#because he had no lines in the song and barely ever performed it with them.

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 1 of 2)

4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You thought working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club would just be a way to make some easy money - you didn't expect to meet him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Private room shenanigans, longing, ref to f!masturbation, nicknames as always, reader is a single parent (mentioned briefly in the this part), TF boys make a quick appearance!

A/N: In this part, reader only knows Frankie as "Francisco", but for the purpose of the narrative, I refer to him as Frankie most of the time. This came out of nowhere and I wrote it in one day instead of editing the next chapter of SwY 🫣 procrastination fics are a thing, right? Barely proofread, please excuse all my mistakes!

Series Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰 The moodboard Frankie pic is from Pinterest but after a wee bit of sleuthing, I believe it’s a screen grab from this gifset by @uuuhshiny - please correct me if I’m wrong!! 😊

Swaying seductively to the club’s upbeat remix of an old school RnB song you’ve always loved, you hit each bass beat with a little pop of your hip so that you lightly knock your knees into the widespread thighs of the man whose legs you’re dancing in between.  The combined movement lends a little bounce to your naked tits, and as you raise your arms above your head and continue to move to the music, you have to bite your lower lip to prevent from smiling and chuckling.  Even with your eyes closed, you know the man’s large, calloused hands, ever respectful of the private room’s ‘No Touching’ rule, are spread, straining with superhuman restraint and digging into those same meaty thighs that you keep rubbing against.  You might be doing it on purpose.  Afterall, the rule is that he can’t touch, but you can.

Trailing your fingers down through your hair, then down, down along your face and neck until you reach your chest, your hands grab and grope your breasts the way you know the man before you wishes he could.  Letting yourself pretend that your desperate touches are his, you let out a little whimper that’s meant to try his resolve.  As you bend your knees while rolling your hips, the lascivious show you’re putting on is lowered to his eye level, and you continue to palm your tits, rolling and pinching your nipples between your fingers – pretty peaks hardening as the fan of his heavier than usual breath hits them just right.  You know you’re being terribly teasing and unfair, but here in this dimly lit room, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, you’ve never felt safer.  Or sexier.  And it’s all because of this man.

Francisco.

Never one to break the private room’s cardinal rule, or even cop a feel while out on the main floor, this man is nothing but respectful.  And that makes you wish even more that he would just break – break all the rules and have his way with you.  Touch you.  Grab you.  Manhandle you to his liking and take you right on the faux velvet couch that lines the wall behind him.  With a low and wide swivel of your hips, you ghost over the growing bulge of his jeans and you hear him groan - a deep guttural sound from the back of his throat, and this time you don’t fight the smile that spreads across your face.

Francisco.

He’s probably been your favourite part of working as a club cocktail waitress these past few months.  You have a job as a research assistant that you love, but earlier this Spring, a small accident in the lab led to a temporary closure that had you looking for short-term work – you needed something where the hiring process wasn’t drawn out and that you could quit when the lab reopened without any negative consequences to your career - the waitress opening at The Midnight Palace had fit the bill.  The money was good and the work wasn’t arduous; it wasn’t as if you were one of the onstage dancers who had to perform some of the most incredible feats of acrobatics you’ve ever seen.  Even the later hours turned out to be a blessing, allowing you to spend your now free days with your son, a welcomed opportunity to fill his carefree summer days with activities and play before he started kindergarten in the Fall.  The girls, dancers and waitresses alike were incredibly friendly and welcoming, many of them single moms themselves.  All in all, you think you might even miss the club when the newly renovated lab reopened.  And still, even with all your unexpected fondness for this job, the thing you unequivocally look forward to most when coming in to work is Francisco Morales.

Every two weeks without fail he came in with a group of army buddies on Friday night.  The first time you encountered them had been your second week at the club, amused at how the other girls had been excited for their arrival; the group was known for being fun loving and rowdy, but never disruptive or disrespectful.  And generous - very generous.  As a waitress, your dress code was lingerie of your choice - not any more or less skimpy than what the dancers wore on stage or when they came to the floor for lap dances, but it could invite the occasional butt slap or waist grab from some of the bolder club patrons.  But never Francisco’s group – you served them drink after drink after drink, and they were only ever sweet and charming, nothing more than a polite touch as thanks, and generous with their words of praise and tips to every one of their servers and dancers.  You come to learn that they usually end their evenings with a round or two in the private rooms, sometimes one-on-one, other times as a group.  On that first night, you served the drinks in a private room that the group commandeered with three gorgeous dancers - all giggling and having the time of their lives.  As you put down their drinks, the dark-haired man that you come to think of as the group’s leader, smiled at you with his piercing hooded eyes and laughing, “Hey hunny, why don’t you stay?  We’ll pay for your time and you can keep Fish company.”  He tilted his head back to indicate to his friend who sat a bit further back from the group in a chair, leaning back comfortably, arms crossed, with no stripper to call his own.

You had smiled politely, not sure of your answer even though Tiffany had nodded encouragingly at you; most patrons didn’t know, but any girl could be invited to a private room – not just the dancers.  It was rare for a waitress to spend time in a private room – while there was no obligation, there was some expectation to strip and most waitresses didn’t; when you took the job, you didn’t have any intention of spending any one-on-one time in the private rooms, despite the rate and the tips being quite good. 

As you approach the odd man out to serve him his drink, he gives you an almost bashful shake of his head, as if to say ‘You don’t have to’ – you’re not sure what it is, maybe it was his almost boyishly shy smile, or the glimpse of those soft brown curls you caught when he lifted his cap to nervously run his hands through his hair, but on a whim, you decide to stay.  Afterall, it’s not as if you were alone – there were six other people in the room with you.

Putting his drink down, you slide into the handsome stranger’s lap, perching your scantily clad bum on his thick thigh, you blink bright-eyed and throw him a cheeky grin, “So… you’re a Fish?”  The wholesome chuckle and crinkle of his captivating eyes that follow your question warm your chest more than they should and that’s how you meet Francisco Morales. 

That first night, Frankie spends the remainder of the time that Santi pays for with you in his lap, arm thrown around his neck to keep from slipping off, just talking about nothing and everything.  You learn that the men are old army buddies: Santiago (call sign: Pope), Will (call sign: Ironhead), Ben (no call sign, just Benny because he’s the baby of the group) and of course Francisco, call sign: Catfish.   You giggled at this and Frankie thinks the sound is more than adorable.  You get a chance to run your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and find them to be as soft as you thought they’d be.  Ultimately, you find yourself spending an inordinate amount of time staring into his warm brown eyes as Frankie tells you about himself and his work as a helicopter pilot and mechanic.  When the little melodic bell chimes to indicate that the private room times are almost up, you can’t believe how fast the time has gone - you leave Francisco with a light kiss on the cheek and thank him for giving your tired feet a rest.

Two weeks later he returns and asks for a private room slot with just you.  And again, two weeks after that.  And again, and again – now a regular occurrence for the past few months, every time the boys came in to the club.  Your time in the private room with Francisco is comfortable, fun, flirty, and always, always safe.  A man of honour, he never touches you - his hands stay by his sides, on the table or on his own body, but never yours.  With time, you give yourself permission to be bold, growing more and more unrestrained with your touches. 

Taking off his cap, you’ll card your hands through his hair and lightly massage Frankie’s scalp – the first time you did this, you earned a soft ‘Baby’ from his plush lips that had your face feeling hotter than hot.  It fills you with something akin to pride and possessiveness that you know those same lips are pillow soft - you’ve run your fingers over them a hundred times, just as you have his cheekbones and jaw line, tracing over every firm line of his handsome face with featherlight strokes.  Nothing compares to feeling of his cheeks cupped in your soft hands as you scratch his patchy scruff, except maybe the swell of your chest when this affectionate gesture secures you another nickname, hermosa. 

But by far, your favourite nickname comes during your third time together.  Having looped both your arms around Frankie’s neck after making him laugh with a funny observation about a TV show you both watch, he closes his eyes once his laughter subsides and murmurs, “You smell like strawberries.”  Giggling, you confess that it’s the glitter gel you borrow from one of the dancers; you were still too new to the club scene to have any of your own body glitter, but you liked the smell of this one so you kept borrowing it and Sasha didn’t seem to mind. 

“Smells good, baby,” Frankie declares, “That’s my favourite dessert, you know?  And you’re just as sweet, Shortcake.”  Shortcake.  The petname had stuck and made you feel giddy every time the endearment slipped from his lips.  You don’t tell him that when you have to buy body wash the following week, you choose a strawberry scented one on purpose.

Sometimes your time with Frankie feels almost like taking an unsanctioned break – some misguided concept of proper work ethic finds you volunteering to dance for him even though it’s not in your job description; to both your delight, you discover you actually enjoy it, greedily drinking in Frankie’s lustful gaze as his eyes follow every dip of your waist and sway of your hips.  More recently, you’ve progressed to massaging his tense shoulders and back when he tells you about his rough days at work; as you push and pull at the corded muscles under his shirt, the deep rumbling groan that drops from his chest shoots straight between your legs and you can’t help but salivate at the idea of making him feel good in other ways.

But most of the time, you simply sit in Frankie’s lap, the two of you chatting and getting to know each other as if you were just two people that met under totally normal circumstances and found the other to be attractive.  You learn that he’s kind and giving, and he makes you laugh so very easily – some nights your face hurts a little from smiling so much, content to just listen to Frankie talk while absentmindedly rubbing his large, paw of a hand with your much smaller ones.

You think about his laugh and the way his entire chest shakes with it all the time.  On the nights between his visits to the club, you go home and think about his soulful eyes and the way they can flicker from a soft puppy dog look to a darkened, gripping expression of want with just a single touch from you.  After the nights you spend with him, he stars in all of your bedtime fantasies and you come to his imagined touch, hard and desperate with his name curling over your lips.  You wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.  If he would smile at you in the morning daylight the way he does when you kiss his cheek goodbye in the dark private room, all soft and almost disbelieving.  You wonder if he ever thinks about you at all outside of your nights together at the club.  You try not to let yourself get too lost in your longing for what might never be, but as the summer goes on, you start to ache for him, missing the little you have of him every day between your rendezvous.

Sadly, as much you cherish the time with Francisco in your little bubble within the safety of the club’s private room, you know it’s a fantasy that can’t last.  While Frankie knows you have a separate career outside of the club, he doesn’t know that your time together is nearly up.  The original timeline for the lab to be ready was end of summer, but an email you received last week indicated that the renovations were ahead of schedule and all lab and research staff could expect to return to work soon, though the exact date was yet to be fixed.  You don’t say anything to him - unwilling to spoil the mood of your limited remaining time together, and moreover, unwilling to broach the topic of what this is and if it could be anything else.  Anything more. 

Afraid, really, of what Francisco’s answer may be.

You have a feeling that your call back to work will come any day now, and that’s how you find yourself in the position you’re in now: topless and gyrating, cunt positively dripping while you touch your breasts salaciously for Francisco’s enjoyment.  Earlier tonight, when he had you sitting on his lap like that first time, the two of you drowning in the other’s eyes and longing looks, you had realized just how much you were going to miss him when you left.  The thought that this might be the last time you’re able have Frankie like this - all to yourself, able to soak in his adoring gaze while drawing a deep sigh of contentment from his chest as you study the strong features of his face, makes you bold and brave.  You rise and stand in between his legs, tilting his face up with your fingers so he looks at you while you reach behind and start to unclasp your bra.

“Hermosa, you don’t have t-” Frankie starts to protest, not sure where this might be coming from.  He’s been perfectly happy with how the two of you have been spending your private room time together.  In no way has Frankie ever wanted you to feel like he was pushing for more than you were giving him.  He won’t pretend that he doesn’t dream about your soft curves and the way your gorgeous figure nearly spills from the drool worthy lingerie you always wear; his nights alone in bed are spent imagining how you might feel writhing underneath him, what sounds he could pull from you while he explores your body – he’s willing to bet you taste sweeter than the strawberry scent that always seems to linger on his skin after he visits you.  But here in this room, it’s only the pleasure of your company and the opportunity to make you laugh and smile that he will ask from you.

Pressing a finger to his lips, you assure him, “Shhhhhh, Francisco.  I want to.  You’ve been so good to me these last few months.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you make me feel so special – it’s been a long time since anyone has made me feel this way.”

“Baby, I want to make you feel special everyday,” breathes Frankie.

You sigh, “And you’re so respectful.  I appreciate it so much, baby.  Please. Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”  Letting your lacy black bra fall to the ground, you watch as Frankie’s pupils dilate until his eyes turn jet black with want, jaw dropping.

“Holy fuck, Shortcake,” Frankie practically growls, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”  His unblinking gaze lingering over your pert and bouncy curves, bare and presented for him – a sight he didn’t even dare allow himself to dream.

Cocking your head to the side, you can’t help but feel your heart burst at his admission, “You think about me, Francisco?”

“All the time, baby,” there’s no use playing coy with you, not when you’re so perfect and vulnerable before him.  Frankie manages to tear his eyes away from your nearly nude body only to be met with what he thinks is the most beautiful sight on Earth, you smiling at him sweetly, radiating pure happiness.  Did he do that?  Did he make you happy?  He can’t help but feel a burst of pride - he wants to do it again and again.

Almost shyly, you tease, “Would you let me dance for you?”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Frankie can only assent with a quick nod before he watches, mesmerized, as you start to sway you body to the beat of the music pouring in from outside the private room; every line and dip of your figure moves rhythmically as if to hypnotize him.  Frankie doesn’t know how long you dance, but every brush of your legs against his causes his dick to twitch and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning.  When you move your hands to cup those perfect breasts of yours, he stares as you fondle and play with your nipples and thinks he might actually rip holes in his jeans with how hard he’s digging his fingers into his legs.  He’s painfully hard and he wants to touch you so bad.  But, of course he won’t.  You trust him not to cross that line, and he would never want you to feel anything but perfectly safe with him.

When you finally open your eyes, you see Frankie gazing at you - eyes glued to your face with an almost pained look of reverence, devotion etched into the handsome features of his face and it makes your heart sing.  “Francisco,” you tut playfully, “I finally get half naked for you, and you’re looking at my face?”

“Prettiest view in the room, Shortcake.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr, and then as if taking off your top for him wasn’t bold enough, you close the little distance left between your bodies and kiss him.  Soft and tentative at first, but when you feel Frankie’s mouth chase yours for more, the kiss quickly becomes needy, hungry.  Frankie’s hands remain on his legs, so you touch him for the both of you – running your hands through his soft hair, you cradle his head in your palms and tip his face to yours, pulling him up so you can press your lips more greedily to his.  Frankie’s tongue finds yours and he matches its every brush and stroke with equal fervour; as he map the inside of your mouth, the needy groans that vibrate from the back of your throat make his teeth rattle and his heart soar.  You gasp for air, but don’t take in enough because you can’t bear to be parted from his perfect, plush mouth – trading air for the dizziness that comes with the way Frankie devours you.  You kiss him like it’s everything you’ve been wanting to do for the last few months because it is; you kiss him like it’s the last time because it might be.

You break apart to the chime of the bell that warns the private rooms that their sessions are almost over.  Arms still around Frankie’s neck, you’re flattened against him – your knees pressed against his groin where you can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, your now heaving breasts tucked right beneath his chin, but he only has eyes for your face – the two of you grinning like lovestruck fools, though Frankie swears your eyes look a little sad.

“Time’s almost up, Francisco,” you whisper.  Backing away, you grab your bra from where it fell earlier and thread your arms through the straps.  Turning, you hold the cups to your chest and throw over your shoulder, “Do you mind?”

Wordlessly, Frankie expertly hooks your bra closed; when the backs of his thick fingers brush against your skin to buffer the snap of the band, that iota of contact sends an electrical current straight to your throbbing core.  And just when you think that’s all you’ll ever have of Francisco’s touch, you feel it: a soft, tender kiss to your lower back.  It’s so sweet you have to choke back a sob. 

Leaving him at the curtain to the room, you kiss his cheek lightly as you always do.

“See you next time, Shortcake.”

“Goodnight, Francisco.”

As if you were clairvoyant, the call from your old job comes the following Wednesday, and by that Friday you’ve worked your last shift at The Midnight Palace.  Saying goodbye to your co-workers, you know you’ll genuinely miss them and truly hope to keep in touch.

You wrestle briefly with leaving Francisco a message, but the truth is, you don’t know what you’d say or what you’d be asking for.  What you shared in the private room had seemed so precious and real, but was it really?  Could it ever survive in the real world?  The real world of kids, and long work days, and mundane chores?  If the magic of your time together with Frankie was marred by reality or if he never even responded, your fantasy of him would be shattered and then you wouldn’t even have the memory of him.  So, selfishly and somewhat cowardly, you opt to keep your little fantasy of Francisco for yourself and your lonely nights, and you leave knowing that in a week’s time he’ll show up and find you gone. 

The return to work is unremarkable and your schedule quickly normalizes to what it was before the lab incident; you’re happy to see your team again and easily delve back into the work you enjoy.  The remainder of the summer passes quickly, and before you know it, the first day of kindergarten is upon you.

Walking hand in hand with your son, you can’t help shedding a few tears seeing your child take this monumental step.  He’s nervous, but is taking a lot of big kid pride in being brave like you talked about.  After helping him find his cubby and putting his backpack away, you step into the hallway to say your last goodbyes as the teacher has instructed.

Burying his face in your neck, your son murmurs, “I love you, mama,” before striding confidently back into the classroom, waving back to your tearful, “I love you, Ray-ray! See you after school!”

Behind you, you hear the sniffles of a young girl who is having a little more difficulty separating from her parent; the low rumble of her father whispering words of reassurance and love transition to a louder and clear, “I’m proud of you, mija!” as the little girl walks tentatively towards the open door of the classroom.

That voice.  That calm, deep baritone is oddly familiar to you but you can’t quite place it.  You might puzzle over it a little if it wasn’t for your son reaching out his hand to the little girl at that moment and saying, “Hi!  I’m Raynor!  I’m in your class!” and the little girl smiling back wide, “Hi Raynor!  I’m Valentina!” before they walk hand-in-hand towards their new teacher.

Proud of your son and slightly relieved that he might have just made his first friend, you turn around to beam at the father of the little girl. 

You can only imagine the look of brief recognition quickly giving way to shock that the tall, good-looking man gives you, mirrors your own.  How was this possible?

Francisco.

Part 2

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

oh, that's why

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is showing up when someone doesn't ask'

rated t | 1,533 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, realizing feelings, love confessions, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Eddie was nervous.

He hadn't bothered mentioning Corroded Coffin's first show back to anyone except Wayne, didn't want anyone he knew to see him stumble over chords and lyrics with nerves he'd never had before Vecna. The guys didn't really say anything, but they'd casually suggested some slower songs mixed in to give him a break during the set. They just seemed to know that he didn't have the stamina anymore.

It's not like the Hideout was Madison Square Garden, but news had spread amongst the locals about Eddie's return to the stage and people must have gotten curious. The bar was busier than Eddie'd ever seen it, people lined up against the tiny stage and filling the tables spread out around the room. Every stool at the bar was filled, the door constantly opening to welcome someone new with a chilly breeze from the fall air.

"Hey, man. You ready?" Gareth's hand on his shoulder was meant to be comforting, but all it did was remind him of how much everyone in the crowd probably wanted to watch him fail.

"Yep," Eddie breathed out.

It was fine. This would just be another show, maybe not the best they've ever had, but they did fine during practice. He was fine.

There was no announcement for them, there never was. The bar owner and the main bartender pretty much only invited them back because the regulars would order double the amount of drinks when they performed.

The lights were already dimmed in the bar, and the spotlight stayed on on the stage all night.

It wasn't anything special, but it still felt like a step towards more.

The crowd was loud, and barely paid them any attention during Jeff's introduction.

They started playing Master of Puppets, a shorter version without the solo since Eddie still struggled getting through it without having a panic attack. It was part of "reclaiming his trauma" or whatever the government appointed therapist told him on his second and final visit.

He took the first minute to really look out at the crowd, passed the obnoxious spotlight.

Most of the people were unrecognizable, dressed a lot like Wayne, but lacked the friendly smile he gave him when he managed to make it to his shows. He saw a few people he knew from his first two senior years hanging by the back, probably trying not to be noticed by him.

And then he saw him.

Steve.

His fingers skipped over the strings, missing a note and then two, though only his band and maybe the bartender would notice.

Steve smiled back at him, mouthed 'lookin' good', and gave him a thumbs up.

How did Steve even know about this? None of the other guys had told him, he begged them not to, made them pinky swear that they wouldn't invite anyone they knew for the first show.

Eddie smiled back at him still, happy that Steve was here, realizing now that a friendly face was the only way he would get through this set. He should have told them all.

Most of the set went surprisingly well, and most of the crowd seemed content to watch and sing along. Only a few people walked out when they realized it was mostly metal music, but he figured they weren't really there for any music at all. Watching the freak was the only entertainment a lot of people had in this town.

Steve was nodding his head, nursing the same beer for the entire hour they were on stage, smiling every time Eddie made eye contact with him. He seemed to be enjoying it, despite his usual refusal to listen to any of Eddie's music.

When they got off the stage, Eddie rushed to Steve, not even bothering to put his guitar back in its case first. Most of the crowd had gone outside or settled around the bar anyway, so his sweetheart would be safe.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie bounced on his toes, adrenaline pumping after a successful show. "I didn't tell anyone about this."

"Wayne mentioned it by accident. He assumed you'd asked me to come," Steve shrugged. He didn't seem hurt about not being invited, thankfully, but Eddie still felt guilt bully its way into his chest.

"Sorry. I just wanted to get the first one done before I had anyone here," Eddie nudged his hand. "But thanks for coming. I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad I did too. I'll always be here if you need me, Eds."

It sounded serious, less like what friends do and more like what love does.

"How do you always know what I need?" Eddie couldn't help asking. "It's like I think I'm fine, but then you're there with a glass of water because I haven't remembered to drink all day. Or like tonight, when I thought I could do it on my own, but played much better because you were here."

"I just know you," Steve smiled.

"Wait," Eddie started thinking back to all the times Steve was there. All the times he would show up at the trailer after work to make dinner, not knowing that Eddie had been feeling lonely. All the times he sat next to him on the couch while he planned out Hellfire campaigns because he needed someone to bounce ideas off of who wouldn't be involved. All the times he had to brave the general public and Steve always managed to find a reason to be right by his side, silently protective. "Wait."

"I'm waiting," Steve said. And was he sounding smug? What was that smile on his face? "How long am I supposed to wait?"

"I didn't ask you to be here."

"That's true. You didn't even tell me you'd be here."

"I never ask you to come over. Or go places with me. Or anything."

"You do sometimes," Steve argued.

"Wait."

Steve's lips pinched together, but a smirk was starting to tease its way onto his face.

"You're here because you want to be. Because you knew I'd be a mess and would actually want someone here even though I didn't tell anyone. Because you're always there when I need someone even when I don't admit I do. Because you care about me."

"Love, actually."

Eddie stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"You said I care about you. Duh, of course I do. But I actually love you."

"Like...the way you love Robin?"

"No. Like the way I thought I loved Nancy. But with you it's more. It's way more, Eds."

Eddie was grateful for the dim lighting and Jeff's sudden appearance by his shoulder.

"Eddie! We fuckin' nailed it! I signed an autograph for a girl who knows my name!" He yelled before he noticed Steve. "Oh, hey Steve. Enjoy the show?"

"You all did great, man. Glad you're back out there," Steve reached out to grab his shoulder, a friendly gesture that Jeff wasn't expecting judging by his face. "Need any help loading up?"

"Uh. No. I was actually gonna let Eddie know Gareth's dad came by to help bring all our stuff home so we don't need his van." Jeff gave them both a knowing look, then smacked Eddie's shoulder and smiled. "See you tomorrow!"

Eddie waved at him, still in shock from everything Steve had said before Jeff interrupted.

"You should probably put her in her case, Eds," Steve gestured to the guitar still slung across his back. "People aren't that careful in a bar."

"Wait."

"You've said that a lot tonight."

"Because I'm having a stroke or something. I'm having a very lucid dream. Or maybe I got too high." Eddie shook his head and pinched his own arm. "You love me."

"That's what I said, yeah."

"And you meant it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

Eddie still felt like he might be dreaming, but he decided to lean into it. If Steve loved him, then that meant-

"Wait."

"Oh my God," Steve groaned, but he was smiling. "What now?"

"I love you, too."

"Yeah? You just figure that out?" Steve definitely sounded smug now.

"Yes! I thought I just had this stupid crush on my straight friend. Sorry I didn't realize the way my stomach does cartwheels when you're next to me meant I loved you!"

They both started laughing.

"So, that's why you were staring at me like that at the pool," Steve finally said through his laughter.

"And that's why you asked me to read to you when you had a migraine," Eddie crossed his arms across his chest to avoid doing what he really wanted to do: pull Steve into the most John Hughes-esque first kiss ever.

"We should probably get out of here," Steve said when he recognized Eddie's twitching fingers fighting to not reach out. "Don't think anyone here would like it too much if I made out with you next to the bar."

"Give me two minutes. I'll meet you outside."

Their actual first kiss was just as John Hughes-esque, but it was in the privacy of Eddie's bedroom, and immediately followed by Steve pushing him against his own door and dropping to his knees.

[sparkrls]

set a love alight

MASTERLIST

part of the bandmates! harry x yn au

Summary: in which Y/N makes mistakes and Harry remind her she’s only human

Author’s Note: just needed some emotional Y/N with sweetheart Harry. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.3k

•••

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N cursed, pushing past the mess of wires and equipment backstage and pushing through the door of the emergency exit. The door swung open, slamming against the brick wall before clicking shut again.

Kicking at a small rock in the gravel, Y/N tried to release her fury. A choked sob escaped her raw throat, the burning reminding her of the fatal mistake she’d made that night.

Ambition had been her downfall. She’d let herself be overly confident in her abilities and had reached too high, her wings scorched by the sun.

Y/N fell to the ground. She didn’t bother to sit down gently, simply just letting her knees give out beneath her. She curled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and linking her hands together.

The hem of her skirt rode up, reaching her upper thigh. Usually, she might tug it down, but she was a bit too busy crying to even think about something so trivial like her skirt.

A pair of hands settled on her shoulders. Y/N was startled at the sudden touch. She could’ve sworn she was alone.

Eyeliner and makeup smudged from crying, Y/N looked up to find that Harry was crouched in front of her, his gaze soft and warm. She quickly tried to wipe her tears away, but he caught her wrists and pulled them down to her sides.

Harry’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, “Baby. It’s okay.” He was handling her like shattered glass, doing his best to not slit his hand while picking up the sharp fragments. “I’m here.”

Y/N didn’t like for people to see her cry. Not only was she an ugly crier, but she hated when people saw her so vulnerable. It felt wrong. And she didn’t cry often anyways. But when she did, it was messy and wild.

“I screwed up,” Y/N whispered, hating how her voice broke when she was barely audible. A pool of shame gathered in her stomach, weighing her down and suffocating her.

Harry sat down next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. He leaned forward to meet her eyes. “Yeah. You did. And?”

“And?” She said, her voice raising a bit. “And I humiliated myself. I was so fucking bad.”

“You were nervous and you made a mistake,” Harry said steadily, his voice never raising. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I shouldn’t have taken that solo,” Y/N said with the shake of her head, another tear spilling against her will.

They had decided to perform their new song, ‘Set A Love Alight’. Y/N and Harry had written it just three weeks ago, and they decided to play it at this gig they’d booked at the bar they regularly played at, 17 Black.

After a long time of reluctance and hesitation, Y/N had decided to do the song as a solo. Up until now, Harry was always the one singing. Occasionally, Sarah or Mitch would sing a verse or two, but for the most part, Harry was the vocal powerhouse. Everyone liked it that way, everyone felt comfortable.

And Y/N had never dared to sing anything except backing vocals. And for the last few months, Harry had been trying to convince her to sing at least one verse of a song. He’d hyped her up, encouraging her to do so and telling her how amazing her voice was about a million times.

After a long time of pleading, Harry’d gotten what he wanted and more. Y/N took on the burden of an entire song. And tonight was not only the debut of the new song, but also of her voice.

Weeks of rehearsals had fallen down the drain when Y/N started singing and her voice came out shaky with nerves. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t hit the right chords on the guitar. And her lungs started constricting, making it hard for her to complete the lines without gasping for air. And all of this combined into the messiest performance the band had ever performed.

At the end of the song, Y/N was holding back tears and the small amount of people paying attention to the band clapped politely, but she heard the whispers of judgement. And when she turned to look at the band, the three of them were looking at her with pity in their eyes.

That was how she’d rushed off stage, thrusting her guitar into the hands of someone she passed by, possibly even a bystander just walking by. She didn’t even look at their face before walking out in tears.

“Love, you’re a good singer,” Harry said with a small sigh, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You got nervous. It happens to everyone. You just have to learn how to control those nerves, that’s all.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, holding back a sob. “I made everyone look bad.”

Harry let out a small laugh. Y/N opened her eyes to glare at him. He rushed to say, “Baby, I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear. I just… I’ve made countless mistakes on stage. My voice has cracked, I’ve missed high notes, I’ve mixed up verses, I’ve sung off-key. But my mistakes don’t take away from my talent.” He pulled her forward to hug her. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a good singer. Because I was persistent and a hard worker. I didn’t give up even when I had moments where I sounded like shit and thought I had humiliated myself to a degree no other human being ever had.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Which part?” Harry asked, curiously. He was ever as bright as always, but so soft and gentle. He was a sweetheart above anything else.

“Getting on stage and giving an amazing as fuck performance each time,” Y/N said. She shook her head. “You’re amazing, H.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s what I know how to do. I’ve done it my entire life. The same way you always play the guitar ‘amazing as fuck’.” He scrunched his nose up at her as he mocked her words. She let out a small chuckle. He smiled, pleased at himself. He always pulled a smile out of her. “It takes time and experience. I promise next time you get on stage to sing you’ll be better. Not perfect, just better. And someday, you won’t even remember tonight as anything more than just another story to tell and laugh at.”

Y/N pursed her lips, silent for a moment in thought. He was right. He always was.

Somehow, Harry always managed to make the tears seem like just another silly hurdle to jump over. The world seemed so much easier to face when he spoke about it so simply.

And with Harry holding her in his arms, who wouldn’t be ready to take on anything the universe threw her way?

Harry let out a small sigh, running his fingers through her hair. “You’ll be okay, love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry always took care of her with love. Not as if she were fractured sharp glass, but as if she were a bouquet of flowers you settled into a vase with care as to not let a single petal drop.

And Y/N wished she were as sweet as him. She wished she could be as good and pure as he was, to give him the affection he needed. The care he gave her was the kind he should be receiving.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, starting off with something small to remind him of her love.

Harry smiled, as if she’d made some grand declaration of love and hung a star in the night sky for him. “I love you too.”

[ginger-berrie]

SO I JUST SAW FALSETTOS LIVE FOR THE FIRST TIME

HOLY SHIT OKAY. HEY GUYS I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING FALSETTOS. LIVE. MY FAVOROITE MUSICAL EVER. I HAVE WORDS TO SAY.

So firstly I of course have to say this musical is fucking phenomenal and if u havent seen it even on youtube you HAVE to. onne of the best musicals ever wrutten. ignore any typos in this my hands r still shaking and im not editing htis. OKAY.

The actors. It was a college level production but the actors were so so talented. My favorite performances were from Mendel and Jason, who both pulled off their roles INCREDIBLY. Mendel was like a carbon copy of Brandon Uranowitz he had his mannerisms DOWN. All the nervous ticks, touching his face, being generally so awkward all the time, even his face was just perfec t for the role. And Jason was played by an adult femme-presenting person but they were so good as him!!!!! their voice fit him perfectly and she also perfectly encompassed Jason;s awkward childlike nature. The entire cast was incredible but those two really stood out to me!!!! Everyone's singing voices as well were fantastic, especially Trina's—she KILLED the high notes and even sung up the octave on a few lines !!!! including the "but still the bastard divorced me" and she still belted the "you must exorcise a devil" even AFTER Im Breaking Down. In fucking sane.

THAT BEING SAID THOUGH. Even though i enjouyed every second of it I do wanna make some more analysis-related directing critiques because im fucked up and evil about this show . im so sorry just let me speak here meaout. Stating right now though I've only seen the 2016 revival (about 2 dozen times) and not the original 90's version (been meaning to watch it just havent gotten the chance) so i reserve all TRUE judgement until after I see it!!! maybe some of these choices were in the original but tbh if they were i still like how the revival did it better. okay i swear im not just one of those ppl who is like "tHaTS noT hOw ThEY dId iT On BroADwAy" calm down. thanks <3

First of all. Some of the scenes lacked energy !!!!! Thrill of first love had no homoerotic choreography!!!!! they just kinda sat there on the couch looking morose and barely looking at each other as if they truly just hate each other and feel ANYthing towards each other anymore at all. But thats not the point!!!!!! They dont fully hate each other theyre just lacking the excitement that they once had and it's been replaced with nothing but disagreements and sex. When Whizzer and Marvin do their gay little dance theyre not just dancing and being gross and sexual theyre also FIGHTING!!!! they still care about each other they just dont know how to act!!!! and marvin's a bitch of course. Marvin was still very much a bitch. But because of the lack of energy in this song there was a bit of a lack of chemistry between the two as well, which carried through the whole show. I feel like it's important to see just how gross fucked up n nasty these two are about each other to see how its truly affecting the other people in Marvin's life. Even their chemistry during the chess game was lacking. They just kinda felt like they really hated each other. Which isnt the pointtttttt. Guh

Trina (or the directors idk) also made some choices I wasn't 100% on board with but they were more subtle. Mostly in her tone about Mendel. Up through Please Come To Our House she seemed to really really like Mendel. Like it was clear she was attempting to woo him. But then when he was proposing, and when they were maknig their home together, she just seemed. Unenthused. I know Trina truly doesn't really love her life, and just needs the stability of a nuclear family, but it was odd to see her not even attempt to keep up the facade on her own. Her and Mendel were similarly lacking in a lot of chemistry because of this, which, maybe to some of you makes sense but to me i do want to see them be close even if Mendel isn't absolutely the best.

LAST CRITIQUE OKAY. This one is BIG SPOILERS if u havent seen it yet but probably if ur reading this far youve already seen it okay. The fuckign bar mitzvah!!!!! There was no acknowledgement from Whizzer to Jason as he was reading his Torah !!!!!!! He just layed there in the hospital bed, facing AWAY from the audience so we could only see the very top of his head (which was on purpose for a quick change but) and he didnt get up at all to thank Jason or even acknowledge him :( for all the audience knows maybe he didnt even see Jason get bar mitzvahd. screaming crying throwing up.

OKAY IM DONE W BEING MEAN HERES A BIG CHANGE I REALLY LOVED !!!!!! as well as some smaller changes that i also really liked or were jsut neutral things i noticed

For most of act 2, up until Days Like This, They had this really cool circus imagery? Now once again idk if this is in the OG, but they had a picture of each cluster of characters set up on either side of the stage, and each of them was doing some sort of circus act both in the pictures and on stage, especially during A Day in Falsettoland. When a character was having their point in the song, they'd sometimes cut the lights briefly and suddenly the characters would be struggling to perform their little circus act, and each of them had a differnt one respectively and they all represented their immaturities/flaws/struggles:

Jason was on stilts, representing his need to grow up and perhaps his perceived mental maturity compared to the other characters

Trina was balancing/spinning plates on sticks, representing her need to keep balance and order in her life

Marvin + Whizzer were fencers because of their lingering animosity, yet newfound respect, for one another. Fencing isnt a dangerous sport, like you dont actually hurt your opponent in it, but it;s still a fight and youre still pointoing a weapon at them. guh. (AND BTW they did this during the racquetball scene and HOLY SHIT. I just gotta describe this one. Racquetball number 1 They had their little racquets as they were singing to each other but then when they got really into the game the lights would cut and then theyd be FENCING each other instead!!!!! and then the lights would cut again and itd go back to racquetball!!!! BUT THEN in the racquetball number 2 when it cut to them fencing ONLY MARVIN HAD A SWORD. WHIZZER STILL HAD HIS RACQUET. GIUUHUHGGHGHGHGHGH.;..,.,/;;'.';.;'[[[.)

Then the lesbians from next door were like a duo balancing/acrobatics act where they were always leaning on each other and picking each other up which was cute but also like. Charlotte would start falling in one direction and Cordelia would have to scrambke to catch her. I always hail them as the healthiest couple in the show but sometimes i forget they have problems too, like Cordelia;s insecurity and Charlotte's stress over the virus of course.

And finally Mendel!!!! was the fucking ringmaster!!!!! He had a hoop and a top hat and every time he was trying to calm down Jason (Everyone Hates His Parents), or Caroline, or Trina (A Day in Falsettoland), he would appear with his hoop and top hat, to show that HE is the one who needs to "control" other people's lives, or at least he feels the need to direct them. Mendel of course needs to feel like he's smarter than everyone else and like he's the only one who can help people. It really drove that home and it was an insane realization to come to. Phenomenal directing choice idk who came up with that but. bravissimo to you

Now miscellaneous stuff i liked or noticed!!!

They didn't have the big ol foam block. just some couch ends that they moved around to be diff pieces of furniture. If you've ever seen Waiting In The Wings' analysis on falsettos you might have seen a comment in the youtube section discussing how in the set design for the revival, the lack of real furniture through most of the show represents the lack of maturity of the characters, and as things get serious for them, more real props and set pieces get added. Like the chess board, the decor for Mendel + Trina's home, Whizzer's suitcase, the whole hospital room, etc. They didn't lean into that with this but i think that's fine! its not a necessary detail in my opinion and they did their best with what they had!!

Marvin didn't hand whizzer the suitcase after the chess game. He just grabbed it, and packed it himself. I was waiting for him to slam it into whizzer's chest or something. but no. Whizzer just picked it up and walked off. okay. Neutral bad change imo

Marvin's performances of What would I do and What more can i Say were. Breathtaking. Marvin actor if you're out there reading this your voice is lovely and carries so much emotion in your solo numbers. I Did Cry. a little bit

god their group number harmonies were AMAZING. All of the cast members' voices blended together so well and it was absolutely beautiful. the whole show was beautiful and i adored it i swear. I jsut need somwhere to put my feelings

THE ORCHESTRA FUCKED. IT FUCKED

Okay its getting late now and im fading quickly BUT IF U READ THIS FAR UR INSANE. This is for me and nobody else i just eneded to feelings dump. tl;dr: i fucking lvoe falsettos this was one of the best nights of my life i love you actors i love you pit i love you lighting i love you run crew i love you sound crew i love you musical theatre

[itsmattchou]

1 to 10, you make my heart flutter !

pairing: zb1 hyung line x gn!reader warnings: noT PROOFREAD!, if you can play the violin NO YOU CANNOT, established relationship, intentional lowercase, english isn't my first language!!! genre: fluff synopsis: just cute things the boys do in a relationship notes: THIS IS MY COMEBACK POST YEAHHHHH👹👹👹👹👹 WASSUP i'm back and better than ever. also I've been binging never have i ever recently and i just LOVE that show ngl. BTW THIS ONE'S REALLY BAD SO I'M SORRY

KIM JIWOONG - takes pictures of you. kim "king of taking candid pics of you" jiwoong. you're easily the most gorgeous being in this universe in his eyes. so, naturally, he takes pictures of you whenever you look extra beautiful to him. which is always. he barely takes bad pictures, but whenever one has something off about it- your face is a little to blurry? the lightning doesn't fit? you blinked? picture gets deleted and he continues on taking new ones till he gets the perfect shot that realistically portraits your beauty. every single picture of you in his camera roll is literally instagram worthy. he's like,,,, naturally skilled at being your photographer.

ZHANG HAO - teaches you how to play the violin. hao really loves playing his violin. it's one of his passions- and how could he not share this passion with you, his beautiful partner? the first time you tried to play his instrument was a disaster to be completely honest. it requires a certain amount of skill to sound great- and you did indeed not have that needed skill. it was kind of embarrassing, but hao encouraged you to keep going and continously gave you tips on how to improve. now, after months of dating and months of violin lessons, your skill improved. hao best teacher CONFIRMED

SUNG HANBIN - gives you piggyback rides. hanbin is a tall guy who definitely can carry some weight. he's proving that by carrying you around on his back effortlessly whenever, wherever. if you're out on a date and you even once complain about your feet hurting on the way back home, he's already about to carry you. if you'd ask him why exactly he enjoys piggyback rides so much he wouldn't be able to give you a proper reason. maybe it's the way you're giggling softly right next to his ear when his steps speed up. or mister "acts of service + physical touch" just enjoys being able to help you while keeping you close.

SEOK MATTHEW - takes you on walks. matthew really loves taking walks. with earphones plugged into his ears and his playlist busting, he enjoys just walking around in nature and forgetting about everything for once. well, this was before he met you. now he's taking you regularly on walks with him, strolling through nature or the streets of the city you live in. hand in hand you're talking about anything and everything, giggling and having a great time together. and sometimes you're just silently enjoying your surroundings: the way the sun is tickling your noses or a gentle breeze is brushing your skin.

KIM TAERAE - sings to you. a beautiful man with a beautiful voice? that's exactly who taerae is. now after months of dating his singing is one of your favorite sounds on this planet. lucky for you, there's barely a situation where he does not sing: while showering, while cleaning the house, while cooking? singing. he sings in order to comfort you after you woke up, terrified, in the middle of the night because of a nightmare you had because he knows how soothing the sound of his voice is for you. he writes love songs inspired by you and performs them during private living room concerts (basically just you two chilling on the couch after a date) only for you.

[lilacthebooklover]

An Analysis of the Choreography and Physical Acting in the "Nerdy Prudes Must Die" Song

the choreography in this song is exquisite (lauren lopez, you never cease to amaze), and the use of physical skills in jon and will's acting is absolutely phenomenal. here, i'm going to explain why.

first of all, the facial expressions. will pulls off max's rage and loathing flawlessly, down to way his face scrunches up and his lip curls at the start of the song as he walks through the audience. the movements are jerky, his head tilts and the broad gestures of his hands showing both how confident and furious he is. richie seems terrified, the way he crosses his arms over his chest and backs away at the start of the song showing just how scared he is- the actions look almost involuntary. he's shaking, and looks like he's on the verge of tears.

max is confident as ever, believing himself to be invincible. he bares his teeth like a predator on the hunt, and richie runs like his prey. this is a game to max, that much is obvious. he has full control here- richie tries to run behind him, but max holds out a hand to his chest and turns his head, and richie cannot move. his chest heaves and he hunches in on himself, petrified, after max moves away again. even the little things, like max shaking his hand as though disgusted after touching richie as he walks away, have such a cool effect on the performance.

as max talks about the smoke club, he adds their special hand gesture- he knows who they are, and could quite possibly have been a part of them at some point. then, he forcefully throws his arms to the side, glaring out at richie.

after that is one of my favourite bits of choreography in the scene: the levitation segment.

max steps forward and lifts his arm as though holding something up, and richie rises too, head tilted away, back arched away, neck exposed. then, max throws his arm down, therefore throwing richie down, and jon pulls off the fall perfectly. the syncronisation is on point, and that tumble looks painful.

the power max holds over richhie is clear even from afar. this works not only in conveying his control and the fruitlessness of richie's attempted escape in this scene, but also works as a metaphor for the control he's had over the cast throughout their school years. pete's afraid to talk to steph because max forbids it, richie's afraid to make friends because max has branded him as a loser. there are so many layers to the effect his bullying's had on pete, richie and ruth, and him quite literally controlling richie without even touching him works excellently to demonstrate this.

richie runs off, scrambling to his feet and towards the audience, where max came from. max doesn't pay attention to him, caught up in imagining the aftermath of the victory he knows is coming. he looks out to the audience at "the jock you demonised", then turns to richie, addressing him again. richie looks over and sees that max is watching him, freezing for a moment before running again, quicker than before. but max just raises his arms, and richie startles at the exit to the theatre; it seems like max has been able to lock them in using his lovely new ghost powers.

at "buried and left me", max moves closer to the floor, almost reenacting what happened. with each new accusation, he moves closer to richie, then points at "you pushed me off the edge": he's blaming richie for what's happening.

max's tongue sticks out in apparent disgust at the next segment, even the flouncy hand movements he uses mocking how "well-behaved" the world is. the next gesture he does is condescending too, like he's explaining to richie that he's "too weak to be enslaved".

most of the next chorus just seems like dancing, but that in itself holds a message. max is having fun with this. again, it's all a game; he's toying with richie, with everyone, high on power. he speaks to someone who isn't there, vividly envisioning his dreams.

at "expose the bloody lines", his hands move out slowly, being exposed to the audience. then, max looks at them, literally saying that the blood will be on his hands. he plans to kill every "nerd" at hatchetfield high, imagining doing so with vigour.

i believe that the line "watch me spawn/ and prey upon/ you anti-socialites" could have a dual meaning. the first being that he is, again, a predator, and the nerds are his prey. the second, however, could be "pray upon", tying into his god complex- he's still addressing the nerds, telling them to watch & pray upon him. here, he does a classic, monster-style pose; the very opposite of a god, but an excellent callback to 'literal monster' earlier on.

he doesn't even look at richie as he runs past, max just raising his arm and easily throwing richie to the floor. the use of levels here is phenomenal; it's a perfect way of showing that max is the one with all the power here, richie completely at his mercy, and max has none.

as max walks away, richie can be seen trying to crawl away in the background, only to freeze when max turns around again and focuses on him, knowing there's no way of escaping. he's curled in on himself and trembling, but he stays where he is, still looking like he's about to start sobbing.

max's face softens, looking almost sympathetic at the line "who will pray for me". it's a sharp contrast to the order from seconds before, and richie hastens to follow it, slightly delayed as he sits up and discreetly tries to continue crawling back. max's face hardens again at "when i'm gone", and while richie continues moving back, he's focused now, arm shaking as much as his voice.

at "or until another richie comes along", max leans over him, back to being as intimidating as possible. richie sits up further in alarm, looking like he's about to run for it and stretching a hand out as he asks max to repeat himself.

where richie is weak, barely able to move, max is still full of energy, his movements much more fluid now that he's used to this form. up until them, they've been jerky and sharp- a nice nod to the dismemberment of his limbs in the waylon house- but now, they're even stronger than before. he's putting his all into this, because if he's going out, he's going out with a bang.

he's not talking to richie anymore when the chorus repeats. "is this the eternal dark without a dawn?" shows that clearly enough. he's wondering who will pray for him when he's gone, and the answer is no-one. he's seen how things have changed, and in the grand scheme of things, it's clear max meant nothing, not even to the place he had such an influence on. and that affects him more than anything- he sees himself as a god, and does not appreciate people preferring richie lipschitz of all people to him.

he turns back to richie, pointing at him again as the chorus repeats, his movements once again giving the impression that he's envisioning what's about to happen. the other cast members march in like soldiers, oblivious to what's happening to richie as they focus on their own lives and social statuses, characters like grace and pete obvious amongst them- neither of whom had too large of a reaction to richie's death, too busy running from max and the police. meanwhile, richie himself is forcing himself to do what max says, face scrunched up like he's bracing for an attack.

at "i'm not a loser", he leans forward, eyes tightly shut as he tries to hold onto the reality he's formed for himself since max's death. he's losing everything fast, but by defying max's order of repeating after him, he holds onto a shred of that newfound confidence and social standing.

at the same time, max's stance is broad, his fists coming down as he blames richie for both of their deaths, trying to make richie believe that too. it takes him a moment to realise richie isn't copying him anymore, but when he does, he turns to him furiously with a yell, glaring spitefully. the lighting change here is also very effective (creating a more solemn atmosphere and plunging the stage into much colder, foreboding colours than the anger and tension of what had come just before), but i won't go too deeply into that since this is an analysis of movement.

as richie begs for max to not kill him, he shakes his head quickly, panting as he stays below him, unable to defend himself. at his second "i'm not a loser", his mouth twitches into something akin to a smile, because richie isn't a loser, not anymore. he's found his place, he's well-liked, he's worthy of being friends with, and he won't let max convince him otherwise anymore. so instead, he tries to convince max that he's right. and max does not appreciate it in the slightest.

he shifts back into his jock persona, straightening up and using the same condescending voice and jerks of his chin as he did before his death. he wants to intimidate richie, and by using that familiar attitude and approaching him slowly, max wipes the half-smile off of richie's face. richie jerks, falling a little as he tries to get to his feet. it's an excellent echo to the earlier hallway scene between him and max; he's reverting back to that state of powerlessness and terror again, but now, it's further exemplified by the threat on his life.

max comes to a stop in front of richie, placing the audience's focus on himself as richie looks up at him desperately. he's in power, he's above richie, and he demands attention as he looks down on him.

pete, steph, ruth and grace stand behind him in the shadows, steadfast and stoic as they look straight ahead, not at richie or max. they don't seem to care about his death, and have hidden max's, and they're not there to help him get away, no matter how much he wishes they could.

max makes himself seem larger, looking at his hands and holding them out like claws, seeming like the true image of a monster. he stands directly over richie as the lights dim, richie pleading and curling in on himself more with every second that passes. just before the blackout, max dives down and grabs richie by the throat, a sweeping motion that seems almost inhuman.

to conclude, this song is a masterpiece, and lauren lopez is a genius at choreography. i might edit this later, it's around 1am and i am very tired, but i'd love to hear your thoughts in the replies/reblogs! i'll probably also do an analysis on this song based more on the vocal acting and lyrics themselves because i've been listening to it non-stop this past week- maybe i'll add some elements of lighting in too; it's very effective in this scene, especially at the "who will pray for me" part. thanks for reading!

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 26, 2021 4:00 a.m. a balcony, somewhere

time somehow seems to simultaneously slow to a crawl and race beyond the speed of light. grant doesn’t remember when they’d ended up perched like lovebirds at the pinnacle of a staircase, peering out over the night-drenched landscape, but it must have been a while ago. customers have long since stopped streaming in and out of the restaurant on the street below.

he remembers in better detail the stream of their conversation–they’d shifted from food and a strangely peaceful, humorous discussion of kicking the bucket to movies, and at some point, paranormal stories came up along the way.

it’d be hard to forget talking to yunha.

there’s something curiously enrapturing about her, something that had drawn him to her when he first made eye-contact with her.

the look in her eyes, maybe. it’s piercing, like she’s baring right through your skin and into your soul, but not malicious or judgmental. it’s friendly, it’s curious, it’s playful.

the way she speaks, maybe. she’s the most engaged conversationalist he’s ever encountered. everything you say, whether she agrees or disagrees, is met with affirmations and a lot of nodding. yes, yes, of course. i see, i see. i understand. ohhh, wow! really?

she’s unraveling every shard of the puzzle that is his personality and piecing it back together in one whole picture, analyzing it. figuring it out. appreciating it.

or maybe it’s the sweetness that radiates off her. she appears unafraid to smile, instead all too happy to flash those pretty, crooked bunny teeth for the world to see.

“so, i'm going to guess you’re not accidentally good at singing.”

she seems not to mind revealing her own puzzle pieces either, and the more she says about herself, the more fascinated he is with her. with who she is. with what makes her tick.

“i hope it’s not an accident,” yunha replies, laughing, “because shit, then years worth of practice was a waste.”

“time enjoyed is never time wasted.”

the unabashed cringe of the line garners an immediate eye roll, but she still seems to find it funny.

they’ve definitely been sitting here a while. grant straightens his back, fixing his gradually slouching posture, and is is met with an immediate flash of pain, distinct from the chronic dull ache underlying every day of his life, that radiates down every vertebra.

“what got you into music, though?”

yunha’s rosy pink lips purse in thought as she dwells on the question.

“a lot of things. my parents like music. i listened to a lot of different kinds of songs my whole life, first with them, and then later with my friends. i had some time between classes and studying to spend having fun, but i couldn't spend any money, so my friends and i would go to this music store. we walked around and picked random albums to listen to on the headphones. we never bought anything.”

grant nods supportively. “what’s, like, the first album you remember really liking? or albums. you don’t have to pick one.”

“ah! i treasure so many albums. seo taiji and boys IV. i think that’s still my favorite nostalgic album ever. i also remember fondly, um, this girl’s in love with you by aretha franklin. i heard that at the music store, and i was so impressed by her talent. i still am.”

“i'm not a music expert. surprise! i know, i know, i'm sorry to tell you, i did not practice for centuries for that wonderful spice girls performance earlier. no, but seriously, i most often just listen to the same old emo stuff i liked when i was 13. so, unfortunately i don’t know the first album at all, at least not yet, but i do know the second one. you have fantastic taste, that’s a classic.”

despite his ignorance, yunha still smiles from ear to ear. “you should look up the first one! look up, like, seo taiji ‘come back home.’ that’s the most popular song on the album. i don’t wanna bias you, so listen on your own and make your own opinions.”

“wilco. and if you don’t mind me asking, how’d you turn the interest in music into a skill? you are talented, but i know it's very much a skill. it does take a lot of practice to become tangibly good at music.”

“to express myself,” yunha says plainly, “it’s easier to tell your story in art than talking about it, and singing is free. you don’t need supplies to learn it. but yes, i needed that kind of outlet, you know? i always liked singing, always did it, but i needed more than only entertainment from it over time.”

“oh yeah, art is helpful. i really should have gotten on that train earlier. i got on board about a year ago. it's much better for you than intellectualizing everything. or at least that's what i tend to do. do you perform, by the way? outside of karaoke, that is."

"sometimes. but also, not in a long time."

there falls a brief, but peaceful lull in the conversation. grant’s eyes draw to black night sky as he recalls the last haphazard art he’d created–the mushy-gushy attempt at processing the universe. seeing it hanging above him now, his thoughts are no less conflicting. light pollution washes out the shining sea of stars, but the sky still retains its beauty, its bewilderment. visible or not, an infinite chain of dimensions and celestial bodies exist in the vacuum of space, orbiting independent of him, yet factoring in the tiny fraction of his mass on the mass of the earth in their delicate ballerina dance across the fabric of spacetime.

the universe must have created me for some reason, for something other than anguish.

his own words. again. ever-present.

“i miss seeing the stars.” yunha’s buttery soft voice breaks his concentration. “you can’t see anything here.”

“polaris.” grant raises his left arm and draws his index finger across the sky until it hovers above the only star he’s seen thus far. “technically, that means we should be able to see sirius, too, but we don’t need to get all science-y and talk about magnitude and that polaris isn’t–”

“i would like it if you did.”

she was thinking of the stars, too.

synchronicity.

“aw shucks! well. i’ll say this, polaris isn’t the brightest star. we just talk about it way more frequently because it has the most cultural significance in the northern hemisphere for, you know, navigation reasons. but hey, give it about 12,000 more years, and it even won’t be the north star anymore. thank you, wobbly earth axis. but also boo, woobly earth axis, because it's a little sad to think about.”

yunha’s eyes glitter with fascination. “it’ll be something else?”

“yep! the next north star will be vega,” he explains, “come on down, you’re the next contestant!”

“maybe we’ll see it happen.”

“if my consciousness is still floating around as little dust particles, that’d be pretty sick. you know? forget fly me to the moon, fly me to vega. why not?”

“i don’t think i'll be dust,” yunha says, not missing a beat at all, even as her focus remains fixed on the faintest twinkle emanating from polaris, “it’s kind of troubling. you don’t want to be, like, stuck in the whole cycle of the universe, but if you’re still here, you can see some really beautiful things.”

“ah. reincarnation?”

“if you’re asking me, you’re not going to be dust. either you escape the suffering or you come back in some kind of physical form, human or not, and you try again.”

grant thinks about it for a moment. and then the feelings, like usual, spill out at once.

“i'm not going to lie, that idea has always given me the heebie-jeebies. i think it’s very cool as a concept, but i'm, like, man, i don’t want to do this shit again. also, look, we're doing the thing again. oh, and shit, that sounded judgmental. i just run my mouth too much."

"most people don't know they lived before. you can't really remember your other lives without a lot of study," she answers, "and no, you don't. i prefer to hear your real opinion. it's actually stupid when people tell you what they think you want to hear."

"do you ever wonder what you were up to last go-around?"

"not too much, but i always heard strange birthmarks and scars are signs from your last death. fears, too. things you avoid. so, i guess, like, a clown stabbed me in the neck with needles."

"are you afraid of storm drains, by any chance? if so, i think pennywise had it out for you."

"hahaha." yunha shakes her head. "wait, i have to ask. is it not worse thinking you can only live once? that's not uncomfortable? feeling like you have to make everything perfect in your one lifetime?"

"oh no, it's terrifying. dying and just being done with everything is eerie, too, because there are nice things to do and see here in the real world. you’re right about that. and yeah, there is a lot of pressure to get it all right. also, that's not even mentioning that there are people i love that i don’t want to be gone forever. i'd like to think they remain somehow. conscious or not. i kind of think they do, but i don’t know. am i contradicting myself? capital-P probably."

“you don’t know what to think.”

grant immediately bursts out laughing. “yeah, no, absolutely not. i do not know. i just kinda waffle around and hope some scientist throws out some numbers and whatnot that proves some explanation of everything correct. but that’s impossible. it’s literally impossible. we can’t even simulate or predict the wacky physics that were going on at the exact moment the big bang happened.”

“not to be, like, all quirky, but...” yunha reaches over, patting him on the shoulder. “maybe don’t think about it? you’re gonna go crazy. you can just not know? and it's fine. this doesn’t mean anything anyway. the answer to anything is already in you, it’s not out there.”

and then she, too, starts giggling all over again and her cheeks blush deep red from sheepish cringe.

another stereotypical line, but he doesn't mind. they sound better coming from her than him anyhow.

a second later and she checks the time on her phone. her cheesy smile erodes into a slight frown.

“ahh, i really need to leave soon. i have a schedule in the morning.”

grant checks the time as well, drawing the sleeve of his hoodie up just enough to read the minuscule roman numerals on his watch.

on the watch an ex-girlfriend gifted him. not päivi, but...

4:00 a.m.

fuck.

right.

you’re leaving the country in two hours.

[wr1t3w1tm3]

The Outsiders a New Musical Cast Recording Reaction

Here you go @its-a-hare-pom-pom

Please note: I do not actually know the voices of who is who. I am having to assume who is who in some of the songs so I'm doing my best. I looked up a cast list for this. This is confusing and I'd need several more listens through to figure out who is and that's probably not gonna happen anytime soon (ya'll fill find out why in a later post).

Also, I curse a lot and there's a brief mention of suicide in my section on I could talk to you all night, so be warned.

Tulsa '67: Interesting how they changed Johnny's jumping to just a week before the events of the musical. I don't mind that change. I kinda like it? Maybe?

Okay. I need to rant a bit here. I grew up just a day's drive from Tulsa in a town not very dissimilar from it. Just switch East and West and you're halfway there. (Meaning in my city the East side was the old money and West was more of everyone else/the new money side of town).

Ponyboy's diatribe about how people get stuck in the town for life hits home for me because, like, of the nearly 300 person graduating class from my highschool, a vast majority of them went to school either in town or within the state. While I'm technically still in the state, I'm right across the river from our neighboring state so the line's a bit funky. I feel his longing to get the hell out. I feel the sort of resentment he feels towards Darry, who could've been a sports star had circumstances panned out differently. I feel his heartache for Soda when he mentions that his girlfriend up and left and broke his heart. My little sister and younger brother are both up-and-coming in similar ways to Darry (albeit a different sport for my sister) and Soda. The only real difference is that my family isn't just above the poverty line. In this economy maybe we're starting to slip down there, but if that's the only difference... shit. I'm in for a ride.

Moving on...

Grease got a Hold: I did watch the performance of this for Good Morning America or whatever it showed up on so this isn't my first time listening. This is the first time I can't tell who is who. I looked up the cast so I think the first singer is Dally? IDK. It's the whole gang except Johnny. This is when I discovered that Steve was in fact a named ensemble character.

Not my favorite song. But I'm sure that it introduces everyone well. I don't mind it, just def my least favorite of the ones I'd heard before.

Runs in the Family: I'm pretty sure it's a Darry song. Shit. I feel this song. I am literally Darry in this song, except I have parents, they're just not around a whole lot due to work.

I think I mentioned here that I work at a Nursing home. And especially during the winter if I worked twelves (luckily I'm PRN, so I can pick up shorter shifts) I'd be in before the sun and out after it. That is one of the worst feelings I've ever felt. You feel like you didn't do a damn thing but your so tired you can't do anything so you end up getting down and just scrolling while you eat and you barely have energy to grab something to eat. Had I not been still living at home I would have just gone through a drive through. You are a different kind of tired after a long day of taking people to the toilet and passing meds and working with memory care patients as they sundown.

So while I'm not a roofer, I'm not out every night working till midnight, I think I can relate to Darry the best out of the three here, being an eldest daughter an all especially. I like this song as a character set up, though I have to point out it sounds like he's whining but I also know I've done this so like... I can't complain if I wanna keep my whining privileges.

Great Expectations: This is the first song out, I'm sure we've all heard it. It's about Ponyboy relating to Pip, one of the characters in the book Great Expectations I think by Charles Dickens. I never read it in school I think due to Covid so...

That being said, great song. Still very much relate to him and his wanting to get the hell outta town but feeling trapped by family and obligations. Like I get the kid is only fourteen, and S.E. Hinton was about this age when she wrote this but it is raw and I still feel it.

Come on, we've all felt like everyone expects everything of us and have just wanted to get swept up in a fictional reality where shit is hard but we know everything will be just fine in the end, right? Right?

The line about Darry hits harder after Runs in the Family. His bit about Johnny has always hit me too, because I've always wondered (anxiously, of course) about what my life would've been like had I been born to different parents. And as much as I think about that, pretty sure I'm lucky to have what I have and I'll take it over worse.

Friday at the Drive-in: So there is also a drive in in my city, and I've been several times. I freakin' love it, and it's kind of sad that they're disappearing. This chapter/scene/song has always been a favorite of mine in all Outsiders media. I love Cherry's actress. She's able to do a more country/southern accent without it sounding like a characture. Kudos to her. I'm sure this song is really cool to see in person.

I Could Talk to You All Night: Confession time: I don't like Cherry. I understand that maybe she does have a rough life, but it has always rubbed me wrong the way she told Ponyboy it's "rough all over". Bitch, both his brothers work to keep their house you shut up. Like I went through highschool with my mom hurt, grandpa dying, Covid, a whole lotta other shit and some kid literal told me to off myself b/c I got in his space while practicing a tap number for the musical. Also, I was working through the entire school year. It wasn't terribly uncommon among my peers, but to be in the musical was a sacrifice on my part and we just... we couldn't see under each others skin. My school was on the west side and his family was new money, so I guess he and Cherry are alike in my eyes in that way (even had the same hair, lol). I didn't know what was going on with him and I guess when he broke up with his gf (she was a senior and he was a junior) he got better.

That being said, I really like Cherry's character in this song. They see each other beyond the labels for the first time in their lives. It sort of feels like a love song, but also not so much, and I really dig it. I may eat my words later but I like this version of Cherry. She comes off a lot less snooty than book/movie Cherry. Its so cute.

Runs in the Family (Reprise): Shit. Darry. Okay. The silent oldest sibling burden has fucking snapped. Bro. This is so good. Seeing what all was going on behind his outburst at Ponyboy. Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm even more in love with Darry's character. Shit. The oldest sibling being a parent when the parents aren't there. The younger siblings all leading into it. The abrupt stop that is Darry slapping Pony. I wanna scream IT IS SO FREAKINNG WELL DONEOAWE RUH!!!!!! I can practically hear Pony throwing open the screen door and Darry yelling back that he didn't mean it!I@ :OUhoihlacwijhr ;iuaweh' riu

Far Away From Tulsa: Oh, oh Pony. You're innocene it showing honey. This is the one thing I feel I've got on him is that I actually live on the edge of town, so I really live within a smattering farm fields and disappearing small farm towns. Those people will be judgey as hell, they will stalk you anyway possible to get info on you and there will be rumors. Like I love that you two have a dream, but we're getting into Of Mice and Men territory with Lenny and George (is that his name?) with the rabbit farm.

Also, are they changing Pony and Johnny's motivations? Obviously I'd have to watch this but this sounds like they might be changing their motivations a bit.

The transition into Great Expectations!!! The leitmotif!??! The key change?!?!?! HOLY FUCKING SHITHLIUWE RHF AIVCWH TLGIUAWEHCFIUHA. I'm screaming!!!!! But they're dream sounds like a cowboy western fantasy. And the ending where they talk about that not being in Tulsa... realy gives me pause. I think maybe their motivations changed just a bit? BUt IDK cause I'll never get to fuckin' watch this because I am but a poor midwesterner and Broadway is a bitch.

Run Run Brother: Shit. I love this. The little boys coming to Dally. The only one they can trust to know this. This is the loss of innocence in real time. The implication that he gave them all he had (the 50 bucks) is realized here. The song sounds so frantic. Aggggg. It's so good.

The background: if you're not born into money your born into despair? The background singers are great. Grease isn't given its something you earn??? Shit. Run through the fire your bound to get burned? They really like using fire as a symbol (for obvious reasons).

The transition into "You're a Greaser now and you ain't going back?" Like he literally cannot go back. Johnny killed a kid and Ponyboy would be tried as an accomplice probably. Cheezits this is so fucking good! The wrapping back to earlier songs is so freaking well done! The desperation in whoevers voice pointing out the sign to Windrixville? I love.

Justice for Tulsa: Did they come up with a new character? Are there others? Is this the Greasers talking to each other? Immediatly suspecting Dally? So they added the interrogation that he mentions he got brought into.

Is Cherry at Bob's funeral? Honey, he's an asshole. Like I get he could've been cool but gees. I'm torn up about her. They made her way more complicated. So far I'm glad for Dally and Cherry's sake that they added this scene.

Is this Darry or Soda? No. It's a Soc. Is it Randy? Oh I love his voice. Shit, is she grilling him? She's talking about Johnny. Randy. Are they getting onto her for talking with Pony. What she did wasn't wrong? Yeah, it's a senseless tragedy. If you pushed him into it.

So this is the explanation of how they started jumping Greasers and how that tension switched things up. This might be the Act break? But I'm not sure.

Death's at My Door: Is he talking about his parents dying?

Oof. I feel him. So in my life I had a series of deaths where my grandma died, then two years later my grandpa died (different sides of the family), then a kid at my college died going home for winter break. Then a girl from my highschool died going back to school after winter break. Then working at a nursing home every time, I come back someone else is dead. So, I feel that sentiment that it feels like death is following you. But that is just growing up, and I think this is Ponyboy finally sort of coming to that realization a bit.

Are they adding romantic elements to Pony and Johnny's relationships, or is this just really flirty platonic stuff? Because now I'm confused. And I'm someone who does really flirty platonic shit with my friends.

Throwing in the Towel: Oh it's a Darry song. Oh. Darry feels guilty. Shit. Okay. Is he making up with Soda? I'm a bit upset that Soda has been jipped in here. Long list of failures, same here Darry.

Oh. Soda. Soda, ever the middle child. Trying to keep the peace, trying to hype Darry up. Their being the brothers we always knew they would.

There little harmony part is so good!

Soda's Letter: I have heard this one as well. We are finally getting a Soda song!! But still, ever the middle child, trying to keep the peace between the oldest and the youngest. Dammit. I like that they added context to the letter, since it's a bit briefer in the book/movie.

The fade in of Pony singing over Soda is so good.

Hoods Turned Heroes: I love the name on this. I think this is Two-Bit singing this. Interesting that they skipped over the fire incident and Johnny talking to them at Dairy Queen. I like that it's Soda and Two-Bit in this song. I love them as a duo. And I love that we get a Greaser son in response to Justice for Tulsa.

Interesting how they changed it to 1st degree murder for Johnny's charge, because it was manslaughter and I seriously doubt there's enough evidence to even get second degree murder.

Hopeless War: Another Pony and Cherry song. I do like the musical duo of them so far. He's not wrong about the soc's declaring the war. Cherry's also not wrong, but girlfriend, your privelage is showing.

Shit, she got a point about black and white morality. "Same mistake a thousand times" "Doing what we've all been raised to do."

Shit. I like this version of Cherry. This sounds like a country love ballad and I am all here for it. Seems like act 2, like many musicals I've seen, has fewer/shorter songs.

Geez, Cherry. Okay. I still like the Cherry best out of all of them. But girl, you've gotta understand that this kids got more skin in the game than you do. Girl. IDK, this version of Cherry is just more nuanced and I think that's what she needed.

Trouble: The way Hopeless War tansitions into this song is so fucking good!!!!

So I don't know if this is at the park or the Gang going to the park but holy shit. I love this. Is Darry trying to keep Pony out? Or is Dally? Who is telling him not to fight? Didn't book Darry let him fight??!

Little Brother: I have heard this one before as well. It's a Dally song, and it still makes me awe;u hgseruig. This is my favorite version of the Dally and Johnny relationship because it solidifies the brotherhood and the way that Dally see's Johnny. It's done fairly well in the book but the musical makes it much more clear. Even the movie does it pretty well but I like that it's a bit more spelled out here.

I think I've heard all of these last three songs so they'll maybe be a bit more in depth. Also, I am gonna say this now Grease got a Hold is growing on me as I type.

I don't really like how Johnny feels very shoe horned to the side in this version of events.

Is... is someone singing with him on the second little brother in the first chorus? Could that be Darry or am I just trippin'?

I love the way that they show Dally's descent. Oh. There's a chorus on here with him. They put a different version out on YouTube with just Dally on it. Holy shit. Holy shit!!!! I love his voice so much. When are the lyrics gonna be up I gotta see who sings what in here damn it!!!

Dally. Shit. The part where the music strips and then starts building. This will never not give me shivers. I love the orchestration on this version!

The now into no!!!!! ;jfh;ajwerhf;ija uvaiwrhf;aiu3wh I AM NOT OKAY!!!

Stay Gold: This hurts like a son of a bitch still. I can't really put my words on here, but it really is written like someone who knows they're gonna die and they're wanting to give their family a final message. Which is something you can do on hospice nowadays, but wouldn't have been avaliable in the 60's.

Can't believe we had to wait the whole musical for a Johnny solo song. But I love the touch that a man came to thank Johnny for saving the kids, because in the book that's not mentioned and neither in the movie and I like that touch. They added just a few scenes and all were very well done if not honestly needed.

The fading of Ponyboy reading it with Johnny will never not get me. They use this technique so well throughout the musical. But again with me questioning if this is platonic flirty friend shit or Johnny and Pony being romantically involved somehow? I lean towards platonic flirty friends due to the time period and the fact that they're both on the younger side... but geez.

Johnny telling Pony to tell Dally, when we know Dally is dead and Dally asked him to save a seat and just owehtouwaehrt;ouiawe I am not okay. Will never not hurt.

Finale (Tulsa '67): Is this an older Pony on the first line? Does he get out? Or is that his teacher reading it? Like the acknowledgement of Paul Newman.

Oh. This is so sweet, him turning to the hometown heroes, the little everyday ones.

He got out!!!!!! Him talking about Darry and Soda!!

Ah! They took the one paragraph directly out of the book!!!

Dally!!! Wearing grease for their disguise? Holy shit. Bro. You are killing it! Killing it! The chorus entering!!?!?! The excerpts directly from the book!

"He was just to damn good for growing old? And for his memory I'll stay gold!?!?!??!" Holy shit okay. Emotional damage dealt. You didn't have to do that.

I love me a legacy explaning final number. Shit. I love this. Beautiful ending. I love the jazzy bits.

My phone immediatly jumped me to Non-Stop by Hamilton. Fuck you spotify, didn't need that now.

Final Thoughs: Unfortunately, this is not like Hamilton in the sense that the entire freaking musical minus one song that not terribly necessary for context is on spotify. There are chunks of context missing that make me wonder how else they may have changed the story. If you're someone who's first exposure to the outsiders is this, you're gonna be left with a lot of questions. Luckily, you've got a book and two versions of a Francis Ford Coppala movie, but if this was a stand alone I think I'd be leaving the cast recording fairly confused.

I think it's amazing. I did find out while finding a cast list to compare to the featured artists that Steve is still a character. I also wonder if they're gonna release the track they use for the rumble, since I think that's a seperate track with no real singing? IDK man. I wanna see that so fucking bad.

A little mad about how they downgraded Soda and Two-Bit. I know Two-Bit was more of a minor character but it really felt like Soda got the short end of the stick here. Same with Steve, though he already had the short end so it was only a matter of time. Two-Bit makes sense despite my love of him so I kind of expected that.

Overall, I do like this, but it feels a bit incomplete as I believe some of the most critical plot details have been left for portions of the musical that are acted or spoken, which sucks for us broke ass plebs who don't live within driving distance of Broadway.

So long friends.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED

Oh Anon you're so real for this. Honestly anyone who dared claim 'vmin divorce' should be sued because what we got to see today? There was never any talk of divorce, ever, if anything there was a vow renewal haha

When we heard that Tae would have a fan meeting as part of his Layover promo, we joked around about how cute it'd be if Jimin would come as special guest but ultimately dismissed the idea. We didn't want to get our hopes up concluding that likely there would be no guest or it could be someone else. So imagine our endless surprise when suddenly pictures and videos hit the TL on twt showing Jimin up on stage with Tae. No joke, I nearly dropped my phone and then thought there's no way, I had to be seeing things. I mean, I was but my eyes were not lying to me. Introduced as his best friend.

So not only did Tae's fan meeting give us Tae performing and having fun with ARMY, it also gave us Tae having fun with Jimin with ARMY. Jimin also spoke about how while preparing for today, Tae called him and asked him if he'd want to come so he'd asked if that would be okay, but in the end, he came as quickly as he could. And isn't that the sweetest thing? Having your first solo fan meeting and having your soulmate right there by your side to experience this with?

Please do check out this video of Jimin coming up on stage and Tae being so happy, it seemed like he didn't know what to do with himself and all this emotions so he smacked Jimin's ass, after Jimin cutely smiled at him, and then pulled him closer by the hip. Very vmin behaviour. Somebody hold me because I might combust.

Speaking of pulling people closer, we also got at least two endlessly adorable vmin hugs that had us yelling as well. The way Jimin closed his eyes? I cannot even.

Tae and Jimin also played games with ARMYs, including one person who came dressed as Bart Simpson saying they did it simply because it hoped it would make Tae happy and smile. How sweet is that? That's the kind of things Tae deserves, ARMYs showing him just how much they love and appreciate him because truly, look at him and tell me how anyone can dislike him. They did challenges and played ping pong and even danced, including Tae and Jimin dancing to Go Go with Jimin looking at Tae as though knowing that Tae is their choreography memory king and obviously he remembered every step. And we also got this sweet moment of Jimin caressing Tae's head.

We also had Tae announcing unplanned things like them going to Running Men together as well as this:

Mandakkoo translation on twt: Tae: first of all...me and jiminie..will work on a much cooler song..... Jimin: ..if you're like this then u Really have to do itㅋㅋ he just keep- talking bout things like this y'knowㅋㅋ u really Have to do it then... Tae: ..alright!

Which was brought upon by Tae and Jimin spontaneously singing Friends together with them finally singing the You Are My Soulmate line together, being cute AF while doing so, and making everyone cry in the process of it all. Earlier Tae also had Jimin sit down and sang him happy birthday along with ARMY as surprise. So cute!

How could these devastatingly cute smiles ever lie? Also the manager smiling at them, awww.

In the end, after their second super cute hug, with their arms still around each other, they sat down on the stage with their backs toward the audience so they could take a picture with ARMY to commemorate this day.

And just as Jimin was leaving the stage, Tae called out his name and shyly did a cute heart pose for him and got a heart back.

Generally there were just so many cute little moments that, after a year of comparatively barely any vmin, reaffirmed the fact that just because we don't see it, that doesn't mean it isn't there, as in, just because vmin don't constantly tell us about them hanging out or talking or doing something, that doesn't mean they don't still do that. Like that Jeju trip from which Tae posted pictures on his IG with Jimin and JK. If Tae didn't tell us, we wouldn't have ever known that this trip happened. Tae and Jimin were and still very much are soulmates, the vibe when they interact and look at each other so filled with mutual adoration and this soft spot they have for one another, and their bond is just as strong and beautiful as it was and will always be. As Tae said in the BTS book, Jimin is someone he can't live without and, from their TV appearance in 2021, Jimin is the person he likes the most.

But speaking of Tae liking Jimin the most and whatnot, I thought this anon message we got yesterday also fit in with this quite well:

From Anon: Did you see taehyung once again showed jimin a piece of art, this time jimin as an elf? Imagine being the fbi agent responsible for monitoring taehyung's phone and everyday you go like ''here we go again'' when taehyung pulls up 10+ jimin fanart tabs again

For those of you who might've missed it, during his birthday live Jimin shared what looks like an AI piece of art depicting Jimin as elf in a fantasy setting. He said Tae was the one who showed it to him and it made him giggle so much! Later as part of his public birthday wishes to Jimin, Tae posted another piece of AI art of Jimin this time as hunter/warrior also in a fantasy setting. This makes this the second and third time we've heard and seen Tae spend time on Jimin fan art since the moon tattoo on Jimin's back was also inspired by a piece of Jimin fan art that Tae had sent to him saying how cool it looked.

There were also a few silly little theories about what if Tae made those fantasy AI Jimin's himself, since some time ago he'd asked about a program or something to do this, but if that's what happened, who knows, but the thought is very Tae.

So yeah, after a long time without vmin, today was a day that just kept on giving and I hope Tae and Jimin got to have that drink they mentioned they would get together after the fan meeting. What a day to be a vminnie, wow.

Lastly there was this twt that I very much agreed with so I thought I'd share, it said: the way taehyung is so overjoyed that jimin is here with him? if he was any more giddy in love i’m positive he would’ve kissed jimin there and then

What a mood.

[saphhicwitchbitch]

Six

Another Steddie imagine au. This time Steve and Eddie work in a theatre company and this year they are doing a Chicago play performance. So Steve as a pretty boy gets cast as one of the cell block tango ladies. He specifically plays Annie, the one that sings ”Six”. Why this is important? We get to that in a bit.

So Eddie as a very dramatic, energetic person who loves performing has had a main role for the last few years. However, this year is different because his manager decided to give him the challenge of not being in the spotlight for once, instead, he will be a dancer for the cell block tango. At first, Eddie is pissed. Like come on, he has talent that can be used, not just dancing for one song. So on his way to his first rehearsal he’s in a bit of a mood. But he goes along with it and acts amicable when needed, treats his instructors nice, and comes to find that he actually likes learning the dances.

A few weeks later practise is going fine, apparently the dancers playing the 6 girls will be ready to rehearse their partner dances soon. Which means that the next few sessions are dedicated to the individual moves each of the men do when the ladies are dancing with them. Eddie finds out that he is partnered to Annie, which is cool. The start of his dance is literally standing, then laying on the floor while Annie does her routine, then the main tango steps that they were all taught (basically the same dance she does in the movie). He thought that this was going to be easy.   

He was wrong.

When they introduced the cast playing the main six girls, Eddie knew he was screwed. Because in the mains was one of the most gorgeous men he ever has the blessing of laying his eyes upon.

Steve. 

This Steve is wearing a very little amount of clothes : booty shorts that barely cover anything, a crop top/lingerie bralette thing, and thigh harnesses. So of course, Eddie is enamoured with him. This gift in the form of a man reaffirms to him that this is not as bad as he initially believed it to be. There is literally a Greek god standing in front of him. So while he doesn't get to use the full extent of his talent on stage, at least he can ogle Adonis.

While waiting to get paired up with whoever is playing Annie, Eddie is approached by Steve. They strike up a conversation where there is defiantly flirting on both parts, a few teasing lines thrown at each other and overall an amazing conversation. At this point Eddie is fully convinced Steve is a true angel, the perfect man for him. 

Then partners are announced. 

Now Eddie knew he was dancing with Annie, he was prepared for this already. What he wasn’t prepared for was the fact that Steve plays Annie. 

Practise starts, “Pop” lady and her partner get through their section, then it is Eddie and Steve’s turn. 

And Holy Fuck.

“ I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about two years ago “

One foot in front of the other, Steve struts towards Eddie. His voice dripping with lust as he sings on the most perfect raspy voice that has ever existed. He comes to a stop in front of Eddie, lays his hand upon eddies chest and slowly starts to stoke downwards. His touch light and teasing, fingers gently dancing along the material as they head further south. Then he reaches up again, hands grasp firmly on Eddies shoulder and push him violently to the floor. Eddie looks up in time while on the ground to see Steve’s decent. Fucking beautiful. Steve slowly slides into the splits over Eddies body. Coming to rest, lightly sitting mere inches above Eddie’s rapidly developing boner. The song continues, and Steve keeps singing, seemingly unaware of Eddies crisis. But then it gets worse. Steve leans down onto Eddie, pressing his whole upper body against eddies chest ,face coming closer and closer each lyric that is sung...

“ I fixed him his drink as usual”

Teeth graze the side of eddies neck as Steve bites into the red cloth that is tucked just under a strap near his throat. It is seductive, tantalising, alluring. Slow and sensual as every nerve in eddies being is set alight by the rough drag of the material being raked across his neck from Steve’s teeth.

“ You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic”

The energy changes, slow seduction has been halted. Now they must switch to the hot, animalistic, sexual nature of the tango. They grip each other tight. Eyes focused only on each other. Minds empty of anything but the raw passion they have for the other as they twist, turn, kick, and dip to the rapid tempo. Consumed with one another for the rest of the dance. Souls promising the other that more will happen as the final beats of the tango come into fruition. The music stops. They stop dancing. Panting. Breathless. Gasping for air. One of Eddies hand is clutching onto Steve’s thigh, pulling it up and close around his hips. The other gripping onto the small of Steve’s back, holding him up in their final position while Steve’s hands are desperately clinging to Eddie’s chest.

Steve catches his breath, and looks up towards Eddie. His eyes becoming sultry once more and a grin spreads across his face.

 “ how about we do that again sweetheart?”

[parkminijiminie]

As expected jk didn't do shit on his own album but instead was handed songs from western writers and producers by the company bc he was too lazy to work on his own album and took the easy way out bc he desperately wants to be a big pop star in the west. Bang pd already said in a recent interview that the only reason jk was releasing an album was bc of 🛴 since apparently jk wasn't even sure if he even wanted to release a album but yet he wants to be a big ass pop star without putting any work in. What pisses me off is that jk constantly does the bare ass minimum and gets rewarded for it while the other put their blood sweat tears into their music and gets nothing in return. Jk really sold-out for fame and I have zero respect for him as a artist.

The truth is that many successful (pop) artists don't write their own songs. There are great vocalists and performers who don't write or produce but are still wildly successful. That being said, one of the biggest reasons for BTS's success is their personal involvement and message in their own music. This is something that attracted many people to them and separated them from other big acts in the industry. In that sense, I understand people who feel somewhat betrayed by the lack of involvement of JK in his debut album.

My personal belief is that music is better when it has a meaningful connection to the one performing it, and that is best achieved when said perfomer actively participates in the creation of the music. Almost nobody writes and produces songs alone nowadays. It's always somewhat a team effort, so it saddens me not to see JK's name anywhere, in any capacity, especially considering that he actually can write good songs and has done it in the past.

I believe that the clues to the reason for JK's lack of contributions can be found in his behavior at the beginning of this year. I think JK was burned out , he needed rest and maybe was a little depressed, hence why he wasn't sure if he even wanted to release anything. It's possible that he tried to write and produce music but was suffering from a writer's block and lack of inspiration. After working non-stop for 13 years, he probably also enjoyed his first ever chance to be lazy and do things that many "normal" people don't even appreciate, like watching TV, meeting with friends, working out and even staying home. I assume he really needed time to recharge, but the thing is, JK didn't actually have much time to indulge himself and wait to be inspired. Producing an album on your own takes a lot of time, months, if not years, and JK's time to do it was running out, with military service on the near horizon.

As it was, JK seemed to have had only three choices:

Postpone the enlistment and try to do the album on his own,

Not releasing anything before enlisting,

Relying on the company's connections.

Delaying the enlistment would have been met with a lot of negativity and would have messed up the plans for the 2025 reunion, so that was not a good option. Not releasing anything seemed to be where JK was at at the beginning of the year, but then again, he must have felt a lot of pressure to do an album: from the company, from the fans who have been waiting for one for a lot of time and would be disappointed if only he if all the members didn't release anything, and pressure from his own self because he knew this was his only chance to do solo music before enlistment and the reunion of the group.

In my opinion, it is Hybe's poor management and planning of the whole enlistment, as well as the rush for a group reunion as soon as possible, that led to a lot of what we have seen in Chapter 2 so far. Maknae line doesn't have to enlist for at least 2 years, in Jungkook's case, even four. Had the younger members been given more time to actually rest and work on their music, I think both Tae and JK would have participated more in their albums, and JM would have had a much more peaceful and well-organized promotions. Trying to fit everyone's releases in just a year and a half led to a lot of pressure on everyone to produce, deliver, and release their music. It led to clashing shedules, overwhelming the fandom, and a lot of separation among the fans. Each of the members must have felt the pressure of time running out, the expectations of the company and the fandom, the weight of not tarnishing the BTS name and their own long-supressed desires for self-expression through solo works.

Some of them, like the hyung line, had no problem managing this pressure and finishing their albums, but these members had a lot of previous experience writing and producing songs for the group and all of them had released solo music before, so they knew what to do and how to do it. For Maknae line, it was different. While they had participated in writing for the group, none of them had ever taken a solo project from start to finish. They had a lot of learning to do, even with the help of the company. It was a bigger challenge for them.

JM is the one who definitely stands out because he is the only one from Maknae line who actually managed to participate in every part of the production and release of his album. Not only that, but he successfully combined artistry with commercial success and didn't compromise either of those goals. But Jimin started very early, and he seemed to have had very strong inspiration for his work. And even then, he said it was very hard, and it took him 10 months. The payoff is that he now knows a lot better what he has to do and will have a much easier time when he decides to release another album. He did work harder but also smarter in the long run.

Realistically , both JK and Tae could also have done it. They have written songs, and both of them said last year that they were working on music, but people work in different ways. Some of us need more time to rest before we can work again. Some people suffer from lack of inspiration or mental health issues and lack of motivation to do tasks. Sometimes, you start something but then feel it lacking down the line and you have to start over. It is not always just laziness.

It is true that JK took the easy way out. A lot of people apparently want to work with him, and his album has some of the biggest names in the industry, and he took the opportunity. Maybe Bang and Scooter had a role in him accepting. Perhaps it was them who convinced him that if he did it this way, he would be very successful and would become "the main pop boy." He has always been ambitious and has wanted to be an artist as big as JB, Shawn Mendes, and the likes, so he was tempted and eventually took the chance. It is a shortcut, yes. And no, this isn't the way BTS the group does things, but this isn't Bangtan. This is Jungkook, the solo artist.

Each of us, who have been fans of the group for certain reasons like their authenticity, personal messages, and integrity, has to make a choice now whether we want to support JK's solo endeavor or not. He doesn't own us anything, but you also don't owe him your support. If the way JK is managing his solo career doesn't fit your ideals and principles, you are free to ignore his music (however intensively promoted, it will for sure be).

Personally, I am not mad at Jungkook for choosing this direction, but I am a little disappointed and disheartened to see no involvement from him in this album. Despite that, I won't write "Golden" off yet. I will give this music a chance because good music is good music. I have listened to many artists who didn't write their own songs and enjoyed them a lot. That being said, those artists would never be able to aspire in me the same level of respect, loyalty, and support in comparison to people who actually put their heart and soul in their work, like Bangtan and Jimin.

While I don't harbor hate towards Jungkook, when it comes to Hybe, my personal feelings are definitely one of resentment and negativity right now. I understand that they see Jungkook as more marketable and as a good tool for their "US domination" goal, but the blatant difference of the level of investment and promotion between him and all the other members combined, frankly infuriates me, and should infuriate anyone who call themselves an Army. The problem isn't that JK didn't write his own music so much, as the fact that there is clear disparity between the money and connections used for his career and for all the other boys. Hybe did more for his two singles than for all the others' releases combined.

In all honesty, the only one whose debut was managed well and promoted like a true big artist and member of the biggest group in the world is Jungkook. All the others were treated like they were some up-and-coming indie artists with insignificant small releases. Bare minimum promotion and even fewer expectations for success, which was completely unbefitting of 5/7 of one of the biggest musical acts in the whole world.

Chapter 2 definitely shows what Bang PD and the other high-ranking executives think of each member and how much the company values them, as individuals.

[rubbishmor]

One direction used to be my favourite band.

Liam was my favourite member.

He remained as my favourite solo artist among the boys after the hiatus.

When Teardrop got released earlier this year I never thought it'd be the last song we get from Liam. I still remember listening to it on loop, hoping that he will get better and come back with a new album. I loved the song so much.

And now, the sudden realisation of 'this really is the end' hits too hard.

I remembered those afternoons many years ago, when I watched 1d music videos again and again in my room. The boys were laughing, splashing water onto each other's face. They were the definition of youth and happiness themselves. They were innocence and sunshine. I miss them just like I miss the 2010s, my 2010s.

Years later I found myself in the UK. I've been to some places where they filmed their mvs. I walked on the night streets in London and thought about the nights they sang on top of the open air double decker as it drove around the whole city.

London is too old a city for any building to have changed through the decade. But there's no band called one direction to be found around the same places any more.

I know the old times will never come back, just like the boys would never come back and be the same as before. But I always thought future can be anything. They were all so young when it started, so I naturally believed that one day the boys will get back together and share the stage again, and that would be the time they laugh and chat about all the things they did in the past.

How could it not be?

Liam's death is like shattering the most beautiful memory into pieces, the sharp edges brutally cut through my skin. It hurts. It bleeds. It shouts the painful truth out too cruelly. And as blood slowly spreaded on the floor, we eventually came to the end, to the realisation that we really can never get back any more.

I barely experienced the same level of mental pain he must have come through. But I knew it's a terrible feeling to not be able to be good enough myself. Even these days, a few days before his death more news and comments critisised him, I still can't develop any hate. He used to always be the kind and caring one. He used to be the one speaking for the group. He did charity. He was always kind to his fans. He loved being a good person and he wanted to be loved as a good person too. How could I possibly hate him?

When I saw Liam's name trending on Wednesday night I clicked the name thinking okay what did he do this time?

The heartbroken feeling was what eventually came to me. At the very beginning it was just pure shock. I felt like I suddenly don't understand english words anymore.

I simply can't blame him for anything. I can't be like those ones saying bad things like 'it's his fault he must have taken drugs'. They said it that easily, making it almost like he deserved to die. I'm just sad for the boy smiling and singing many years ago. He used to light up my day, make my eyes shine bright when I look at them. I'm so sorry he didn't grow up happily, so sad because he became the victim of a terrible industry. He was the one who started the first line in What Makes You Beautiful, he finished the last line in History in their last group performance. They sang in their lyrics, they could be the greatest team that the world has ever seen, they said that it was not the end, that they could make some more, could live forever. This really is not how it is supposed to end.

The police said they found anxiety medicine in the hotel room. They said he was completely clean before. They talked about him being dropped by the label and the album he couldn't finish. They suspected that he might not be conscious at all when he fell.

Had he thought about dying one day, would he still have chosen this career? Was he regretful when he talked in an interview about the struggles he almost could not make it to the day? Had he thought about not waking up from the mess the next day any more? Was music his last hope when he talked about the past suicidal thoughts? I almost found myself hoping that he had never fully recovered from the depressing thoughts - if a tiniest part of this nightmare was something he had ever thought about doing, would it make this tragedy a bit less pitiful? Because I would be too heartbroken if he suffered from all the bad things and didn't give up his hope, only to be coldly killed by fate in the end.

But his girlfriend shared that in his personal notes he was planning a proposal. Other artists he used to collaborate with shared recordings of their unreleased music. People from various organisations talked about the donation he made. Some I didn't even know as a fan. Everyone mentioning how kind and charming a person he was and it makes my heart break now that he was gone and his future forever lost to the void.

In the end I still felt lucky to have people telling me it's Ok to feel sad for someone I've never seen, grateful to have my friends who weren't fan to check on me and see if I'm alright. I felt being loved and I wish Liam could as well see how much he was loved after his death.

I will miss him. I will miss the shyly smiling boy with his curly hair, the worldwide famous lad with the 4 arrow shaped tatoos on his arm, the solo artist who created Sunshine, Polaroid and Live Forever, his jumping while singing along the song, body vibing to the rythm, the careful, gentle start of One Thing, like the heart fluttering of the first love, hesitant asking in the bridge of I Would, and husky, deep voice in Drag Me Down, right to the beat.

I wish in a different universe, the boys achieved their dreams in the end. I wish they did everything they loved and became the people they wanted to be. I wish the story ended with a happy ever after. Maybe in that universe, there are still dinosaurs alive, and people never invented spoons.

[prettyandsarcastic]

heart on the stage

Seven (@infamous-if)/MC

≈2,300 words

Mentions of substance/alcohol abuse

EDIT: I had to repost this because I noticed I got Avina's pronouns wrong. Also added some things.

Music to read by: "Euclid" by Sleep Token 

The whiskey sears down her throat as Munroe throws back the shot, so used to it now that it no longer comes with the full body shiver as it settles in her empty stomach. For courage, she tells herself, has to tell herself. Not to dull the ache in her chest or the pounding between her ears, or burn out the sharp pain in the back of her throat. And that’s definitely why she’s taking shots in the bathroom of the green room because she’s not hiding it. No, of course not. 

Her eyes drag upwards to meet her reflection in the dirty mirror and she nearly laughs. The stage makeup just barely hides the dark circles, and the contour only draws more attention to how hollow her cheeks have become in the last months. Despite the wild, manic brightness behind her eyes, she can’t help but think how threadbare she looks. 

Munroe takes a deep, steadying breath and steps out into the green room as her bandmates all turn to her with varying degrees of concern. And why wouldn’t they? These last months they’ve seen her fall farther than she ever thought she would trying to chase away an unspeakable heartbreak, while she tried to keep the fracturing pieces of herself together long enough to get them through to the winner’s circle. And with all their eyes on her, Munroe has never been more aware of the fact that she’s become their weakest link. 

Especially after their last gig landed them in the bottom two and so close to elimination. She knows it was her fault, so out of her mind that she barely remembers performing. When she watched the performance back, saw how she staggered around the stage and skipped whole lines in the lyrics it made her physically ill. 

Her vision fills suddenly with Orion as he steps up to her. His warm hands cup her face and draw her eyes to meet his. Munroe sees herself as he sees her in the reflection of his dark eyes - blown pupils, clammy and flushed with the hint of whiskey on her breath. 

“Munroe…” he trails off, his expression crumpling in disappointment and worry. Because she promised him she’d ease up. Orion didn’t want to see her burn out, collapse on herself like a dying star and leave just as much devastation in her wake. 

Munroe appreciates Orion and everything he does, more than she could ever say, but this isn’t what she needs from him right now. She needs the man who has helped take care of her, promised to get her through this, who has kept her on just this side of breaking. She needs the calm, steady presence that she’s come to rely on - the eye in the center of the storm she's become.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, twisting her head from his hands. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We’ve never played this song live before,” Devyn pipes up. Beside them Iris anxiously gnaws on her thumb, and by the look on her face she agrees. 

Munroe sighs. “Look, I know this hasn’t exactly been the experience we expected and I know I fucked up last gig, but I need you guys to just… keep trusting me.”

She knows she’s asking a lot, but Devyn’s right. The song they have lined up for their performance has never seen the light of day. And while Munroe puts a piece of herself into every song she writes and bares herself for the world to judge with every performance, this song will be the equivalent of pulling her heart from her chest for a live audience. 

Rowan rises from his seat, nervous energy obvious in the way his fingers twitch at his side - pantomiming his chords. He’s unusually serious because he knows what this song means to her, knows what singing it is going to do to her. But he smiles wide and confident as he cups her face in much the same way Orion had. 

“We’re gonna fucking kill it,” he says, taking over Munroe’s usual task of assuring them that their performance is going to be amazing because she’s not sure she could muster her optimism. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“We’ve got your back, Munroe,” August says with a nod.

Her phone vibrates in her hand as Rowan steps away and Munroe finds a text from Sebastian: 

‘Good luck!’ 

Quickly followed by another:

‘Oh crap, I’m not supposed to say that… Break a leg! Maya and I managed to get second row! She’s practically vibrating with excitement!’

Despite herself, Munroe smiles. She can only imagine how excited Maya is going to be when she realizes the song they play is one she’s never heard. Munroe wouldn’t be surprised to see the girl combust from the stage. 

The speaker in the green room crackles to life before a tinny voice filters through: “Wanderer please make your way to the stage. Wanderer, to the stage!” 

The crowd doesn’t know it, but they’re about to witness a performance that they’re going to talk about for the rest of their lives.

.

.

Seven can’t stop smiling as the band stumbles, laughing and hollering into their green room. They gave, hands down, their best performance thus far. There’s no doubt in any of them that they’re going to make it through to the next round. One step closer to the finale. 

He feels too big for his body as he grabs and chugs a water, like he wants to run in every direction at once just to expend the pent up energy. Although he always gives everything he has into every performance, tonight feels different and his throat is on fire from singing, adrenaline bitter in the back of his throat and he can hear his blood in his ears. Nothing could kill this high. 

Not even when Avina turns on the TV and switches to the channel featuring Battle of the Bands and he hears: “Stay tuned! Up next are everyone’s favorite underdogs: Wanderer! Can they claw their way out of being in the bottom two from last show?” 

“God, turn it off,” Kieran moans, “We don’t need to watch them this time - we won this round!”

Avina turns and gives Kieran a look. Their hair is sweat-damp mess, cheeks rosy. “I want to watch it, thank you very much.”

Kieran gapes at them before turning to him, “C’mon man, I know you agree with me. Besides, after their last gig, ain’t no way they’re staying after this week.” 

Part of him wants to agree with Kieran. Wanderer bombed their last gig so badly Seven's surprised that they weren't eliminated. And it wasn't even the band's fault - it was Munroe. She'd been such a mess, so clearly not in her right mind, her voice wrecked and thready, even forgetting her own lyrics.  

But Seven’s on cloud nine, his ex could walk into their green room right now and he wouldn’t give a shit. He shrugs, “Let 'em watch it.”

The commercial break ends, the camera pans along the audience before Munroe’s band is introduced and then the lights on the stage go out completely. Seven resists the urge to roll his eyes - always with the theatrics. 

A single spotlight comes to life on the stage. Munroe is seated at a keyboard with no sign of her bandmates. Seven watches as she takes a deep breath before raising her hands to the keys and starts to play - something slower and emotional so unlike Wanderer’s previous, high energy performances. Did she really think a ballad was a good idea? 

It feels like a bucket of ice water gets upturned over his head when she begins to sing - no back up, just Munroe and the keyboard for the opening lines of the song. It’s been so long since he’s heard her play, he had almost forgotten how good she was. It feels like a lifetime ago when it was just her and her keyboard and him and his guitar writing together, falling together between chords and lyrics. 

“Turn it up,” Seven says, ignoring the surprised looks from his band. 

As the lights dim once again, the rest of the band’s vocals rise like a choir in the dark for the refrain, which surprises him because Rowan and Iris don’t usually provide backup vocals. He sees Munroe’s shadow take her mic and make its way to the front of the stage, place the mic in its stand. The rise of the band’s instruments finally coming in takes his breath away as the lights come back up and Munroe, now joined by the band, is backlit by the stage lights, her too thin silhouette outlined in the short, sheer black kaftan-like dress she’s wearing. 

These months on tour have worn her thin, broken her down in a way Seven never thought possible. Munroe is an eternal optimist, she's not like him, she pushes aside her anger, her hurt, holds it quietly inside herself and puts a smile on her face, always, because she never wants anyone to worry about her. But this tour has dulled her light, turned her into something Seven never, no matter how he felt about her, wanted to see. 

Munroe has thrown herself into self-destruction as she is wont to do. Into the parties, the hookups, and the glamor of it all - anything to avoid facing herself. She’s tried to hide the effects, but Seven notices more than he’d like - the drinking, the erratic behavior, the insomnia, the bloody noses. 

Something in his chest kicks watching her and it suddenly occurs to him - he’s never heard this song before. This is new, or at least unreleased… and then it dawns on him: This is for me. And Munroe’s singing with her entire being, all her rage and pain and heartbreak displayed on live television for someone who has barely shown her any kindness these last few months. 

And she had endured it all, his snide comments, his attutude, his disdain for her with such grace. While there were moments when Munroe seemed to reach the end of her long suffering patience, she still smiled at him, always had a kind word for most everyone, hid behind her laugh. Now, a shadow lurked behind her eyes, and Seven is forced to face the uncomfortable fact that he's, at least in part, responsible.

The camera pans to the audience that seems to be held in a daze as they watch her. And Seven understands, he really does. At her best, Munroe is magnificent on stage, something divine - a goddess demanding devotion and supplication from the masses. 

They bring Munroe in close up - there are tears lining her cheeks, but her voice is strong as ever, ringing clear throughout the venue as the song comes into the denouement. It’s as soft as the beginning of the song, with the band slowly fading out until - 

"You will never be mine…"

The lyric hits like a punch in the gut as, for a moment, the crowd is quiet in awe and then erupts into uproarious applause. He watches as Rowan sets his guitar aside and rushes Munroe, enveloping her in his arms. To the crowd and the people at home, it’s a happy hug - a celebration of just how amazing their set was, but it’s not. It’s to keep Munroe from crumpling right there on stage - he saw how her knees went weak.  

Seven’s on his feet before he even realizes he’s moved, propelled by a sudden gripping panic. He hears the questioning of his bandmates, but can’t make out the words over the roar in his ears, the way his heart wants to escape the prison of his ribs. He rips off his mic, then he’s over the back of the couch and out the door of the green room, sprinting full tilt down the hallway. 

The song wasn’t just for him. It was good-bye. It was letting him know, in the only way he’d listen, the only way he'd hear, that Munroe was letting him go. And Seven realizes he doesn’t accept it, can’t accept it. Once, not even very long ago, it was what he wanted, a freedom from the grip she's always had on his heart and soul. But he didn't realize until now just how much he unintentionally let her light and warmth back into himself because despite his behavior toward her, Munroe still tried. Tried until she was fractured and hopeless and worn. It was something he loved and loathed about her in equal measure, her refusal to give up even when she should. 

Seven bursts through the door to backstage, dodging stage crew and members of other bands. He’s managed to make it backstage in time for Wanderer to come off the stage. He has to get to Munroe before she’s mic’d up again, before the after-performance confessional. 

His body collides with hers with a surprised grunt, and for once he doesn’t care about the cameras and the people as he gathers her against his chest. 

“Seven?” Munroe chokes out. But he feels her cling to him, her hands under his vest, nails in the back of his shirt. Then she's trembling, crying softly into his chest. Finally shattering apart as he tries to hold her together.

“I’m sorry,” he says, into the damp of her hair. He has so much to apologize for, so much to make up to her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as he angles her face up to his, thumbing away fresh tears. And the awe on her face breaks something in him in turn, because he knows she doesn't believe he's there. 

“I’m sorry,” he says against her lips. They have so much lost time to make up. 

And kissing Munroe feels like a sun rising in his chest, like being found, like coming home. 

[writingfics-passingtime]

For the mixtape drabble:

I hear a symphony + bucky or loki (ur choice)

Plsss :))

Who We Really Are

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: I Hear a Symphony

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (platonic, no pronouns used)

Word Count: 1700

CW: Mentions of relatives passing away, mentions of HYDRA/neo n*zi groups, guns, very mild violence

Note: Thank you for this beautiful song, anon. This story idea came almost immediately and I couldn’t quite imagine it with Loki but I think Bucky fit so very sweetly. Hope you like it 💜

“Thank you,” the bespectacled theatre manager gushed his thanks towards Bucky and then, in turn, to you. “Thank you both,” he nodded and smiled as much as he could, revealing lines of worry etched so deep he must have been managing people for most of his career.

“It’s no problem,” you nodded back before you all got distracted by the commotion of some beat cops hauling the suspect through the lobby and out the front door.

Bucky’s breath turned heavy next to you. He pulled his handgun from his concealed carry holster to check the rounds left; it was a sure fire sign he was uncomfortable and wanted to leave. Besides, you two weren’t even supposed to be here.

Sam Wilson had been in contact a few days before to deliver some intel on a fringe neo-Nazi group based out of Chicago that was starting to stink of HYDRA. Could be some descendants of the original genocidal maniacs, or just some wannabe badasses, but in the past year you worked together you’d never seen Bucky so restless. Which, you supposed, was the reason Cap put you both on the job.

You two were walking down the street to find food and debrief when some uniformed workers had scrambled out of a grand stone theatre building.

Then, gunshots.

You both bolted inside, fearing the worst.

It turned out to be a jilted ex-lover of one of featured performers of tonight’s symphony, who “just wanted to have a conversation” with the woman who’d left him months ago. The gunshots had thankfully been towards the roof, as a warning, as a demand for attention. The man was so distracted delivering his monologue that he barely noticed Bucky had effortlessly disarmed him… until he was on the ground with a knee against his upper back and a metal arm smooshing his cheek into the carpet.

Some real hero shit, you’d mumbled to Bucky and he’d given you some side-eye. But now that the threat was in custody, Bucky was itching to go.

“Local PD will handle it from here,” you straightened up and shifted on one foot, Bucky relaxed now knowing you two wouldn’t be stuck here. You had an important job to do.

Bucky nodded politely after being thanked again, and let his shoulders drop when the manager had walked away, now knowing you three wouldn’t be trapped in an awkward loop of gratitude and reassurance.

The recon trip you and him were on wasn’t urgent by any means but the mere thought of a HYDRA resurgence made his skin crawl. He had to admit, when Sam pointed out that The Vanishing was a good distraction, a good cover for these people to regroup, Bucky felt like he had fire ants burrowing through his veins.

He turned to leave but saw your eye catch something. “What?” He asked, snapping his holster shut with a gloved hand.

Your mouth hung slack but you quickly closed it and physically shook away some memory. “N-nothing, it’s just-” you paused and shook your head again. “Nothing,” you turned and smiled to him. “My grandfather was a concert pianist and my grandma took me to this show when I was younger. I was just a kid when they died, and I think it was one of the last times I ever stayed with them.”

Bucky saw you smile, but this was different. There was a sadness swirling in your eyes, and a longing for some piece of the past. Everything was so different now.

It was hard to admit to himself, because he was desperate to make bigger strides in the potential HYDRA investigation, but that nagging feeling whispered what he should do.

“Well, do you wanna go tonight?”

He knew it was a stupid question the second it left his lips. Of course you’d say no; you’d seen how agitated he’d been and there was no way in hell you’d let this mission be steered off-course for one more second.

As expected, you shook your head. “We’re not here for that,” you gave a firm look and started walking towards the entrance.

He caught up and matched your step, sighing, “They owe us, you know. They’d let us in for free-”

“Barnes,” you halted and turned to him, levelling him with an honest stare. “Let’s be real for a second: we keep the world safe so the public can come to shows. We don’t wear the fancy clothes and sit in the audience. That’s not who we are.” You turned and kept walking, throwing over your shoulder, “C’mon, we have a job to do.”

Bucky clenched his jaw at your stubbornness, and he internally mapped the layout of the theatre, the exits, the seats, the stage.

He knew was he needed to do.

You had no idea what he was planning.

Not even later that day, when he let himself into the room of your hotel suite. You shot a look from where you were lounging on your bed and reading through an updated dossier Cap had some analysts draw up. “You forget how to knock?”

He tossed your jacket and it landed right on top of the tablet in your hand. “Get up, we need to go.”

Your heart rate spiked. “Did something happen?” You turned and slipped on your boot, already with one arm in the sleeve of the jacket.

“We’re gonna be late,” he called from the living room. Key twinkled in his hand.

“Barnes!” You scoffed and rushed to follow him. He was already in the hallway walking towards the elevator by the time you caught up. “What’s going on? Shit, my gun’s in the-”

“You don’t need it.”

He jabbed the elevator button and it opened immediately. Your impatience manifested in you planting your feet, crossing your arms and sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and snatched your wrist just before the doors started to close, hauling you inside as you protested with more scoffs and grunts. “Hey!” He released your wrist after you shoved his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

With a decisive turn of his body, his stormy blue stare descended on you, halting the protests rising up from your belly.

“Do you trust me?”

A wave of abashment swarmed over you, because despite his behaviour he looked more gentle than you’d ever seen him.

“With my life.”

He almost smiled.

“Good,” he eased, though his voice was low and gravelly. “No more questions.”

It was several blocks of walking in silence before you put together the pieces of what must be going on. To your credit, you figured it out before the theatre came into view but still, you stopped in your tracks when it did.

“We can’t,” you protested weakly. Bucky stopped and turned to you, taking another step to turn his body into a shield from the cold-snapped wind. “Look at those people,” your hand gestured from within your jacket pocket. “We’re so underdressed.”

Bucky looked at the line of people filing into the theatre and then back to you. Worry was etched into your forehead, into the way your mouth shut tight, and how you drew your arms further into yourself. You locked eyes with him, and he nodded towards an alleyway. So you followed.

There was a fire escape and a ladder hanging down, about twelve feet off the ground, and you saw Bucky look at it.

“Oh, no way,” you smiled despite yourself. “We’re not really sneaking in, are w-woah!” You spluttered when Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, and after a few more steps he was effortlessly hoisting you up towards the ladder. You grabbed on and swung yourself up onto the metal-framed escape before clearing the way for Bucky to use his super-strength to jump up and join you. He was by your side in a second, and he’d left a dent where his vibranium fist had gripped the balustrade. You chuckled, shook your head, and challenged him, “So what now, Sergeant?”

“Follow me.”

With the natural finesse of an agent trained in reconnaissance, you followed Bucky as he led you up the escape, through a window, down a hallway, through another door that had a sign with all kinds of warnings about safety, and then onto a darkened metal walkway. The theatre was still dimly lit, alive and buzzing when you two began sneaking across the suspended tracks that housed various cables, wires and coloured lights.

A show like this wouldn’t have dramatic moving lights so you could be certain that no one would be manually operating them. Hence, you had the whole floor to yourself.

After waiting a couple of minutes for the lights to dim to near-nothing, you once again followed Bucky’s lead as he snuck towards the centre of the walkway that stretched over the middle of the audience. He took a seat, lazing his elbows around his knees, and you sat cross-legged next to him.

You didn’t really know what to say to him, but you didn’t have much of a chance; the second the music began, you were hooked in. The melodies transported you back to all those years ago.

Your hand clasped around your grandmother’s. The buzz of excitement as patrons filtered into the show. The room going dark, the music starting, your grandfather’s solo performance, the applause he got, how he was one of the stars of the show but all he wanted to do afterwards was sit in an ice cream parlour and talk about how soccer tryouts went.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the flood of emotions that surged with the dynamics of that same piano solo, played by the hands of someone who’d never personally known the greatness that’d graced those notes before. It brought you closer, your heart pulling you into the music. You leaned in, gripping the safety rail. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was magnetic, melancholic, joyous in parts, vibrant and nostalgic but hopeful.

When it ended, you looked at Bucky. He was a little blurry and your eyes felt sort of strange and tender.

He shifted closer, you rested your head against his shoulder, and as the music played on you let the tears fall.

[o0par0o]

Seven Days (2)

AO3

2. Cross Section

Every time Annette dreams of him, getting out of bed becomes especially hard. She needs extra time to carefully recall every detail of the dream, not wanting to miss a single bit. His face, in particular, is always the blurriest upon waking.

It has been over a decade since he left, and her memory of him only stayed clear when she was still little. His appearance has been gradually fading over time, becoming more of a vague concept. Yet, all of it is evidently still deeply rooted in her subconscious, vividly resurfacing in dreams only to vanish once she opens her eyes.

This feeling drives Annette crazy. It feels like there is a chasm between her waking memories and her subconscious dreams that she cannot bridge, no matter how hard she tries.

She didn’t have a single photo of him. She had tried searching his name online but only found a blurred portrait, no clearer than the concept in her mind. It was surprising, given that he was once the conductor of LA's finest orchestra, and yet the traces he left in the world were so few.

Further searches only brought up old news about his death, almost all of which exposed her father Henry McHenry’s crimes. Headlines like "The True Cause of Ann Defasno’s Death Shocks All: Hollywood Couple’s Marital Murder—Poor Annette" mentioned his passing in just a line or two. It made her feel isolated, as if she was the only person who had ever cared about him. He had no partner, no relatives ever appeared, and had barely any colleagues or friends. Like a weed by the roadside, he came to the world and left so quietly, leaving deep roots only in Annette’s heart.

Thanks to her dad, she lost everyone who loved her. First, her mom, who died when she was too young to fully grasp the world, leaving only a faint impression on her. Then a man of slight build appeared, who treated her like his own, filling the void her mom left, only to have her witness his death. Her so-called father lost the right to love her, and to her, he is now just Henry, not a father.

Since Henry’s imprisonment, she has been constantly moving from one foster home to another. Building a close relationship was harder for her than for others, not because her other guardians weren't good to her, but because her heart was already filled by that man. She kept her distance from everyone and couldn't open up. Her therapist knew her better than her guardians, which was one reason she changed foster homes so often.

Annette dragged herself out of bed, the last bit of lingering dreams washing away with the morning routine. With water still dripping from her hair, she stared at her reflection in the mirror; the deep shadows under her eyes made her look extremely tired. Maybe she should see her therapist again. Those dreams about him every night were wrecking her sleep. But she didn’t want to change them; in a way, they were fine as they were.

After turning eighteen, Annette immediately chose to live by herself. She was now legally allowed to rent her own place. Through consultations with several lawyers, she learned that the earnings from her childhood performances belonged to her. She opened her own bank account, transferred all her money, and used it to pay her rent and music academy tuition, managing her daily expenses with careful planning.

She bought a piano at home; playing it was her way to get peace, which can remind her of him. She knows before he became an outstanding conductor, he was always her mother Ann Defasno’s accompanist. So even though she is now tired of her mother's arias, she is still willing to play them on the piano, playing the songs he once played makes her feel closer to him.

College life isn’t as exciting as people say, perhaps because she doesn’t live on campus and misses out on social occasions. Or perhaps because she keeps her distance from people, which led to her not having many friends.

The school has an open rehearsal room that she often uses during her free time to eat lunch, do homework, or play the piano when no one else is using it. Usually, students come and go, minding their own business, barely noticing her.

Today being Friday, most students have their own weekend plans and leave earlier, leaving only her in the rehearsal room, which is actually the best. The room is lit only by two fluorescen lights above the piano, and the space in the back is gradually darkening, like an unknown space. Annette listens to the echo of people walking back and forth outside the door, the sounds of shoes scuffing against the marble floor, feeling as though she were in another world.

Sitting at the piano stool, she lifted the lid and let her fingers glide over the keys, various pieces flashing through her mind, both practiced and unpracticed pieces, and the figure from last night’s dream also flashed through. Then, her wrists hovered above the keys, gently, slowly, playing his song.

She still remembers her first toy piano and how he taught her to play this song on it. He played on the piano while she mimicked on her small one, creating a contrast in sound that felt like throwing pebbles into a pond rippled by rain.

She can still vividly recall his long, slender fingers pressing the keys, the fingertips dancing between the black and white keys, and the beautiful music flowing as if the piano was part of him. Then he sang the lyrics: "We love each other so much..." Back then, Annette couldn’t pronounce the words well and could only hum the melody. Now, she knows the lyrics by heart, and this is the only song she is still willing to sing, but she doesn’t know who to sing it to.

As she was about to close the lid, she noticed a student standing beside the door. He cautiously walked to her side after they locked eyes, trying to start a conversation. She had encountered this kind of situation many times, but generally, she was not very interested. However today, this boy caught her attention.

It may be because she hasn't been sleeping well recently, making her a bit neurasthenic, but somehow, she felt this boy in front of her seemed to be close to that vague concept in her memory. She couldn't pinpoint where, as obviously, the build, stature, and hairstyle were different, even his hair color was completely different. The boy standing in front of her who introduced himself as Seth, was tall with slightly curly light brown hair and grey eyes, looking a bit shy.

"That piece is beautiful. I’ve never heard it before. What’s it called?" he asked.

"It doesn’t have a name. A friend of mine wrote it."

"Your friend is very talented," he paused. "May I sit next to you?"

Annette nodded, watching him sit down, trying to find out where the strange familiarity was coming from. Soon she realized it wasn't his appearance, but his voice.

"I've noticed you're often alone, and I thought I'd take the chance to come over and say hello. I hope that's okay. You're Annette, right?"

Seth carefully put down his trumpet case, pointing to the scar on his forehead, indicating the same position on hers.

"You know me?"

Annette tried to recall where she had met him before, but she couldn't find anything.

"My parents took me to your concert tour when I was little. It’s quite a coincidence us being at the same academy isn't it? Your singing was incredible."

Annette smiled, looking at his earnest eyes, not telling him that the voice he heard was actually her mother’s ghost’s curse.

“It’s a shame you disappeared from the public eye. If you had kept singing, I guess you’d be super famous by now. Why did you stop?”

“You didn't see the news back then, did you?”

“What news?”

“My dad ended up in jail for killing my mom.”

Annette said it in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she was used to explaining it to others, like stating the weather is sunny or rainy. Seth froze for a moment.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He seemed regretful for bringing it up. “I was too young at the time, and my family probably hid this kind of news from me…”

“It’s okay.”

Some kids were still protected by their parents at that age, while she had witnessed the death of two loved ones at the hands of another loved one.Life had such vast differences, Annette thought.

That night, she entered the dream again, and as always, he was there.

They were in the same house from her childhood. He sat down at the piano, playing the most beautiful melody she had ever heard, while she sat beside him, watching intently.

Wanting to see more clearly, she carefully clung to the edge of the piano, attempting to pull herself up onto the stool. As he played, deeply engrossed and unaware of her fingers beneath his, the key inevitably struck them when he pressed down.

The music stopped abruptly. He turned anxiously to check her fingers, kissing them gently as if that could take away the pain, though she felt no pain, only the softness of his lips.

“Do you want to play the piano too?” he asked, gently rubbing her fingers. She nodded.

He finally blew on her nails and lifted her onto his lap so she could reach the keys.

She placed her small hands on the keys, realizing they could span no more than four keys, even when spread as wide as possible. She tried pressing down, but her fingers were too weak to exert enough strength, and her knuckles collapsed, barely bent the keys. Then, a larger hand covered hers, pressing gently above her fingertips, producing a deep note that resonated like waves on the shore, washing over her heart.

She turned to him, his soft gaze meeting hers.

“Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

She saw the tenderness in his eyes, the gray-green color like a forest in morning fog, or a piece of warm jade.

"When you press the keys, don't let your knuckles collapse; it's easier for the fingertips to exert force. Come on, start with your thumb and try again."

His voice was so soft, as if afraid to startle a bird. She followed his guidance, pressing the key with her thumb, a small note ringing out; she then pressed again with more force.

"That's it."

His voice conveyed a smile, sounding genuinely proud of her, though she had only performed a basic action.

Increasing the difficulty slightly, perhaps to see how much Annette could manage, he placed his right hand on the keys and played a simple phrase of five or six notes. His fingers moved gracefully and lightly. Then, he gestured for her to try. It was an easy phrase to remember, with small intervals between notes, making it manageable even for her tiny little hands. The biggest challenge was pressing the keys firmly. She tried it as he had shown her, keeping her knuckles stable and exerting force with her fingertips. She played the phrase at a slightly slower pace, and it sounded quite good.

"Your talent is like your mom's," he said, his voice tinged with surprise, much like when he had first heard her sing. She turned to him with a proud smile, her heart swelling with a sense of achievement.

"Very good, Annette. Now, keep playing these notes and repeat them over and over."

She did as he said, repeating the small phrase continuously. On the third repetition, he placed his left hand in the lower register, gently pressing out pleasant chords, his wrist moving with a small, smooth motion. Her part remained the same, while he slightly changed a few chords, added a soft yet powerful accompaniment, combining a harmonious melody with her playing.

The sound of their duet filled the room, making Annette's heart pound in sync with the music's rhythm. This was the first time she felt a deep connection with the piano and an even deeper connection with him. She didn't want this moment to end, hoping it could last forever, but every piece of music eventually comes to an end.

He lifted his hands from the keys so gently, a motion that had become a habit through years of playing. He held her in his arms, kissed the top of her orange hair, his chin lightly resting on her soft locks, and spoke softly.

"You did so well, Annette. You'll soon surpass me."

She leaned back against his chest, a bit smug, enjoying the gentle embrace and the praise that felt like a spring breeze, wishing time would slow down. She knew he was just encouraging her, and that her playing wasn't good enough to deserve such praise. She doubted she could ever surpass his level, as he was the most talented pianist she had ever seen. It was just his unconditional love for her. But this moment's warmth felt like a sensation she hadn't experienced in ages.

---

tbc