking stop burdening him with your bullshit.

"So," he began, softly thumping his forehead against the bathroom door, "you went to see him?"

You went silent. You weren't ready for the grilling that would follow a response. All Taehyung could hear was water sloshing and he sighed.

"I understand why you did it," he continued, "but I just wish you would have told one of us."

"You would have stopped me."

This time, it was his turn to be silent. You heard him sigh again and then slide down the door to sit. As much as you normally wouldn't want to have this conversation—words flowed out of your mouth.

"I had to, Taehyung," you explained, "I couldn't let him come after you, any of you."

"I know, darling," he huffed.

Darling. That was new. But surprisingly, it didn't send your thoughts spiralling into a whirlwind of what it meant and what it meant to your relationship. Your head was too filled with Jungkook.

You grunted. "It's just so crazy to me how I could be so in love with someone for so long... and at the same time feel like I didn't know them at all."

"What did you guys... talk about?"

You sighed. You could tell he was speaking carefully, wanting to know what happened but wary you could shut him out at any time. Jungkook had always been a touchy subject but now, you felt ready.

"Us, the boys, you," you summarised.

"Huh," he acknowledged you as casually as possible—as if not to push it.

"He wanted to get back together..."

You heard Taehyung's shuffling around on the floor. His interest peaked at the confirmation you were willing to share. "And what did you say?" he prompted you.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No, of course! Why would you even ask me that?!"

"The last time we talked about him... it seemed..." he paused and you braced yourself, "it seemed as if presented with the chance... you might take him back."

"That's offensive," you deadpanned.

"There's nothing wrong with loving someone and wanting someone, ____."

Where the fuck was this coming from? Was he really encouraging feelings that tormented you? "He's a fucking murderer, Taehyung."

"You can't help the way you feel though, ____. I didn't judge you then and I won't judge you now for still caring for him."

You knew his words were supposed to relieve you but they only made you angry. "I don't," you said through gritted teeth.

Taehyung chuckled at your childlike stubbornness. "You can lie all you want to yourself but you can't lie to me."

"Why are you saying this?! Why are you putting these stupid ideas in my head? You're acting like I'm supposed to be with him when I'm supposed to be with—" you.

Even a closed door between the two of you couldn't ward off the tension. He didn't respond. And in his silence you thought, you and Taehyung couldn't be. His silence meant he didn't want you anymore—not only because of the pact but because of your mess of emotions and feelings towards this other man that rudely strolled back into your life. You thought, surely, Taehyung respected himself enough to not respond, to not get involved with you in that way. With this presumptuous realisation, you cleared your throat and decided to change the subject.

"I told him to stay away from you guys and he actually agreed," you almost chuckled. "Sometimes the long shots pan out, huh?"

"And you believe him?" he said softly, you almost didn't catch it through the closed door.

"I do... I mean I think so? God, I'm so sorry I brought you all into this awful fucking mess," you wailed, burying your face into your wet hands.

"No, no!" Taehyung exasperated, "Don't, please. I was stupid to question you. You put your neck out to protect us and we're so fucking lucky to have you. Don't you dare be sorry. We're gonna be ok. Please don't worry and please don't cry again."

Again?

"You heard me before?" you questioned painfully.

He sighed. "It was hard not to. It sounded like you needed it so I left you to it... which was harder."

You wanted to apologise again but you knew that would just upset him more. "Surely, you're used to me crying by now," you said, trying to make a joke out of it.

"It will always hurt to see or hear you cry," he admitted softly.

"God!" you exclaimed.

"That cheesy, huh?" he chuckled back.

"No," you shook your head, despite him unable to see, "sweet."

He groaned. "Just bury me a few feet deeper into the friend zone, why don't you?"

You laughed. "You the one prompting me to talk about my insane ex who I supposedly still want to be with!"

"Look, I'm not particularly enjoying that conversation but I want you to talk to someone about it and I know you won't talk to anyone without a little push," he explained.

You went quiet.

"____?" he called out after you didn't respond after a minute. "You've been quiet about this for three years, don't you think it's time?"

He was right. You stared at the faucet of the tub, sifting through your thoughts, attempting to unjumble them into sentences you could speak. It took you another minute or so.

"It was really hard seeing him today. I mean, last night was hard too but... that Jungkook wasn't my Jungkook. I saw my Jungkook today and saying goodbye to him might have been the hardest thing I've ever done."

Silent tears streamed down your face. You were thankful Taehyung couldn't see you.

"He was exactly how I remembered him, minus a few tattoos, and fuck me, I felt this weird attraction and I just couldn't fucking shake it. It was like I was fighting with myself to not act exactly how we once were. But, in my defence, how are you even supposed to act in that sort of situation? Especially when he was acting so... himself, just... angry and hurt. It felt so weird not to reach out to him and console him and makeup with him to the point where I didn't even know how to stand and hold my arms. It felt wrong and unnatural to leave him like that... Fuck, I'm just as insane as he is."

"No, you're not," Taehyung reassured you.

"I hate that he still haunts me. I hate that he's still in my fucking life."

"____, you never had that chance to say goodbye. It's normal to feel this way. You essentially pressed paused on your grieving process. You never had closure, Jesus, you never even had a proper breakup fight. Of course, it's going to feel weird but trust me, you'll get through this."

You were appreciative of his words, you really were. But as you laid there in, now, cold water staring at the ceiling—only one thought flowed through your mind. One thought that you believed, if actioned, could have prevented this entire emotional crisis.

“I should have just let you fuck me last night.”

You pretended not to hear the back of his head thud against the door.

*

When you eventually got out of the bath, Taehyung had set up a movie and had snacks sprawled across your bedspread. As gorgeous as the set up was, it was the boxy grin he gave you that was the icing on the cake. You crawled on the bed, pecking him on the cheek before slipping under the covers.

"Just us tonight?" you queried as before you had taken your bath, all four boys were lazying around your bedroom.

"Hoseok's coming in an hour or so," he replied. "Yoongi and Jimin want their own beds tonight."

"That's fair," you giggled. "You're all gonna be walking around with hunched backs like old men if you keep sleeping on my floor."

"We don't mind the floor!"

"Yeah, of course, you don't," you retorted, "you cokehead."

"Hey!"

You giggled again and Taehyung let you, just happy to hear you laugh. Although, you were right. He was always so faded it really didn't matter to him where he'd crash. And somehow, he'd always bounce back the next morning, unphased and unaffected by the uncomfortable sleep and substances from the night before.

"So, I'm guessing you told them Jungkook isn't coming for them?"

He nodded. "And they increased their security, just in case."

You groaned. "Please don't say that."

"Sorry, I thought that might have put you at ease a little more," he said, apologetically.

You shook your head as if to say it was fine. He gave you a small smile before starting the movie. You had trouble focusing on it. All you could think about was Taehyung's safety. If Jungkook was to go back on his word, it would be Taehyung he'd come after. The more you thought about it the more you believed it to be probable. You left Jungkook in a distraught state with Taehyung's name on his lips. Chills spread through you, to the bone and you were so grateful Taehyung decided he could go another night without his own bed.

Half an hour into the movie, your eyes became droopy. Taehyung had rolled onto his side and you took the opportune moment to spoon him, so tightly he let out a squawk and a chuckle. You wouldn't let go, you wouldn't even relax your grip to let him wriggle. He noticed the third time he tried to change his position.

"You good?"

You hummed.

"Um, do you think you can let me breathe then?"

"Taehyung," you sighed, "you just gotta let me do this, ok?"

He sniggered and then nodded, "Ok."

*

As you fell asleep, you had continued to hold onto Taehyung so tightly. You had to ensure he wasn't going anywhere, to ensure he wasn't leaving you, to ensure he wouldn't be taken from you. As you drifted off, you had felt a horrible sense of dread at the pit of your stomach that you couldn't shake. In the middle of the night, when you felt nothing but linen where Taehyung was supposed to be—it was safe to say that dread was amplified by a million.

Hoseok was sleeping on the other side of you, he must have snuck in right after you had drifted off. You woke him up with a frantic slap, you were aiming for his back but in the dark, you’d hit his head. Reflexively, he kicked you right back and groaned in annoyance.

“Hobi! Wake up, where's Taehyung?!” you fired at him.

After a few long seconds, Hoseok stirred awake. "What?" he replied groggily, "He's probably taking a piss."

You whipped the blankets off of you and jumped out of bed as if you weren't sound asleep minutes ago. When you saw the bathroom door wide open and the light off, you began to panic.

"No, he's not Hoseok!" you screamed, pure hysteria in your croaky voice.

Hoseok did his best to come to, slowly rising from his pillow and rubbing his eyes. "____, calm down. He probably couldn't sleep and went outside to smoke."

You shook your head frantically. "No, Hobi! He always wakes me up for that."

Hoseok sighed and sat up, ready to humour you and engage in the search for Taehyung—who was, in Hoseok's mind, most likely raiding the fridge. You, however, were convinced he wasn't. You just had a feeling something was terribly wrong. You ran over to your nightstand to grab your phone. No texts, or missed calls. He always texted or called. Something was definitely wrong.

"____," Hoseok called to you.

You turned to him to see him on his phone, his eyebrows furrowed and you could tell it wasn't because of his phone's brightness.

"Get dressed," he commanded, "I know where he is."

*

It was 3 in the morning. The only reason you had paid attention to what time it was was that in darkness it lit up neon red on the dashboard of Hoseok's car. After hounding him to tell you what was going on to no avail—all you could do was stare at the little red numbers. You had no idea where you were going, no idea where Taehyung was and no idea why Taehyung left your side in the middle of the night.

You tried your best not to think about how scary the situation was. Hoseok knew you well and even though it aggravated you for him to decide to not tell you anything for the time being—you trusted him. He was keeping quiet for good reason. Maybe he didn't even have all the answers? So, you kept your questions at bay, content with the fact you weren't having a full-on panic attack. But, oh how you felt it brewing.

You knew the apartment complex Hoseok pulled into. You'd been there many times it was like another home, familiar. What wasn't familiar was the police cars parked outside, blocking off the entrance. You didn't wait for the car to come to a complete stop before you bolted out, ignoring Hoseok's calls for you. You ran into the lobby and with shaky hands hit the button for the elevator repeatedly. When it finally came you hit the button for the penthouse suite and assaulted the button for the doors to close before anyone saw you sneak into a crime scene.

It was a crime scene. When you got to the top floor you were met with yellow tape and officers hanging around. Your heartbeat was fast and loud in your eardrums, drowning out any other sound, drowning out the police officers questioning you as you stormed into the apartment you had been in a hundred times before.

You didn't know what to think. All you felt was overwhelming dread and horror as you paced frantically around the open planned living room and kitchen—trying to figure out what was going on and hoping not to see the worst. But even if it was the worst, your brain would deny believing. If anything it all felt like a bad dream—none of it made sense.

An officer eventually got a hold of you, grabbing you by the arm. "Ma'am, you can't be in here, this is a crime scene," he informed you, trying to drag you off.

"No, no, this is my friend's apartment," you argued, still terribly confused and petrified.

"You still need to leave, ma'am," the officer said, trying to haul you away again.

"No!" you screamed, fighting him for your arm back.

"It's fine, she can stay!"

You had never felt so grateful to hear a voice in your entire life. You were so relieved, you immediately started crying. He was sitting on the couch in the dark as still as a statue and you ran over to him. Having walked past that same couch in your panicked state, his stillness seemed to have camouflaged him into the furniture. When you crouched in front of him, he still didn't move. He just looked at you and through his dead eyes, you saw anguish.

"Taehyung?" you called to him softly through your tears.

He didn't respond and it prompted you to reach out to him, to grab his wet hands. Your stomach sunk. You dived for the lamp and when the light shed upon him, you forced down a dry heave. He was covered in blood.

"Oh my god!" you cried, frantically feeling him for his wounds. You began hyperventilating, calling someone, anyone for help but the words got lost in your heavy breathing. He was so pale and judging by the amount of blood covering him, he must have lost a lot. Why was no one helping him? You were trembling. You tried to lift his shirt to find the source of the bleeding but suddenly, Taehyung grabbed a firm hold of your hands.

"____," he croaked with pure heartbreak in his eyes, "it's not my blood."

You fell back onto the coffee table. At that moment, you swore time stopped. You don't know how you found your footing, but you managed. You headed straight down the hallway thinking, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom.

"No, ____," Taehyung called after you desperately, "you let me explain! YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT—”

The bedroom was crowded but you spotted a familiar face. He spotted you too, almost immediately and tried to usher you out. You protested, holding him at arm's length, searching his body for any blood or wounds through teary eyes. When you were confident he was ok, you buried your face into his chest.

“Seokjin,” you whimpered. “What the fuck’s going on?!”

He hushed you, rubbing your back. He wanted to tell you, he really did. But the fact you were so distraught already had him second-guessing telling you, almost never wanting you to know. But, of course, he couldn't shelter you from everything—especially not this.

“I’ll explain everything,” he murmured, looking over his shoulder at the bathroom door and continuing to try to push you out of the room. “We just need to leave this room first, ok?”

“Why—”

A man, an officer, a detective emerged from the ensuite with a bang. The door always banged against the wall if you pushed it just a little too much, but he wouldn't know that. This was a stranger’s apartment to him, to all of them and they were the ones to make you feel like the stranger, the intruder.

“Sir, please take her outside. We can't have you both in here— ____?”

The detective was Choi Seunghyun. You were surprised he even remembered you but then, your brain quickly connected the dots. You could have puked all over his coat and turtleneck ensemble. You could feel the blood drain from your face, you could feel yourself turn pale.

The detective had left the bathroom door wide open and staring into his concerned eyes you could see him realise his mistake. When you saw the owner of the apartment, the shock sent your whole body into numbness and caused white noise to deafen your ears. His naked body was lying on the tile, limp and contorted unnaturally. He was mutilated and soaked in blood, the red even streaking through his blonde hair—Min Yoongi's blonde hair.

You hit the floor screaming. Jin tried to haul you up again but you refused, whacking at his arms as he tried to lift you. Within seconds, Taehyung was behind you with his arms and legs enveloping you as you cried and screamed and cried. You had never before felt your heart break and crumble the way it did in that moment.

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