#don’t worry we’re still gonna go feral in your absence

[easypeasylindyvesey]

the universe just really fucking hates us recently don’t they?

WTF is happening

[echo-of-sounds]

i’m not angry. i’m concerned

Small drabbles of Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, and Gang Orca taking care of you after you have a relapse of self-harm.

Warnings: self-hate, self-harm, punching a wall, hitting oneself with an object, bad bruising/swelling, (semi-graphic) cutting, blood

Aizawa Shouta

You knew it would only deform your hand more. And you still did it. Now you were left with bruised and swollen knuckles. Damage jarred your bones. Trauma twitched your muscles. And they just kept swelling. They were so big, pulling tendons, stretching skin uncomfortably, distressingly. Cries and hiccups slipped through your stifling.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway. You turned around. Shouta questioned your back, “What was that noise?”

“Drop- Dropped something.”

“It didn’t sound like it. It came from the wall. Did you throw something?”

“I-” Tears and twinges killed your reply. You gripped your wrists, trying to cut off the rocketing pain spasms. He’d criticize, blame you for your stupidity. He wouldn’t even have to speak to let you know the shame he held. One apathetic, antipathic look and his repugnance would be clear, ridiculing your caricature of a hormonal, huffy teenager.

Even your body was revolted by the action. Eight months of self-power- no knifed skin, no disfigurements- was snapped in one vulnerable second- a weak, weeping second that left you pitiful and hopeless and useless and worthless-

Warmth wrapped your back. You jerked from his embrace, crying for him to leave. His voice was as warm as his body, “I’m not going anywhere. You need me right now.” Hands supported your monstrous one while he wordlessly directed you to the living room then the couch.

He briefly left your side before coming back with ice, pills, and a drink. You readily accepted the painkillers. 

While you sipped the water, he closely examined your knuckles. He asked, extending one of his fingers, “Can you push down?” It hurt but you could. “Can you bend them?” It was rigid but you could. “Can you make a fist?” It was tight and inflamed but you could make half a fist. “You have motion, which is always a good sign. If the swelling doesn’t go down by morning, we’re going in for X-rays.”

His words were caring. Yet guilt burst. You sobbed and tried to stand, to get away from his judgment. But he caught your hips, moving them onto his lap, hushing your feeble protests. “It’s alright. Just stay with me.” The cloth-covered ice pack was lightly swathed around your hand.

“Sho, don’t be angry. I didn’t mean to…” you cried through the smothering tears.

“I know, honey. I know.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m never going to be angry with you for something like this. I’ll only ever be concerned. I promise. I love you.” Two more kisses came. You nuzzled into his neck, wanting his warmth to soothe the frayed and confused emotions. “I love you so much.”

Yagi Toshinori

A loud sob broke through your attempts to remain quiet. You smacked your hand over your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear. But your hopes were dashed almost immediately. The door creaked open. You kept your head down, clutching the damp towel to your water-coated skin.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you crying?” His calm voice trailed closer. A faint hum came as he noticed the issue. Delicate, cautious hands settled on either side of your lower thigh, cradling the bruised, swollen skin. He whispered your name, so earnestly, so soberly. It caused another sob to escape. “What did you hit yourself with?”

You shook your head, digging your nails into your hair at your juvenile, near infantile, action. The vague thoughts, the acute, uncontrollable anger, the snapshot self-harm wasn’t understandable no matter what the fucking DBT book said. And now your eight-month progress was rendered pathetically pointless.

One hand found your arm, caressing, seeking any response. He breathed your name. “Did something happen?” At more silence, he dropped to his knees, begging, “Sweetheart, please, talk to me. I’m not angry. I’m concerned about you and your safety. What did you use?”

You weakly pointed to the discarded brush. The handle broke off from the rest at your final, hardest hit.

“Did you do anything else to yourself?”

“No,” you choked.

“Okay, okay…” he muttered. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. Let’s try.” Your grip on his outstretched hands was horribly frail, unable to haul your weight. He helped, easily pulling in your absence. The towel fell and left you naked but you couldn’t care.

Your first step ended with you against his chest. The swelling spread to your knee, stiffing, tensing the joint. “I’m sorry,” you wept into his shirt. “I’m so sorry. I don’t- I don’t know why…”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He kissed your head. Bearing your weight for you, he slowly guided you to the bed. A pair of underwear was guided up your legs then he laid you down comfortably. He kissed your head again, mumbling, “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

You nodded and nearly nodded off when your leg was lifted and a pillow was placed under it. Cold covered your knee next followed by a blanket. You welcomed the water and pain relievers.

After multiple gulps, you tried to explain but your breath caught, “Toshi, I didn’t- I think- I- I-”

“Shhh. It’s alright. It’s alright.” He slid under the blanket, curling up beside you, affectionately rubbing your stomach. His endearing voice softened into your ear, “You don’t need to talk right now. All you need to do is relax. Can you take some deep breaths?” He counted for you. And again for your next one.

“I love you.” Lips brushed the side of your face repeatedly. You leaned into them, letting his arms wrap around you. “I love you so much, sweetheart. You’re going to get through this, I promise.”

Yamada Hizashi

A couple of knocks startled you. Hizashi called your name. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

You didn’t hear his usual rambunctious proclamation of coming home. If you didn’t answer, he would obviously know something was wrong. “I’m fine,” you croaked. Your voice shouted that you weren’t, in fact, fine.

The door opened and you cursed yourself for not locking it. “Oh, baby…”

It was deplorable. You mashed your palms into your eyes, not wanting to face his anger, his horror, his utter disgust. Your defenseless, nude body, blood-soaked paper towels, smeared red thigh and hands, and the razor that did the defiling laid out helplessly, staining the floor.

Eight months went down the drain in just a few minutes. You couldn’t recall why or what you were thinking. It was all moronic, whatever it was. Now you only felt pain. An itching, pulling pain that was accompanied by gruesome liquid and coagulated blood.

He called your name, trying to reach you. But you didn’t want to reach back. He’d reprimand you for dirtying the floor. He’d criticize you for failing. He’d be sickened at your cuts. It was gross. You were-

“Please talk to me.”

The tears you thought you stopped sprung out loud and pathetically. You apologized, again and again, hoping he didn’t hate you and your beastly body.

A hand took your shoulder. You were moved as you continued repeating remorses. A cool cloth tried to gently clean your imbrued leg. Raw skin ignited. Slashes stretched. You gripped his wrist, shaking your head for him to stop. It was all too ugly. And you didn’t want him to see it, touch it.

“I need to clean some of the blood to see the cuts better. I need to see if you need medical attention.”

You collapsed and wailed into his chest, “I’m so sorry. Please, please, don’t be angry. Please. I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m sorry, Hizashi. Don’t be angry. Please-”

“Shhh, baby girl. I’m not angry. I’m not even close to being angry. I’m just worried about you.” He mourned your name, kissing your temple. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise you that.” 

The cloth went on in a light motion. It eventually settled against the wounds, pressing with pressure to stop the rest of the bleeding. 

You continued crying into him. A few of the tears weeping onto your shirt weren’t yours. Lips graze your forehead, whispering, cherishing, “I love you so much.”

Gang Orca

The slits spilled over, painted your palm and wrist red. It happened too fast. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t stop your hand from gripping the blade and opening your skin.

Anger and fear didn’t control your movement. There wasn’t any sadness or anxiety harassing your mind. For so long, everything’s just been insignificant and now that blood slurred your skin, everything was still nothing. Injuries and confusion don’t count. Shame was a given. Pain was another but none of it was whatever you wanted.

There were no paper towels or tissues near. Your legs wouldn’t move. You could only stare at the detached emotions leaking from your hand. But seeing the layers of skin separate more and more grated pain into panic. Your voice broke as you shrieked, “Ku-GO!”

Heavy footsteps rushed into the bedroom. Your name waned softly from his mouth. You couldn’t look at him. You didn’t want his revulsion. Or his annoyance at your inane, weak-minded behavior. You were supposed to be clean of it. Though it always found you, no matter how many months you thought you outran it. 

He whispered, “I’m right here. It’ll be okay.”

“It hurts,” you gasped, tears now blurred everything. His warmth seated beside you. Your hand was carefully lifted and a cloth wrapped tightly around the wounds.

“I know it does. It’s scary, isn’t it?”

You nodded, desperately trying to calm yourself.

“It’s going to be alright. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he helped compose your breathing. A hand barely stroked your back when you shrunk away from his touch, his irritation, his condemning of your feral actions.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t- I don’t- I don’t know why. I fucked up… I fucked up… I'm sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m not angry with you. But I am incredibly concerned and worried. Right now, these need to be cleaned. Will you let me pick you up?”

You nodded again. Kugo easily lifted you, stopping to grab the medical kit before taking you to his comfy armchair. You curled up in his lap and rested against his chest while he thoroughly dressed the injuries. Despite his bulky fingers, he was as gentle and graceful as can be. Quiet praises came in between each bandage.

They brought more tears. Turning into his shirt, you cried out your grief. He hugged you close and caressed your arm. “Everything's okay. You’re okay, my love.” He held your hand to his mouth. “I love you more than anything else. You're going to get through this. And I'm going to be right here the entire time.” 

[mizuritamanami]

What Goes Unseen

Linked Universe Time Warriors and Legend angst to sort of fluff?

They all have secrets. That much is a given, and sort of hard to miss, given the way Four clams up when asked about his moods, how often Wild has to just... stop and leave and come back to himself when they pass ruins sometimes, or the way Twilight vanishes without a trace to go off doing Hylia only knew what. 

And that wasn't even touching on the walking enigmas Time and Legend could be, so sure. They all have their secrets. Even bubbly Wind and soft spoken Sky. Secrets, secrets everywhere, in plain view or otherwise. 

But something about Wild’s Hyrule has been eating away at Warriors for weeks. Enough that Legend has even noticed his change in mood, his disinterest in most of the things he normally jumped at. 

Enough that the veteran adventurer surprises him by pulling him aside to talk in the guise of a patrol, enough that he wears Warriors down with enough pointless questions that the knight just explodes to ask him what the hell it is he wants.

"Somethings been on your mind for almost a month. You're starting to scare the old man," Legend says bluntly, "I didn't think you could top that "launch tree into bokoblin camp and rain fire from above" heart attack you gave him, but here we are. What gives?" 

For a moment, Warriors just stares at him, because firstly, how dare he insinuate that that plan hadn't worked perfectly outside of the landing, and secondly, since when did you pay that much attention to me?

He huffs. 

"I'm fine."

"Uh. No." 

Worth a try, anyway, Warriors thinks, turning away from the scrutinizing eyes of the young man across from him. 

Legend notes the way his fingers dig into the blue cloth around his neck, and sighs, gesturing to a fallen log. 

"Sit," he says, "tell me whats bothering you. If its got you like this, it warrants a serious talk, without pretense."

"Didn't know you knew such fancy words."

"Don't make me take it back and kick you in the shins."

Warriors has to laugh at that at least a little, so he sits, as instructed, and watches Legend plop unceremoniously into the mix of leaflitter, pine nettles, and flower petals on the forest floor. 

He's still fidgeting with the scarf, and the words come slowly at first, then frantic and almost angry. 

"My mother used to tell me, you know.... that there are stories, in the absences. In what we don't see. And- the more I look around, the more I see you- all of you- in Wild's Hyrule. Goddess, you're all everywhere.... but-.... out of the nine of us, there are only eight call backs. Even Wild's got his own legends already. So I can't help but wonder--..."

"Where you are."

"Where I went! What happened? Did- did I fail, somehow? Did I do something wrong? There's nothing left that says I ever even existed!"

"You existed to us. To Wild, to me, and Time, and Twi and the others. Between all of us, there's no denying that you were here."

Legend realizes belatedly that he's only just barely fended off a fit of sobs from the knight, and counts himself lucky and also gives himself a brownie point or three for the save, just before he recognizes the familiar thwacking and tramping of bronze armor against offending tree branches and leather boots on forest floor somewhere behind him.

He feels the heat come through his voice before he can stop the words from coming out of his mouth. 

"Besides, you didn't completely fuck a timeline, then leave another to Ganon for seven whole years, now did you? Too busy cleaning up other people's messes."

Time froze as his foot settled on the line of the clearing they were in, and the pregnant silence in the moment it took him to school his voice into something normal made Warrior's skin crawl it was so uncomfortable. 

"..... T-There you boys are.... Twilight was--.... he was getting worried. I'll tell him you just .... stopped for a break."

He turned on his heel in a perfect about face that made Warriors knight-side a little jealous, but the rest of him looked to Legend, who was avoiding the direction Time had gone entirely. Realization dawned a moment after.

"......... that was cruel, Legend..... I didn't want you to make me feel better if you were just going to tear him down. Or tell his secrets."

"...... if I'm honest Wars? That last jab was more for my sake than yours."

"What?"

"Whose timeline do you think his failure ruined?"

The sharp intake of breath on Warriors part told Legend he'd picked up on all the appropriate cues. 

".... that's one of my secrets, for spilling his to you, I guess. I don't know if I'm ever gonna be able to forgive him. But hey, since when has Hylia ever cared what we thought? Probably hasn't since Sky...... the point is, you aren't a failure for having to pick up after everyone else, and then not getting thanked for it. You're like that with all of us, too. Constantly doing things hoping someone will at the least notice. I noticed. All of us have. You're a goddamn hero, same as the rest of us, and the only reason your scarf isn't locked up in a chest out here somewhere is probably because you wouldn't part with that thing if it cost you your freaking soul or something. Duh."

Its quiet for a moment, and Warriors takes the time to look down at the blue around his neck a moment before smiling.  

"..... you should apologize to Old Father Time.... but you're right.  I guess its still all in the things you don't see at first glance- I never would have thought you a confidant. You might find out some interesting things about him if you sat like you did with me."

"Id rather eat one of Wild's disgusting potions made out of butterflies and lizalfos."

"Don't jinx yourself, Vet." 

"Shut up."

~~~~~

Legend was going to murder Warriors.

Don't jinx yourself my ass, you set this up, you sorry-- he cut his own thoughts off to hiss under his breath.

Not only was Legend laid up with Time looking out for him as first watch, but he'd had to drain four of those nasty freaking potions. 

"I hate. Lightning. So much."

Normally, that would have earned him a chuckle, or at least a sympathetic hum.

But Time just turned his head towards a darker section of the underbrush that Legend knew for sure he absolutely could not see anything in. 

Was it the being ignored or the uncertainty and hurt in Time's expression that made his stomach twist? 

"I said--" 

"I heard you, Legend. I'm sorry, I didn't think you wanted to speak to me." 

"...... oh..." 

The simple acceptance of Legend's earlier ire pulled all of the heat right out from under him, and he deflated some into his bedroll. 

"........ I am sorry.... I know it doesn't mean much to you, but... I am. Even the sword didn't think I was good enough, and judging by your reaction, it was probably right."

Legend winced. 

"What kind of bullshit cop-out is that? The sword doesn't make you a damn hero, it just points and grabs like a stupid claw game."

"Success, does, then. And that is a baton I clearly didn't pass to you, that I missed out on passing down peace..... it eats at me, some nights when I can't sleep, that I still managed to grasp at straws and hold so tight to so much good that I got to keep it. And I doomed you. I have everything and you were left wanting." 

Legend stared at his back, the way he bent around the biggoron sword leaning into his right shoulder to be drawn if need be by his left hand. 

"Im afraid I'm going to lose it all one day because I failed you so badly."

"I'm not that pitiful."

"Legend-"

"Look, I'm fine--"

"What was her name, Legend?" 

The air left Legends lungs in a sudden, sharp breath. 

"..... That's what I thought..."

"...... you were ten, if that..... yes, it sucks, and time travel is a pain, but you were fucking ten. Hylia sent a ten year old, let his tree mentor die right in front of him, and then continued to traumatize- REPEATEDLY traumatize- a child. Yes, I'm angry. Bitter and jaded, even. But don't you dare get so self important that you start thinking the blame fits on your shoulders. You're an old fucking man, not a god."

"Interesting choice of words...."

"No. No, because you're just gonna start unloading more trauma. If this is about that creepy mask, then no. That doesn't count either!"

"You're awfully concerned about this particular issue.... alright, I'll let it drop--"

"No, you ten year old little brat in a mentally fifty year olds achy jointed body, you're gonna go the fuck to sleep and stop moping. Its my turn to take watch and I'll be damned if I have to sit up watching you get all weepy into your pillow and trying to snitch Wild's slate to call your wife at two in the goddamn morning. Go to bed!"

Time stared at him in surprise, (the ten year old in him in question seriously debating biting the finger wagging in front of his nose) before Legends phrasing hit him. 

"Oh, I’m going to absolutely kill Warriors for telling you about how I was when we met."

"Brat! Bed! Bounce to it, bunny hat kid!"

"You are the last person--"

"Bed!"

"Alright! Alright! Fine! You're lucky I don't fit those masks anymore," Time muttered, picking himself up off the stump to go peel off his armor and crawl into his bedroll. He was silent as Legend pulled himself into the space he'd emptied, then sighed and smiled. 

"..... thank you, Vet." 

"Yeah yeah yeah. Go to sleep before you wake up Twilight. He has ears like a fucking wolfhou---....... oh my goddess you're kidding me."

"Shhh."

"Goddess I hate you sometimes." 

Warriors, apparently woken by the hissing through Legends teeth, chuckled to himself. 

Its all in the things you don't see, I guess, he thinks.

Secrets secrets, everywhere, but.... together, we're all still here for each other. I can live with that. 

"Good night bratty bunny and feral bunny."

Two furious choruses of "HEY!" were the perfect lullaby for Warriors to drop right back off to sleep. 

Yeah...

He could definitely live with that.

[haus-of-wu]

The Evolution of “It’s You”

To be honest, I’m pretty sure “It’s You” was the first SJ song I went absolutely feral on, because the beat is so damn catchy, and best of all, it’s a SAD BOP!

If you’ve ever wanted a sad dance track with emotional vibes about how even after a breakup, the one in their heart will always be you (we appreciate a gender neutral love song), then this is the one.

“It’s You” holds a special place for being the last MV that all thirteen members are involved in. It also is the song that SJ was promoting while Kibum was taking a step back from singing (Kibum doesn’t have lines and is missing from promo activities because he was already pivoting to acting at this point in time) and Han Geng was filing his lawsuit. Super turbulent times in 2009.

I was going through all the different live performances of “It’s You” for nostalgia’s sake during these social distancing hours, and I was kinda punched in the gut at how much this song means to me as an ELF. I literally took an eight-year break from following anything k-pop related, yet somehow I ended back here, with Super Junior, as a full-ass adult. I’ve grown to love all the other parts of SMTown and a bunch of other groups and artists, but SJ will always be the one for me, no matter what (okay if anyone pulls something like seungri did they’re dead to me).

"It’s You” really highlights not only SJ’s versatility, but also their growth. Super Junior’s gone through so many line-up changes over the years, and no matter what version of the line distribution and choreo they perform, “It’s You” just continues to develop like fine wine. (How is this song ELEVEN YEARS OLD)

Come through under the cut for the masterlist of performance videos, what stood out to me about each of them, and to experience the evolution yourself! :)

ALSO - please send me song requests for more “Evolution of ___” type posts bc it’s just so much fun to see how performances change and age

SBS Inkigayo (May 17th, 2009)

The first performance of “It’s You”. Ever.

Donghae’s opening vocals were sooo iffy (especially if Ryeowook or Kyuhyun were juxtaposed in the verse right after) back in the day, it’s wild - but also have the time you gotta ask whether he was sick at the time or not smh

ELF are already serving the fan chant sing-along when the song had barely been out for a week - iconic, given the fact that you literally had to buy or pirate in 2009 bc streaming wasn’t a thing

What is Leeteuk’s ponytail

I miss the simplicity of 2nd gen choreo - like the whole vibe of this was “we’re going to move to the beat and make it very obvious via formation who is singing a verse/chorus (giant hint, it’s the center)”

Dance line’s (read: Eunhyuk and Shindong’s) chest pops hitting everyone in the feels - oh wait WTF this camera completely cuts off Eunhyuk and Shindong’s chest pop duet

2009 Eunhyuk and Shindong, don’t worry, your suave vocals will come soon, just give it a few more years

Yesung’s ad-lib solos during the last chorus were done standing up and off to the side - just wait for the the drama to escalate in later performances folks

 Music Core (May 30, 2009)

(I’m maxing out on the number of embedded videos so click the header for the link)

Not much different from the one above, just better camera angles and resolution, and the first(?) time Yesung does his ad-lib solos while kneeling on the floor, bc you gotta add some d r a m a

Music Core (June 6, 2009)

(Once again, click above for the link)

Don’t really know whether this one or the performance right below came first

But Han Geng is MIA bc of...Reasons™, so Siwon takes over his opening ad-libs

Yesung’s face has a blankness to it during his verse, which is just so sad; usually he has an aura of confidence but it was completely not there during this at all (literally just compare directly to the performance above and it’s SO different)

Leeteuk’s awkwardly like smiling during his verse? (It comes off like he’s trying too hard to make it look like things are fine) But it’s not his usual camera expression so you just know something is wrong

Ironically this is probably the stablest Eunhyuk’s vocals have been during 2009 for his line

It’s really obvious that Yesung is struggling to keep it together emotionally for this performance like good god, he’s really been blank-slating a lot of this performance

And then Heechul has to come in looking depressed as fuck (which is hella valid) for his solo and nails it (while looking like his cat died - long live han j(ae) heebum)

Siwon and Yesung bump into each other as they get into the ending pose

God I really could say more about how each member performs as they cope with this but I’ll refrain

Music Core (Sometime later, 2009)

(Once again, click above for the link)

Hella sad times because Hangeng is notably missing right from the get-go again, with Yesung taking his opening ad-libs

Also Kangin is missing but I cannot remember why - kudos to Sungmin for covering (but idk why he was trying so hard to sound raspier like Kangin bc that did not work for him)

Imagine having to rearrange all the formations and reassign parts to promote on a regular music show because you’re missing two whole members

Correction, THREE whole members because Heechul was so emotionally fucked up from Hangeng leaving

Kudos to Leeteuk for being that Bitch and delivering on Heechul’s solo

Like, this was the peak of 2009 turmoil for SJ

At least Yesung had some (angry) spark in him for this performance bc I would not be able to handle another sad/blank performance from him (that shit hurted ok)

This whole performance has a simultaneous sense of muted solemnity and (angry/petulant) fighting spirit to it bc they’re all trying real hard to compartmentalize the shit that’s happening outside of this stage

I think the phrase is more like “y’all think this shit is going to break us, but it’s not” which once again goes along with the whole “SJ is a bunch of veterans that will keep going on even if the road is barren/till the end of the line” concept that they’ve painted for themselves

Super Show 5 - Seoul (2013, no 83line)

The Super Show DVDs give such superior sound quality (infinitely better when listened to with headphones). You can really hear the distinct timbre among all their voices.

eunhyuk what are those glasses/shindong what is that hair

congrats to dance/rap line on their vocal growth !!

Leeteuk and Heechul were off in the military during SS5, which means that Ryeowook and Kyuhyun got to take over Heechul’s mid-song solo. (I honestly don’t think I would have survived had Ryeowook done the ending of that part, because he has the type of voice that pierces through your heart)

yesung going feral during his solo on the platform is everything tbh

Super Show 5 - Osaka (2013, no Yesung)

It’s the same tour, so most aspects of the performance are the same. Yesung’s absence (due to mandatory service) led to some interesting change-ups, namely:

Sungmin taking his first verse with his fresh clear vocals

Heechul pulling a Heechul, appearing on the platform and then promptly disappearing - king of GHOSTING

Ryeowook being in charge of the SCREAM solo. KRY have completely different timbres, and Ryeowook’s take on this solo gives a very different feel.

Yesung’s known for having the more soulful voice, whereas Ryeowook executes in a clearer manner that comes off as more technical/didactic way

KRY comeback next month guys it’s COMING

Super Show 7 - Seoul (2017)

(You’re gonna have to jump to 3:30 bc this is a 2-in-1 vid)

SS7 brought this hit back in a completely new way.

The blindfolds, guys... p l e a s e.

The original choreo relied a lot on the number of members. Even though the choreography has completely changed, and there’s only half the number of members, the song still hits.

Once again, not shutting up about how much Eunhyuk’s vocals have improved. Like...he really was out here during the 8th album/SS7 and taking over main vocal lines. He’s developed so much control over his voice, and the result we hear is a honey-sweet smooth timbre.

Chest pop dance break reinvented but still referencing the dance line duet

You barely notice when Siwon covers Kangin’s lines and Leeteuk covers Sungmin’s during the second verse, bc this time around they actually picked members with similar timbres (i am still ?? at why sungmin tried to emulate kangin’s voice to the point where it messed up his own verse during that 2009 performance)

Shindong leading a chorus, did 2009 us ever see this coming

The fact that Yesung finally does his kneeling scream solo smack in center sends

[bellarnyblakc]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar Characters: Jude Duarte, Cardan Greenbriar, Taryn Duarte, Locke (The Folk of the Air), The Bomb (The Folk of the Air), The Roach (The Folk of the Air) Additional Tags: Eventual Smut, This Whole Thing is due to One Scene I Wanted to Write, Don't Examine This Too Closely, the plot is background noise to set up a few specific scenes so just allow it fam, wish fulfillment bc who knows if QoN is gonna be kind to these dumb kids, no editing we die like men Summary:

“What happens now, then?” His voice was weary and thin.

“Why did you summon me? After all this time, why now?” she demanded.

“I need your help.”

“Yes, you said that in your damn letter. Maybe you shouldn't have sent me away in the first place! What’s going on?” she snapped.

-------------------------------------

It had taken her far longer than she liked to admit to figure out the trick woven into her banishment.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so blinded by fury and betrayal and the all-encompassing feeling of heartbreak, she would have remembered that the Fae should never be taken at face value. That, though they cannot lie, every word of theirs is a trick wrapped in a deception posing as the truth.

There was an unfamiliar ache in her chest that never let her forget how her walls had unknowingly been broken down bit by bit until only rubble lay in its place.

Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she could not stand the sight of the girl she had become. The girl who let feelings override her better judgement, who let herself be fooled into thinking that the boy who had only ever sworn his revenge and her destruction would deign to offer her wildest dreams on a silver platter. The teary-eyed fool who, despite her burning anger and hatred, in her weakest moments in the dead of night still missed his arms and lips and soft caresses and the way his eyes softened just for her.

So, yes. Maybe if she hadn’t been wallowing in her hurt feelings and bruised heart, she would have figured out the loophole sooner.

She had tested her theory, months ago, gingerly stepping one foot and then another over the border into Faerie. Nothing had happened, except a bird fleeing from a tree, squawking madly, startling her more than it should have.

She had breathed in the air, suddenly completely free of pollution and grime as if there was an invisible barrier between this world and the real one; like the junction of the river meeting the sea. It astonished her that it had actually worked, she knew Cardan wouldn’t have been so careless in his phrasing so he must have had an ulterior motive for allowing her return.

It troubled her that she couldn’t figure out why. That, in her absence, Cardan had learnt to weave schemes of his own and play the intricate game of politics so well that she no longer had the capacity to outmanoeuvre him.

She refused to let herself play into his hands so easily without a strategy of her own, so she didn’t linger, returning to Vivi’s house. Her planning should have started immediately, but instead when she got back in, she sat against the door of her unlit room feeling numb and hollow, relishing the dig of the doorframe into her spine. It hurt worse than being banished to know that she had lost something so fundamental to her existence; something she had prided herself on for years; something she relied upon to keep herself alive. After months of fast food and daytime TV and her mind-numbing part time job at the café, she had lost her ability to manipulate, scheme and strategise. The art of intrigue and conspiracy was beyond her reach now. The hours and hours of letting out her anger on a punching bag the gym only served to keep her body in shape, not her conniving mind as sharp as it once was.

It was moments like these, where she felt aged beyond her seventeen years where she missed the girl she could have been had she stayed in the mortal realm. The girl for whom a boy and a broken heart would have been the most important, tragic events in her life.

Tomorrow, she told herself sliding down with a sigh so that she was lying on the floor, lacking the effort to drag herself to her small, lumpy single bed who's sheets were well past needing to be changed. I’ll plan tomorrow, repeating it every day until before she knew it, weeks had passed in a haze of self-pity.

--

“Jude?” Viv’s voice filtered through the door, eliciting a muffled groan from where Jude’s head was burrowed into her pillow where she had flung herself after a gruelling eleven-hour shift. “You have a, um-“ Viv paused “a letter.”

Jude sat up curiously. She had never received a letter in her life. Not even boring bank statements or bills, since her dodgy boss paid her cash-in-hand. (She was becoming more and more convinced that the café was a drug front or a money laundering scheme.)

Her door opened and Viv frisbeed the letter over to her. The creamy paper was thick and rough, sealed with green wax. The loopy, spidery handwriting on the front was all too familiar to her, and she had the urge to destroy the letter, tear it up and eat it before bothering to read it. Almost unwillingly, she dug a finger under the seal so she could unfold the letter.

Darling,

Come back. I need you.

Expect an escort at midnight by the pier.

Yours, C.

She let out an incredulous huff.  A hurricane of unidentifiable feelings flared. How dare he command her, without so much as a 'please'? After he had banished her without a second thought, he now expected her to run back to his heel when it was convenient? She thought of that last, private smile he sent her after he proclaimed the punishment. The smile of someone for whom all the pieces were falling into place.

She scratched a fingernail over the first word, glaring as if he would feel it through the paper. The incorrigible cheek of him to address her that way after he had denied her in front of his whole court.

The bed dipped as Vivienne sat down, shoving Jude's legs into the peeling wall to make space as she did so

“Well?” she demanded, blunt as ever.

“He wants me to come back.” Vivienne snatched the letter out of her hands and scanned it in disbelief.

“Well,” she repeated, this time at a loss for words. There was a silence, and Jude idly played with the tassel of a decorative pillow. “What are you going to do? Does this mean he’s pardoned you?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s pardoned me or not, I’ve already pardoned myself.” Viv eyed her sceptically. “I am the crown, right? We’re married.” She dug a nail into her palm, regretting every decision she had made that night. “Until the crown has passed from our hands.” she quoted.

“And you figured this out when?” the indignation of not being informed of her discovery sooner was evident on Vivienne’s face. She whacked Jude’s arm, and then again for good measure. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Ow!” Jude scooted away and glared. “It was a few weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter! I’m not going back on his terms.”

“But, something's wrong in Elfhame,” Vivi's voice was low and uncertain, like she was tending to a wounded feral animal who would startle at the slightest noise.

“What? How do you know?” Jude grabbed the letter back and turned it over, as if there was writing on the back that she had missed. Vivienne snorted.

“It’s obvious. As if Cardan would ever call someone ‘darling’. He didn't want to address you by name and he didn't sign off with his. He’s being as vague and secretive as possible. He’s worried it will be intercepted.” Jude’s mouth twisted into a sneer, even as she felt a stab of disappointment that his endearment wasn’t sincere, regardless of how patronising it was.

“Good. I hope something is so wrong he doesn’t have time to sleep or eat.”

“So you’re not going to help?”

“If he wanted my help, he shouldn’t have sent me away!” her voice was petulant, like Oak’s when he wanted dessert before dinner.

“What if he gets hurt, or killed? Could you live with yourself knowing you hadn't even tried to help?” The patient tone of Vivienne's voice vexed her. She didn't like being talked down to.

“Yes. In fact, I’d throw a party if it happens.” Her voice was peevish, but they both knew it wasn’t the truth. “Leave me alone, Viv.” She burrowed into the pile of pillows once more, head spinning.

She hated Cardan. If he died it would be the least he deserved. She would just regret that she wouldn't be there to see it. Even as he forced herself to think this, she knew deep down that she would be unable to ignore it. She had to just see what was happening. She was going to go back. She just needed to know. Jude had never been one for keeping herself in the dark.

But she would never give Cardan the satisfaction of following his orders. If she was going back, it wouldn’t be the way he wanted her to. When the escort arrived at midnight, they would be waiting for her for a very long time.

She left hours later, after stuffing a bag full of everything in sight that could potentially be of any use.

“How are you going back if you’re not using a horse?” Asked Oak in confusion when she explained that she wasn’t going to wait for her ride as she strapped a holster to her thigh.

“I’m walking.” Her voice was grim. She sheathed a newly sharpened knife. Viv raised one fluffy eyebrow.

“Have fun,” she said archly. Jude nodded and stepped out the door. “And Jude!” she turned back to face Vivienne, “Take care of yourself, won’t you.” Jude sent her a small smile and waved at Oak, who blew a kiss and turned back to his homework, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation.

She set off, feeling the heavy outline of the letter in the breast pocket of her jacket.

A summons! She had been summoned and she was doing as she was told, like a loyal puppy. She hated Cardan for putting her in this situation in the first place.

It took her the evening and the better part of the night to arrive. Her anger and indignation fuelled her until the palace came into view and she was suddenly plagued with doubts. Coming back to Faerie was what Cardan wanted. Frustration welled up inside her as, for the first time in years, not only was she several moves behind, but she wasn’t even sure what game they were playing. The last thing she wanted to do was play into his hands. She had come running back without the barest hint of a plan.

That was how she found herself back in her old quarters having snuck into the palace through an old hidden passage, rifling through her old things for inspiration. Her room wasn’t dusty and untouched like she had been expecting. Instead, the sheets were rumpled and slept in; clothes that looked distinctly like Cardan’s lay strewn over the desk and a little pot of glittering silver paint lay open on the dresser.

“You’re rusty,” came a soft, amused voice from behind her. Immediately, she unsheathed her knife from her thigh and whipped round, digging the blade into the figure’s exposed throat. A flare of irritation surged as she couldn't deny the truth of his words. He had been able to sneak up on her without her being any the wiser.

Cardan smiled in the milky blue dawn light, seemingly unsurprised at the blade to his throat. He looked overtired and drained, the smudged gold around his eyes doing little to conceal the purple beneath his eyes. Despite his exhaustion, Jude couldn't deny that he still looked good. She hated it. She hated that he could still have this effect on her.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here.” She growled.

“Now where would be the fun in that?”

“You banished me from my home. You tricked me and sent me away like I was nothing but another piece in your games. And then you commanded I return.” She dug the knife in deeper, a sharp stab of malicious delight at the sight of blood. She wanted to dig the knife in deeper until she severed his artery and watch him bleed out on the floor. She wanted to drop the knife and pin him to the wall and lick the droplets of blood from his neck.

His smile became brittle at the edges. “I didn’t have a choice. There wasn’t any other way.” His hand reached out tentatively, fingers winding around her wrist so he could feel the angry beat of her pulse, lowering the blade slowly. “You killed my brother. If I had shown weakness, if I had allowed that offence to slide, the court would have turned against me. I couldn’t let my…” he trailed off and swallowed thickly, “personal feelings get in the way.” There was a brief pause, “Jude,” he breathed. “You know it was the only choice, you’re better at politics, a smarter strategist than me.”

The compliment only served to incense her. “Don’t condescend to me, Cardan,” she snapped. “You’re not telling the whole truth, are you? Of all the penalties you could have come up with, the only choice was to send me away?” she scoffed. “You wanted to punish me, didn’t you?”

He’d lowered her hand so the tip of the knife was hovering dangerously close to his liver. She pressed it into the soft velvet of his doublet. He shivered involuntarily, pupils blown wide.

“I should gut you right here. I just want the truth. Why send me away? Why leave me the opportunity to come back? Why send for me all of a sudden?” She stepped closer to him, so their bodies were flush. She could feel the heat of him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed faster than normal, whether due to arousal or fear, she could not tell.

His hand wrapped around her waist, to push her away, or pull her closer, he wasn’t sure. “Fine,” he confessed in a whisper, “Yes, I was angry and I wanted to hurt you, but it wasn't... You killed my brother and you kept it from me, Jude-“

“He was terrible to you!”

“And you would be completely free of remorse were something to happen to Madoc?” he asked smoothly. “He was my tormentor, but he was also my brother.”

She hesitated, examining the burning embers of hatred towards her step-father. And yet, she had loved him in a fashion, craved his admiration and respect, even after watching him murder her parents. She knew enough about complicated family relationships to see where Cardan’s pain had come from.

She deflated, grip loosening on the knife so it clattered to the ground, suddenly more unsure of herself than she had been for a long time. Her head hurt. She was tired of these games, of second guessing herself and everyone around her, of having to be on her guard at all times, even around Cardan. Especially around Cardan. He slowly sank to his knees and picked the blade up, then looked at her with his dark eyes.

“But that’s still not the whole truth,” he admitted softly. A hand cupped the back of her knee, rubbing softly. “I wanted to keep you safe. I'd rather you be angry than dead. You were already so weak after Orlagh took you and it was so dangerous here-“

Jude’s heart hardened once again. “However did you get the impression that I needed, or wanted your protection?” she spat. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. God knows I’ve had more than enough practice after being tormented by you for my whole life.” Her words were a perfectly aimed arrow, and they landed precisely where she intended for them to cause the most hurt.

He stilled, and dropped his gaze. There was nothing he could say to that, they both knew.

Jude stepped away and surveyed the clearly inhabited room once more.

“Who’s your new Seneschal?” she asked .

“What makes you think I have one?” he rose and took several steps until he was leaning against the carved wooden bedpost.

“Who’s using my rooms then?” she said archly. Cardan darted his eyes to the pot of paint and shrugged. They stood in awkward silence for several moments.

“My rider returned empty hours ago. Did you walk? All the way from the mortal realm?" When she replied with nothing but a stony glare, his lips curved into a half-smile. "Why do you always insist on making things so difficult, you impossible girl."

"You don't get to act like I'm being melodramatic for refusing to take orders from you!" she shoved him in the chest unexpectedly and he tumbled onto the bed with a whoosh of air. He merely smiled indulgently and stretched out on the bed, cat-like, making himself comfortable. She sneered at him in disgust, frustrated that he appeared so collected and calm. She wanted to unhinge him, unravel him. Idly, she wondered how fast she could make him lose control if she pinned him down and kissed him. Or if she took her blade to his chest.

Why did you take so long to come back?” he asked tentatively, oblivious to her violent, lustful thoughts. “I know you figured it out weeks ago.” She scowled at him.

“You’ve had spies on me?” she asked indignantly.

“No, I felt you. In my kingdom.”

“Maybe I decided that I’m happier in the mortal world. Maybe I have a life now and I don’t care about-“ she stopped short as she realised she was going to say ‘you’. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reaffirming those feelings, especially since she was now so unsure of them herself, “this place anymore.” She improvised.

“What happens now, then?” His voice was weary and thin.

“Why did you summon me? After all this time, why now?” she demanded.

“I need your help.”

“Yes, you said that in your damn letter. Maybe you shouldn't have sent me away in the first place! What’s going on?” she snapped. He rose to his elbows, expression serious and worn.

“Madoc’s made his move, and now I’m going to make mine. We’ve been laying low and waiting him out, but I’ve had spies on Taryn since the beginning. We can take him down from the inside, but only if you play along. Jude, you’re my secret weapon.”

[glittergummicandypeach]

Rejecting parents’ religion: parenting advice from Care and Feeding.

Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here or post it in the Slate Parenting Facebook group.

Dear Care and Feeding,

All my life I have raised my child Christian, and now as she moves on to college and has a boyfriend, I’ve got it out of her that they are atheists. It devastates me, but I also know it is up to her to get her salvation.

The above statements are what I know my parents feel. I am the atheist child.

What do I do to help my parents feel less crushed? I know they only want me to accept God again, but I just don’t believe. I understand their faith, I just don’t want them to continue to feel hurt by seeing me.

As I move on to hopefully marry someone who agrees with me on my views, I feel they will continue to be devastated. And, will cry tears of agony instead of joy if they attend my wedding.

I know my views could change, but I seriously just want to hear what I can do to lower their agony.

—Child Turned Away

Dear CTA,

You are a kind and gentle person. I’m actually very touched by the concern you express for your parents’ feelings. It indicates they are not being total D-bags to you about the situation, which is great, but also complicated: When parents are being total D-bags about your loss of faith (which may not be a loss for you), it’s a lot easier to tell them to pound sand and move on with your life. When parents just seem fragile and sad about it, a lot of protectiveness and misplaced guilt can kick in. Fragility and sadness can also be very effective tools of control. Don’t feel like you have to apologize, equivocate, or take on the burden of their sadness.

You’re no longer a child. You’re their child, but none of us get any guarantees about our children, I can assure you. I’m a generic Protestant who is pretty into it without being an evangelical, so my lovely and mega-progressive shit-stirring Catholic mom is only mildly disappointed I’m on the JV squad of God and not playing varsity, and my lovely atheist dad is mostly bemused, as he really did lay out a great case for Only the Sweet Release of the Cosmic Void Awaits Us All (frequently a very comforting thought in its own right). They’re fine. I have no idea if my children will turn out to want or seek or find faith. I believe in God and that one day the circle will be unbroken, but today I cried for (checks watch) almost 45 minutes about John Prine dying, so it’s certainly not a magic balm that eases all lives and has the power to protect us from the fear of death. Religion can be a real motherfucker, as history past and present shows us.

My answer is that I want you to try to first release this weighty sense of obligation for their feelings that so clearly presses on you. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t burn down their garage. They have experienced a form of loss and that’s for them to work through. But you do feel a sense of obligation to lighten their load, and I want to acknowledge that and offer some words of help.

Don’t dangle any “well, who knows what the future holds?” carrots in front of them. If a burning bush speaks to you, you can handle that when it comes. Expectation management is one of the true keys of human existence.

You are a person with values. Some of those values probably came from your parents. You can thank them for those values, if they have helped you become the good person you clearly are, without needing to buy into the belief system that provided them to your parents in the first place. You can talk to them about your own values. You do not have to be the Best Atheist in the World Who Cares About All Living Things and Climate Change and Systemic Inequality Every Single Damn Day; you can just be yourself. You’re the same kid they had last year. A good person.

You can also, down the road, absolutely say, “If you are gonna cry tears of agony at my wedding, don’t come.” That’s nonsense. If they try to win you back to Christ with teary phone calls in the more immediate future, you can say, “Let’s talk in a few days when you’re calmer.”

Just be yourself, all of yourself, be gentle but firm, maintain boundaries when necessary, and love them the best you can. That’s all anyone can do. I also encourage you to be aware of your own sense of loss, if you ever do perceive it as such, and to seek help from secular counselors if you need to process it. That doesn’t have to mean “I miss believing in God”; it can mean “I am sad that my natural progression as a human who lives in the world has affected my most foundational relationships and need to mourn that.” I’m glad you have found meaning and happiness in your life, and I wish you all the joy in the world.

Dear Care and Feeding,

I have a 4-year-old son who hums loudly while eating food he really enjoys. My husband thinks this is inappropriate behavior at the table and is a problem to be corrected. I see absolutely nothing wrong with it and assume he will grow out of it. He’s a completely normal delightful/crazy-making 4-year-old.

I don’t want my husband wasting quality time with his son harping about something that doesn’t really matter. Am I wrong on this?

—Loves a Pleasant Tune

Dear LaPT,

Oh, what a deliciously small problem, thank you so much for this. Honestly, at 4, I think your husband is right that it’s time to phase out loud vocalizations during dinner. (If your son has any markers for any developmental issues other than joyous food humming, and it turns out to be a verbal stim, I would probe that first, and I would be more inclined to let him enjoy his humming.) In the absence of such a reason, it’s not going to go over great at school, it’s clearly annoying the heck out of your husband, and I enjoy tremendous numbers of things I cannot do in front of other people at a sit-down dinner. It does not have an impact on my human flourishing, I assure you.

I don’t think “please do not hum at the table” is “wasting quality time.” It’s just parenting. He’s not going to look back on his life and say, “If only the two weeks it spent me to get my kid not to sound like a bumblebee when we had stroganoff for dinner could have been spent tossin’ the old pigskin around.” This will be over quickly, and you will barely remember it. If your husband is the only aggravated party, obviously you can expect him to be the “no humming” point person on this. You do not have to chime in, but I would encourage you not to actively undermine him in his quest, which is always a mistake for nonabusive familial situations.

See, too, if there’s a way he can take this musical impulse and do something a little less disruptive with it. I don’t mean “get him a harmonica,” but he might enjoy learning to sing. Exchange the behavior for a more productive one, if possible.

Congratulations on being an excellent cook! If your husband is the excellent cook, please pass on my compliments.

• If you missed Thursday’s Care and Feeding column, read it here.

• Discuss this column in the Slate Parenting Facebook group!

Dear Care and Feeding,

Just like everyone these days, I fear COVID-19. I’m staying at home, going to the store only when necessary, etc. My boyfriend is a police officer, and although I know he is very cautious, I’m worried about him unintentionally infecting me due to him having to work and human interaction. I have an autoimmune disorder and have repeatedly told him these concerns, yet he still comes over daily. He knows it’s serious but at the same time thinks it’s completely overblown. I’ve been clear that I do not agree. He’s taking it personally which floors me. I’m at a complete loss on how to handle this at this point.

—Losing It in Longview

Dear LIiL,

I need clarity on one point: Have you told him directly that he needs to stop coming to your house? Because if you have, as opposed to just telling him you’re worried and concerned about your autoimmune condition and the possibility of exposure, then he is in direct violation of your personal autonomy and you need to a) break up with him and b) carefully, as he clearly does not respect a “no.”

If you haven’t said, “I need you to stop coming over until things are under control,” then you need to say it now, today, and if his response is that you might as well just break up, that’s his choice. If he continues to violate your wishes, see the above paragraph. Our essential workers are essential, but so is your health.

I am not a dating columnist, but you came to me and here I am. I do not like this situation for you.

Is It OK to Go to the Zoo During the Coronavirus Pandemic?

Dan Kois, Jamilah Lemieux, and Elizabeth Newcamp host this week’s episode of Slate’s parenting podcast, Mom and Dad Are Fighting.

Dear Care and Feeding,

I’m not doing well. Are other parents doing well? I feel like the only person drowning when I see Instagram posts of learning-and-chore charts. I have to “work from home” with two small kids, and there just aren’t enough hours in the day. We do our best to do the remote learning we’re given, but some days it’s “let’s read a few books and then watch educational shows on Netflix.”

—I Feel Like a Schlub

Dear IFLaS,

We live in strange times, as did all previous generations at one point or another (Joni Mitchell spent weeks in a polio ward with essentially zero contact with her parents when she was 9 and still wrote “The Last Time I Saw Richard” eventually). You’re doing fine. Instagram is a lie. Be kind to yourself, do your best, and remember that every other kid is going to eventually return to school in a slightly more feral state and will need to catch up on things. The teachers know this. It’s just reality. You do not have to be a superstar; you just need to get through this. I also feel like I’m dropping the ball constantly, and I’m supposed to be a professional.

We’re in this together. Most kids have two months of essentially no education every summer, and yet they manage to grow and flourish and learn. One year where every kid gets double summer is not going to amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Younger kids, like yours, are going to barely remember this.

I let my kids watch part of Thor: Ragnarok yesterday. We’re all just making it through the day. My friends who are teachers are struggling just like everyone else. I think you’re great.

— Nicole

More Advice From Slate

My loving, kind boyfriend of five years has spent the last 10 months in prison. He was off to a great start in his profession when a friend snitched and he got in trouble for possession with intent to distribute an illegal drug (that is legal one state over). He is now getting out of jail in his early 30s with more than $180,000 in student loan debt, a felony conviction, and is losing his professional license. We have stayed together during this ordeal, and luckily my family and friends are very supportive. I love him dearly and can’t wait for him to be home, but as his release date gets closer, I am starting to have a return of some of the anxiety symptoms I began having after his arrest. I work full time in a field I am very passionate about and could eventually be employed by the government. I am worried about how his record will affect me in the long term. I also sometimes feel that I am being a real idiot for staying with him due to his poor decisions. However, I am crazy about him, and we have so much fun together all the time. Any advice?

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