#edens edge band

[allforthegaymes]

Neil josten and his disposable cameras against the world.

Neil josten who has spent his entire life ducking away from photos, whose heart still beats a little faster when he sees a photo blown up for a poster on the side of the stadium when the season starts up again. Who sees a news article about himself go up and refuses to read it, trusting his pr manager (and andrew) to make sure anything posted about him isnt something weird.

Neil josten with a different disposable camera tucked into the pockets of every pair of jeans, each backpack and duffel bag, and shoved into nearly any crevice of the apartment.

(Andrew fishes at least one a month out of the dryer after they get forgotten in Neils jeans)

At first Abby had suggested it as a way to get more used to hearing a camera flash and associate it with something positive.

So theres rolls and rolls of film developed around the dorm, photos of the foxes, the stadium when the sun sets over it and lights the sky up orange. Blurry photos from Edens of Aaron and Nicky dancing to ABBA, photographed right after is a picture of both of them leaning on the bar wall outside crying into their phones trying to call Katelyn and Erik.

(Andrew corrals them into the car when he realizes that Aaron and Nicky drunkenly called one another and had been blabbering to one another from just over a foot away thinking they’d actually called their respective partners)

A series of photos of Kevin drunk and half leaning over the bar trying to snag someone elses drink that Roland is in the middle of mixing, showing Roland darting back and forth trying to dodge Kevins long reach.

Another photo of Kevin being dragged out of Edens by security, Rolands mixer held up victoriously in his hand as he’s brought outside.

A picture of Allison leaning against her pink convertible. Her hair is tossed back behind her and her mouth is open with a loud bark of laughter. She’d glared at Neil after for taking a picture of her unaware but she has the photo pinned up in the girls dorm room anyways.

Photos of all the cats at the shelter when they decide to adopt Sir. Most of the photos are of Sir. Nearly all of them looking identical because of the Persian’s inability to not have a permanent glare on his face.

The cycle repeats when they get King. The Scottish Folds face etched with a permanently shocked look.

Theres a photo of her on the bathroom counter, feet blurry in the bottom of the photo but its clear shes trying to scramble backwards, the edge of a hair tie looped around the sink faucet and the other half lodged in her mouth as she tries valiantly to pull it loose without getting it in the water spray as Andrew washes his face in the mirrors reflection.

Andrew takes up the majority of the photos. Sure there’s hundreds pictures of the other foxes scattered about but Andrew is always Neil’s main focus.

Wether its actually Andrew framed front and center, always trying to give his typical unimpressed look but constantly betrayed by the uptick of the corners of his mouth, the slightest peak of his teeth when he closes his eyes at the beginning of a tired smile towards Neil.

Or if its not related to Andrew, the essence of him always ends up leaking in. The curl of cigarette smoke at the bottom of a photo of the sunset view from the top of Fox Tower. The reflection of his arm bands in the photo Neil snapped of the Maserati in the rain.

Neil’s favorites are the ones of him and Andrew in their house after theyve gone pro. Its a cozy house out in Washington, close enough to the Seattle team that they can comfortably commute each day without having to actually live within the city.

The lighting is always half shit because of the constant overcast sky outside. But the array of lamps inside always try their best to make the photos look orange and cozy.

Andrew sat asleep in Neils armchair. The bright orange fabric something that Andrew had huffed and rolled his eyes at, but constantly found himself in instead of the black designer chaise Andrew had bought. Both cats are on him. Sir sat on his shoulder glaring down at King, who is in the process of trying to eat his hoodie strings.

Andrew stood in the kitchen, his bare back turned towards Neil as he pours a smoothie out from the blender, arm already reached behind him and holding Neil’s smoothie glass out towards him.

Andrew a half second later, turned looking startled over his shoulder in shock from the sound of the camera shutter as Neils smoothie is caught in motion falling to the floor. Another photo following of Neil hunched over on the floor sweeping up glass.

A photo of Andrew stood with his hip cocked looking up at the light fixture on the ceiling, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stares up at it, the light half ripped out of the ceiling when he’d gotten the midnight urge to change it and then quickly remembered he was a professional athlete and not an electrician.

Andrew hunched over in the engine of a Mustang. The cars an obnoxious bright yellow, two black racing stripes gone up the middle of the hood. His hands are covered in grease and theres a streak of grease running through his short blonde hair as well. Theres a wrench in his hand and a jug of some fluid propped on the engine that Neil doesnt care enough to understand what its for.

And Neil knows the foxes start taking more pictures of him, can hear the camera shutter or see the flash going off but doesnt flinch away or try to sidestep out of the way anymore. Doesnt care that theres evidence of Neil Josten being a real man that exists and lives a real life outside of fake IDs and lies, because he has photos of the life he’s created for himself as well.

[their-we-go]

50+ Queer Movie Recommendations

Hi! I'm Ray, and I love queer movies. Here are all of the ones that I've seen that I can think of, including some favourites and some not-so-favourites.

Please feel free to ask me about particular movies or to recommend new ones that aren't on here yet—I'd really love to hear your suggestions!

Comedies & Rom Coms

D.E.B.S (2004)

But I’m a Cheerleader (1999)

Big Eden (2000)

The Birdcage (1996)

Happiest Season (2020)

Imagine Me & You (2005)

Latter Days (2003)

In & Out (1997)

Booksmart (2019)

Victor/Victoria (1982)

The Watermelon Woman (1996)

Horror & Thrillers

Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

What Keeps You Alive (2018)

Fear Street Trilogy (2021)

Jennifer’s Body (2009)

The Handmaiden (2016)

Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985)

Rope (1948)

Arthouse Films

Mulholland Dr. (2001)

Tropical Malady (2004)

The Duke of Burgundy (2014)

Documentaries & Based on True Events

The Celluloid Closet (1996)

Disclosure (2020)

A Secret Love (2020)

Pride (2014)

Historical

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

Carol (2015)

The Favourite (2018)

Desert Hearts (1985)

Maurice (1987)

Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Born in Flames (1983)

All of Us Strangers (2023)

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

Coming of Age

The Way He Looks (2014)

The Half of It (2020)

Bottoms (2023)

Edge of Seventeen (1998)

Shelter (2007)

Boys (2014)

Do Revenge (2022)

Summer Storm (2004)

Handsome Devil (2016)

Beautiful Thing (1996)

Get Real (1998)

North Sea Texas (2011)

Heartstone (2016)

Drama

Denied (2004)

Moonlight (2016)

Call Me By Your Name (2017)

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

You & I (2014)

God’s Own Country (2017)

The Boys in the Band (1970)

Weekend (2011)

Thanks for reading, and happy watching!

[hai7ani]

DIE FOR YOU 𑁍 haitani rindou

nsfw (smut) mdni

sweet / die for you / west coast / heart to heart

If one were to ask Haitani Rindou what matters to him the most in life, his answer would be the same every single time.

"My girl," he'll say.

It's straightforward, no sugarcoating, and he always says it nonchalantly, too. For someone at his age to answer anything but career or money always shocks people to the core -- but Rindou thinks it's fine. It's okay. It doesn't matter what they say or wonder. Because in the end when he comes back home to you and you greet his tired figure with warm arms and a pretty smile he suddenly doesn't feel like dying anymore -- he doesn't think it's wrong or shameful for you to be so important to him; for you to mean so much to him.

And Rindou will choose you every single time despite everything because he loves you an awful lot and he knows there is nothing in the world that can weigh and matter more to him than you.

The evening sun hangs low on the horizon and paints the skies a pretty apricot. Hot summer air turns into wind as it breezes through the Earth and into your opened window -- the furin you bought from Kyoto a while ago hangs sturdy on the wooden frame and it chimes softly with the sheer curtain you adore so much swaying together as the wind blows past. Its warmth makes you sweat and your skin is sticky and moist while you pant and moan in Rindou's ear; soft, pretty whines and lewd whimpers -- the signs of your Eden all because of him and for his ears only. It is only ever Rindou who gets to listen and savour it in his head while he loves your body to.

He flushes, the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest getting a little too overwhelming for a man like him to handle and he fucks you a bit harder at that -- a man like him who is brash and rough around the edges and he needs you there to smooth it all out. He wants you with him to ground his fleeting mind; when it gets so bad he starts hyperventilating and you're always there to hold him as you whisper lovely little words in his ear -- words he never got to hear when he was a child, words he never got to say as a teenager, words he thought he'd never experience when he is older.

Rindou's heart rattles against his chest, pride high into the heavens when you say his name again and again and he hugs you anymore closer to his body. He thinks you are everything that is made out of love. He even believes that you are love itself.

The collar of the tight tank top you're wearing is stretched and pulled beneath your breasts and Rindou sucks a nipple into his mouth. You gasp at the sensation of his tongue swirling around your hardened bud and it makes you clench tighter around his dick.

"Fuck," you curse when the tip of his cock kisses at your walls so perfectly and your pretty tits bounce up at his deep, hard thrusts. Your mouth is ajar and your sighs of pleasure escapes in the form of puffed breaths when he releases your bud with a lewd pop. "Fuck." You say it again and he moves to bite and suck on your bottom lip.

Rindou's hands finds themselves on top of your limp ones and he intertwines your fingers together. All twenty -- his that are bigger and thicker and longer than yours -- locked and gripped tight against one another. He feels the cool of the metal band on your finger against his skin and he smiles a little at it.

Rindou slows down his pace and you're quick to whine at the sudden change of speed, "baby . . ." but it hangs mid-air when he chooses to rub his pelvis up and down against your puffy clit instead. You moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your skull -- you actually think you saw some really bright stars back there and he buries his head into your neck, sucking and biting on the skin until it turns into a pretty shade of purple.

Rindou will never give you a moment where you feel the need to make him keep going. He knows you and your body far too well at this point to tease you; he just loves spoiling you so much. And so he makes love to you with fever and moves his hips just the way you like it. Your face scrunches up at the immense pleasure on your abdomen and your walls clamp around his dick hard.

You're cumming soon.

"Tell me . . ." Rindou hisses when you arch your back just right and he hits even deeper now. His pretty tip grazes at your sensitive spot and you mewl so sweetly into his ear he swears his balls are tightening at the sound.

He wants nothing more for you to let everything go; to feel your sweet, thick nectar coat around his veiny length as he fucks it back into your warm pussy when it leaks out.

"W-What?" You peer up at him through clouded, lustful eyes and Rindou licks at your lips before kissing them with fire in his heart -- you're the sole reason it ever lights up and you're also the one who is there to soothe it away when the flame gets too big and hot and it starts burning down the things around him.

Rindou feels his own high coming and proceeds to pull up your pliant arms and wrap them around his neck. He needs all of you. He wants all of you. He wants to become one with you. And you immediately latch on to him and whimper when you feel his warmth radiate against your body, chest to chest and face to face. It is summer and the hottest month of the season but you do not care -- Rindou's warmth is nothing like the stinging burn from the Sun and the Earth when it meets your skin. It is everything that is made out of love and it's comfortable and lovely and you can always feel it deep in your veins.

"Tell me you want the world," Rindou pants against your chin, pupils all blown out from the high amounts of chemical running through his brain and you bite down on your lip to hold in your gasps. He fucks you so well you think you might be losing it any second now.

But he simply pushes a thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from the bite of your teeth to keep it open for him and your noises starts echoing in the bedroom. It is loud and pretty and he wants nothing more than to grab his phone off the nightstand and put it on voice recording -- maybe he'll turn it into his new producer tag, but at the same time he doesn't want other people hearing you like this because he is selfish and he wants you all to himself.

Rindou's pace is fast but it is also gentle and soft when he thrusts his dick in and his tip doesn't stop abusing your spot. You moan and moan and moan.

Anytime now.

"Tell me you want the world. Anything. Everything. And I'll give it to you. Don't even gotta ask, baby. Jus' tell me." Rindou begs through broken stutters. He babbles it straight into your mouth. He speaks it to your flaming heart, to your ardent soul. You swallow his love and everything he has to give you. Your tongues meet and he kisses your lips sweet after.

You roll your eyes back, seeing nothing but clean white and you bury your head back deeper into the soft beneath. It is silk and fluffy and everything that is comfort. He's made sure to fluff it up right before you plopped down on it -- he doesn't want your neck to ache painfully after.

And you are so lovely in his eyes when your swollen lips part and his name -- the two syllables of a flower which symbolises affection and everlasting love that his mother named him after -- escapes your mouth in a soft voice.

You cum hard as you say it, head tilted back and your neck exposes his masterpiece. His lips, the brush and his love, the artist.

"Rindou . . . Jus' want you, baby."

Te deseo, cariño, boy, it's you I desire.

Fat tears escape and rolls down to the pillow as you lay all open for him to admire.

"Want nothin' but you."

Your love, your love, your love.

Your thighs tremble as your juices spray all over his abdomen and Rindou moans loudly into your mouth as he continues slapping his thick cock into your warm pussy.

He melts into you.

"I'm all yours, baby."

You become one together.

". . . All yours."

And he paints your gummy walls white.

Wet, squelching noises sounds through your tiny bedroom and he doesn't stop moving despite the intense overstimulation of your sex. You break into many tears and sob loudly as he shoves the mixture of your nectar and his pollen back into your pretty, gooey pussy with deep and long thrusts and he cups your face all the while. He swipes a calloused thumb across your wet, rosy cheek and you sigh when you can finally think straight again.

"Love you so much . . ." He admires your face and Rindou keeps his dick snug in your pussy. He twitches and you spasm -- it's like they're talking to each other as well.

"Love you the most, pretty girl." He kisses your forehead sweetly and you sniffle while trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck, I'll die for you."

You smile through tears, the apple of your cheeks rising with your happiness and his mouth moves up to bite a little on it.

Rindou would actually die for you and you know that. He's said it to you many times, but he never likes it when you say you'd do the same for him too. "No, you can't do that." "If you can do that then I can too."

"I'll die for you, baby."

And he kisses your salty tears away. He wipes the sweat off your forehead. He kisses on your fluttery eyelids softly.

Two of you at 25, bad with words yet harbouring so much love and affection for each other that you don't know what to do with so you spend it on each other's bodies at every given chance. And the thing is, it never runs out -- your love for him is infinite and his love for you is boundless. And you'll keep on telling each other again and again until it stops and there is no more love to spend on each other anymore.

But you figure it is impossible. You don't think you will ever stop loving him in this lifetime or the next. There can only be Rindou and your love for Rindou and there can only be you and his love for you in both your worlds.

Soft, gentle kisses are scattered all over your bodies as you lay in bed together that evening, fixing each other up and whispering eternal promises in each other's ear. You hold him tight as you both regain your senses and he puffs a warm breath onto your cheek. It smells of sweet strawberry from the bowl he had earlier and you grin and press your cheek to his, relishing in your love and his love and everything that the two of you are and have created in this tranquility.

"I'll marry you." He murmurs. "My pretty girl." He praises. "I love you." He confesses. You blush at all three and turn to bury your head in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent and although he is so sticky and sweaty you still love him so much.

While he is slowly dozing off at the comfortable feeling of you rubbing and massaging at his sore back, a scene from a few days ago plays in his head.

Rindou ran into an old friend -- Hanagaki Takemichi -- the other day at the store and the two men shared a drink in an izakaya later on. He hasn't seen the blonde boy for a very long time and realise he has changed a lot now -- no longer the weak and crybaby he was back then. And despite being a few years younger than Rindou, he is already the father of a 7 month-old baby who is sitting on his lap and munching on a piece of mango seed her father picked from a Tupperware.

"She's teething now, excuse the mess." Takemichi grins, holding the fruit to her mouth as she chews on it messily and Rindou smiles softly at the sight. He shakes his head, telling him he doesn't mind -- "let babies be babies" -- while observing her little features. "Looks a lot like her mother." He nods at her tiny figure and Takemichi laughs loudly. "Yeah, right? Hina is so happy about that."

Rindou bring his glass up to his mouth with a lopsided smile and Takemichi suddenly remembers when he looks at the older man's fingers.

It's not there.

"How old are you, Rindou-kun?" He asks curiously and the said man downs his drink in one go. "25." Rindou hisses at the strong taste and licks off the excess on his lips.

"That's 3 more years, then."

Rindou is confused now. He raises a brow while picking up a steaming hot dumpling and shoves it into his mouth.

"3 more years? To what?" He asks while chewing on his food and Takemichi's eyes turn into thin crescents.

"Your wedding."

Rindou is aware that Hanagaki Takemichi is no ordinary man. He's someone who's saved countless of lives with his ability and has never once backed down from his goal; be it by fear or all of the horrors he's witnessed in all the different timelines, Takemichi has never once let himself be swayed and intimidated by it. He is a determined man and a hero. He is a saviour. And after finding out about it during their very last Toman meeting many years ago, Rindou only harbours nothing but pure respect for the man sitting before him.

"I've seen her, you know," Takemichi sighs with a wide smile while refilling his and Rindou's cup with saké. "Your girlfriend." He looks into Rindou's eyes and chuckles a little at his puzzled expression. Little Hina yelps in his lap and her father is quick to hush her down with soft pats to her head.

Rindou's heart thumps at the mention of you.

"What about her?"

"I've been to so many different timelines, yeah? And I see you in every single one. You're either a civilian, a criminal or a rich man in all. And you know that, I've told you before last time. But what I never told you is that . . . I've also seen her too, heh. Even in the Bonten timeline."

Rindou's flushes at that. He doesn't like it when someone mentions the Bonten timeline because in it contains the very version of himself that he never wants to become. He can't stomach the thought of hurting someone to the point of no return. Sure, he's beaten many people up when he was younger and have done some illegal things. But murder? Drug trafficking? Prostitution? And everything else that is illegal in the book? He doesn't think he is capable of doing them. So with him being in Japan's most feared criminal organisation? And you're there as well? What does that even mean? And his wedding in 3 years? What?

Takemichi's eyes flickers again at Rindou's very empty fingers. He burns holes into them and Rindou shyly retracts his hands away from the wooden table and rests them on his lap. He starts picking the skin around his thumb as he looks at Takemichi who is busy pondering his thoughts.

"You have a silver ring that has the design of bellflowers engraved on it, don't you? Your mother gave it to you when you were young."

Rindou's eyes widened at his abrupt yet very true question and he sits up straight, knee banging the other vacant chair at their table and he apologises to the startled lady beside.

"How'd you know?" He asks with no hesitation, albeit a little curt and Takemichi ignores it.

"Did you give it to her?" He nods hesitantly, eyes not looking away from the man's. He needs to know how he knows; he doesn't recall telling anyone about it. Only you, Ran and his parents knows about the ring.

Rindou slipped it on to your finger one night in bed some time ago when you both got into a fight. It was his way of apologising -- the ring that he treasures so, so much and he thinks it is only fitting that he gives it to the person he loves the most (though she is upset with him). You are his life and death and everything in between and he tells you just that when you cry and say it hurt when he yelled at you. He says he is so sorry and kisses you so sweetly after that you don't even remember the point of your argument anymore.

Takemichi laughs.

"That ring . . . It's on her finger every time I go into the future or back to the past. Even in the Bonten one. I saw it when she pointed a gun at my head. Good God. She's with you in every single timeline, Rindou-kun."

All the worries in Rindou's brain vanishes in an instant. Whatever doubt or confusion he had earlier floating around? They are all gone with the wind. He grins and giddily swirls the drink in his glass, giggling like a fool while Takemichi rocks his bubbly daughter on his lap.

"I was invited to your wedding once and I saw the two of you together." The blonde recalls seeing your arm hooped around Rindou's as he walks with you down the aisle. Petals are scattered all over you two and you were smiling so brightly. He tells Rindou all about it and the older man listens intently with love in his eyes. "You get married at 28 in every timeline. Did you make any promises with her about 28?"

Rindou remembers and suddenly it all makes sense now. He nods and hides his blushy face in his arm. "My pretty girl once told me 28 feels like a good age to do many things. Dunno, she's weird like that." He laughs and his phone vibrates next to his hand. The screen lights up and it's a text message from someone irrelevant but his eyes focuses on the wallpaper of you munching on a mouthful of rice. You look like a squirrel in it and Rindou finds himself falling in love all over again. (He does that every day. No big deal.)

"Waaah," Takemichi exclaims with a fond smile. "Not a single timeline where the two of you don't end up together, huh?"

He simply smiles at Takemichi's words.

And your voice is quiet when you nose at his cheek in bed.

"This is so dumb but like, you know how Spiderman has like, the multiverse and there's always a same thing that happens every time in every universe and it is your fate, right? Is it a canon event? I dunno what's it called." You're not an avid watcher of Spiderman but you know Rindou is. And there's something really important that you really want him to know right now. But you don't know how to put it into a normal sentence and a normal example. You're bad with words. You hope he understands you.

"Yeah." He murmurs sleepily into your neck.

"Well, can I call us a canon event, then? If the multiverse is real, I'm sure we're together in every single one . . . I really hope it is that way, Rin. I dunno what I'd be without you." You kiss his cheek. You feel vulnerable and silly and hot tears spring to your waterline.

I hope you got my message.

↻ loading . . .

Yeah, kinda stupid, but I got it.

He smirks and wraps his arms tighter around your frame, trying to tell you that it's okay, because he wouldn't know what he'd be without you either. And he guess he'll indulge you for a bit.

"We already are, baby."

drops this n runs off to study for my test tomorrow

'tell me you want the world and i'll give it to you' x 'i only want nothing but you'

i've always wanted to use the canon event thing since the day i watched across the spiderverse in the cinema but never knew how to write it ... i hope it makes sense???? idk. maybe it made more sense in my mind cus when i wrote it out it felt SO STUPID RWARHWBSVRWFAAFA but its kinda cute so.......

꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ reblogs r appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[kittenfangirl20]

Alternative Snow White Au

This takes place after Adam fell to Hell and him and Lucifer have patched things up a bit and are dancing around their feelings for each other.

Sera learns that up in heaven that Adam is alive. But that is a bad thing because he knows the secrets of the inner workings of heaven and extermination and what happens to disobedient angels.

-

Sera: You’re sure that he is alive?

Jay: I saw him for myself Sera. Adam is alive in Hell with the King at his daughters hotel.

That would not end well. She needed to find a way to fix this.

Sera: Thank you. I will take care of this.

Jay left and Sera went to the secret room in her office. As she walked into the room she passed rows of wings and halos on the wall. At the very end was a halo with no wings.

The plaque read: Adam.

-

Down in Hell Adam was attending one of Charlie’s lessons. Lucifer was sitting on the other end of the couch stealing glances at the fallen angel.

He had just earned Adams trust back and he didn’t want to mess it up again. He loved him but was worried that his feelings were not returned.

Little did he know Adam felt the same.

*Adam watched Lucifer from the edges of his sight, one of the few things he liked about being in Hell was being so close to Lucifer, his Luci, they were basically back to how they were in Eden, very close friends, but Adam wanted more, he wanted love that people wrote songs about, but he had to take what he could get*

Charlie: Also we have a little party to celebrate Adam doing so well for his first month here.

*Adam blushed a little, he didn’t think he would get along with the Princess of Hell so well after they butted heads so much the last half year*

Charlie: We made Adam’s favorite dishes of ribs, baked potatoes which you can fix however you want to, red velvet cake, and dad even made pancakes.

*the group set everything up and were allowed to serve themselves, when Adam was reaching towards a plate his hand and Lucifer’s hand met which caused both men to blush*

Lucifer: So for your month anniversary I would like to take you to Lu Lu World where you can do whatever you want to.

Adam: That sounds fucking awesome.

*after the party which went pretty late into the night, Adam started to go up to his room and he noticed Angel Dust following, Adam grew to really like the spider Sinner and saw him as a friend, but he wondered what Angel Dust wanted*

Angel Dust: So what are you going to wear on your date?

Adam: I don’t think that Luci sees what we are tomorrow as a date. But I guess I am going to wear something like this.

*Adam had on a shirt of a metal band he liked and some jeans with holes in the knees*

Angel Dust: I am not going to let one of my best friends go on a date looking like that, when you get married to Hell’s favorite short king and are pregnant with his babies, you will thank you.

Adam: I really regret telling you that I became intersex when I fell and just recently got over my first period.

Angel Dust: Wait right here and we can try out some outfits that will make you sexy in your room, it could be like a slumber party.

*Angel Dust ran off to get some clothes and makeup for Adam to try*

Adam internally: I guess there is no harm in trying this out and seeing what Luci thinks.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[sparklingsora]

Hi. I would like to know many things about your roleswap au bc I love it very much but I have no idea what to ask I just want to know many things bc my brain has been consumed already

uhhhhh I guess can you lore dump a little bit on backstories? Idk I just wanna know everything about this au

I will be back in your ask box for this au several times most likely

-Spaghetti Brain Anon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!! i am SO glad that i could get this au to live in someone else's brain rent free too. all i could ever ask for in life tbh i guess i'll infodump about character backstories, dynamics, character arcs, all that juicy stuff putting it under cut because HO BOY THIS IS GONNA GET LONG

as a heads up, take the timeframes i give you with a grain of salt, because i still havent completely figured out the timeline so first of all, vox!! he's a sinner, died in the 1950s, as per canon. he's a businessman, but less stable than in canon. he's always jumping from job to job, business to business, which results in him having a lot of connections with various people around hell. soon after arriving in hell, he met and became friends with alastor. cut to, i'd say around 7-10 years before the events of the story? alastor disappears without a trace during an extermination and vox assumes him dead. having now been personally touched by the effects of the extermination, the idea to try and solve overpopulation another way is planted in his head, but wont come to fruition until much later. in the meantime he meets velvette - finds her bleeding out in an alleyway after getting too cocky and trying to fight back to an exorcist (bad idea). he nurses her back to health, they become friends and eventually start dating, yada yada yada. one day vox and velvette find a funky little cat (keekee). keekee takes a liking to them and leads them to the old ruins of a building up on the hill on the edge of pentagram city. they figure out that the cat turns into a keyblade that can be used to magically build shit (only the hotel though, as keekee is the spirit of the hotel or??? whatever the hell the canon lore is idk???) vox finally decides to realize his idea to try and solve overpopulation more humanely - through redeeming sinners! his reasoning is, if angels can fall (as proven by lute and charlie), then demons can surely ascend, right? though he's not as sure or idealistic about it as charlie is in canon. he simply thinks it has a chance of working, and opening up a hotel means a bigger sample size than if he were to just try and get into heaven himself or something like that. besides, he wouldnt wanna go to heaven, he likes it here. also, im not sure where this is situated in the timeline yet, but he was in a band with adam, lute and possibly eve at some point? the band is called brimstone eden, as mentioned in the comic i posted. im not sure yet whether he was in the band prior to eve's disappearance or after it (eve disappears 7 years before the story starts to mirror canon lilith). swap!vox, like his canon counterpart, is a very reactive person. he follows trends, he's extremely go-with-the-flow to a fault. he never really had any strong beliefs until the hotel - his character arc mainly involves him gaining something to believe in and learning to fight for that belief, 'ready for this' being more or less the culmination of his arc. jesus christ i cant believe i wrote that much JUST on vox. *slaps the top of his head* this boy can fit so much lore in him

now, velvette... she's how you'd expect her to be. same old brave, arrogant velvette. she's a fashion designer and seamstress and runs a moderately sized business which she promotes on sinstagram. she's mutuals with val there, which is how he finds out about the hotel. there's not much to write home about when it comes to val - it's insane how similar angel and him are. like literally barely anything changes when you swap them, it's very clean. he's a prn star, sold his soul to angel dust, yada yada. though a bit on his dynamic with vox - vox is very good at reading people, and doesn't like being lied to (he's a bit of a hypocrite in that regard - he puts on a facade all the time when in professional settings). he can clearly tell val isnt doing as good as he pretends he is, and wants to help him really badly, but val just sees it as vox pitying him and rejects his help (its what they fight about in ep 4, as a counterpart to the whole "charlie going to the studio" thing bc vox wouldnt do that) and now here's the fun part - ALASTOR! oh, alastor, you beautiful stuck up bitch! so turns out, he's not so dead after all! he ALMOST died in that fateful extermination, but husk found him and offered him a "give me your soul right now or bleed out in this alleyway" type deal. of course alastor chose the former, but boy he's not happy about it. he's extremely ashamed of how far he's fallen. so ashamed, in fact, that he hid from the world for those 7-10 years! yeah! he's only pulled out of hiding when husk summons him to be the bartender for the hotel. vox is of course, extremely bewildered and demands answers. alastor doesnt give them and avoids him instead. it takes a sincere conversation with valentino in ep 4 for alastor to finally talk to vox again and explain himself. alastor is basically in extremely deep denial of just how fucked his life is. he clings onto his radio demon persona like a lifeline bc its the last thing that can help him feel some semblance of control over his situation. his tension with valentino is twofold - first they butt heads because of opposing personalities, and second because they both see the other's bullshittery. it's a clusterfuck it eventually bubbles over in ep 4, they both admit how absolutely fucked they are and are friends now. wish i could say more on al & val bc i love them very much but it seems ive run out of eloquency for now. though i know i'll draw some comics of them eventually so maybe it'll come across better in comic form. anyway as mentioned above ive run out of eloquency and im honestly not sure how coherent this whole thing is so you'll have to come back for the other characters some other time, dear anon! until then, thank you so much for the ask once again, and have a nice day/night :)

[cheeseplants]

The Ecstasy of Eden: 4 & 5

Good Omens fic: Chap 4 & 5 Four of five times they used sex pollen, and one time they didn't

Excerpt

“The music is good, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said, his face as bright as the morning sun. Crowley’s eyes dropped to his lips, moist from whiskey, he noticed a small dot of cream on the edge of his mouth.

“You have -” Crowley leaned forward without thinking, and ran his thumb to catch it. Aziraphale’s cheeks turned pink, and his eyes stretched wide.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s small pink tongue dipped out, and brushed the edge of Crowley’s thumb; a volt of electricity zapped his hand, he pulled away stunned.

“Eclair,” Aziraphale smiled, licking the corner of his lip to fish the rest of the cream off. Crowley’s fingers clenched hard against his thigh.

He looked so beautiful. Why did he always have to look so damn beautiful?

“Right, mm, yeah.” He stared forward, not daring himself to gaze any longer.

The band stopped, and the air stilled; Aziraphale glanced up and caught Crowley’s eyes through his dark glasses. The air crackled with static electricity, and Crowley’s knees bounced, unable to stop it, he knocked into Aziraphale.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, he began to move it away.

A hand caught it.

---

Things are happening in a seedy jazz club in London.

It's a double chap drop this week for reasons.

CW: Sex pollen, dub con

Rating: Explicit

Start here

Read Chap 4 & 5 here.

We're nearly at the end. Thanks to: @adverbian, @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey again for the High Sex Pollen Event! And to my lovely betas: @fuzzygoblin , and @happynachohologram.

@goodomensafterdark

[bengiyo]

Comfort Films Tag

Rules: List 7 of your comfort movies, then tag 7 people.

Tagged by @callipigio

1 - Shelter (2007)

I often joke around here about how I’ve been watching queer cinema for over half of my life at this point, and it’s easy to recommend this film. This is a coming of age film about a guy who gave up art school to become the primary breadwinner and caregiver for his family. However, when the older brother of his best friend returns to their town to collect himself, our artist and he reconnect and find something special between them. Great use of a young actor in this shores up the caregiving aspects.

I’m probably going to rewatch it now. Because it was produced by Here! TV, you can only legally watch it via a subscription to their platform. I own it on DVD because I fell in love with it and knew I needed to keep it forever.

2 - Big Eden (2000)

Big Eden. Oh, Big Eden. This is the film equivalent of a warm blanket and a tight hug. It’s about an artist named Henry Hart, who is preparing for a big exhibition in New York when he’s called back home to Montana because his uncle has had a stroke. We are greatest with the most queer-friendly town to ever exist as Henry manages his old angst about his straight best friend as the local general store owner also secretly pursues him. It’s absolutely lovely.

3 - The Blues Brothers (1980)

Luna has great taste, because this is one of the best films ever made. What was originally just an SNL bit turns into a fun road film about getting the band back together so that two brothers can raise enough money to pay the back taxes owed by the orphanage they grew up in. We also run over Illinois nazis in this movie and demolish dozens of cop cars. Cab Calloway, James Brown, Carrie Fisher, Chaka Khan, Paul Reubens, and Aretha Franklin are in it. John Candy orders orange whips. This is the kind of film I would watch with my dad any time it was on.

4 - Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

This is one of the most man movies ever made. I don’t know any woman who wants to sit down and watch this film, but me and boys will spend an entire afternoon on this film in a heartbeat. The sexual tension between Russell Crowe’s and Paul Bettany’s characters goes unremarked on this website in a way that lets you know for sure this hellsite is dominated by femmes, because those two have definitely fucked. At least twice. It’s 1805 and oceans have become battlefields!

5 - Clue (1985)

A movie based on the board game of the same name should not have been this good, but it instead goes on to become a camp masterpiece. Many people will end up remembering Tim Curry for Rocky Horror or even Muppet Treasure Island, but this is still one of his favorite performances for me. This film is batshit and I love it. 

6 - Camp (2003)

Speaking of camp films, let’s talk about one of the best of all time. I know we often talk about the bad singing in Thai BL, but I unironically love all of the musical theater in this film. I regularly listen to this soundtrack, and have been for over 15 years. It’s a film about a bunch of weird theater kids who get to escape the bullying and hellishness of their lives for a few weeks during the summer, where they get to put on a bunch of classic plays. It’s so camp. I love this film because it was difficult for me to find queer films that had happy components with them, and this little movie has a wide array of queer kids in it.

7 - Make The Yuletide Gay (2009)

This was the first queer film I ever watched that had a happy ending that was also a comedy. Prior to this, I think I had watched Beautiful Thing (1996), Edge of Seventeen (1998), Get Real (1998), and Bent (1997). Most of those films ended resolved or sad. Yuletide is a silly little gay film of almost nonstop innuendo about a guy who goes back into the closet when he returns home for Christmas, but hijinks ensue when his boyfriend shows up unexpectedly. It’s an annual watch for me around the holidays, and I usually host people for it. 

Also, Adamo Ruggiero is in it! He played Marco on Degrassi: The Next Generation.

This was fun! I think most folks have been tagged that I know, but I’ll tag @warningtothecurious​. If anyone else does this, please tag me back if you do this! I want to know what films you all return to.

[winterpinetrees]

Alright everybody. Here’s how the Hozier concert went. Consider this a journal entry for myself.

I saw him on Boston Night Two. It was at this really big tent right on the ocean. Pros, you’re right on the ocean, which fits the Unreal Unearth theme. It was also small enough that I could see him super well even from the back. Cons, it was 58 degrees Fahrenheit and raining. Boston gets much colder in Winter (of course) but that’s really miserable for September. My seat was in the back at the edge of the tent, so I was very cold and a bit wet. It was still great though. Here’s some details in no particular order.

Madison Cunningham opened for Hozier, and I actually really like her music! The opening act thing worked.

It was the same basic set as the other concerts. Starting with De Selby and ending with Take Me To Church. Then Unknown/Nth and Work Song for an encore. I think ours got started late and the encore usually has 3 songs.

De Selby rocked. The lights were so cool looking.

I was able to recognize most of the songs before the crowd started screaming, except for From Eden. Slightly embarrassed by that one.

Hozier took off his jacket before Movement, and the crowd went absolutely bonkers. He’s literally just a person. He has a shirt on under it. Calm down.

There was a call and response bit before To Be Alone

There was absolutely no break between To Be Alone and Dinner and Diatribes. The lighting just shifts and now it’s a new song!

I don’t love Icarrion or Cherry Wine, so I sat down for that part. Very pretty, beautiful set, just not my thing.

He introduced To Someone From A Warmer Climate with a little talk about learning Irish and commiserating over how cold it was. Boston can pretend to be a “Warmer Climate” in August, but not last night.

He also introduced Nina Cried Power (which I am so happy was played!) with a talk about the music of revolution and both the American and Irish civil rights movements. Idk if he always does that but it made me happy.

Damage Gets Done! Damage Gets Done my beloved.

Take Me To Church was one of the loudest things I’ve ever heard. Everyone was singing. It was amazing.

Work Song had this really haunting intro.

He thanked his band by name no fewer than three separate times, and he thanked the entire tech crew at the start and end.

I think he used four different guitars? Kinda confused by that to be honest.

Basically, it was a great night. I loved it. I highly recommend seeing Hozier live if you have the chance.

Here’s the Nina Cried Power speech. Sorry about the bad phone quality and the person talking behind me.

[firewoodfigs]

remember, beloved (also on ao3)

In your younger days, your father spoke the gospel, like God himself: how can you know who is evil? How can you know who is good? He starved the kitchen, but his words rang through and true. How can you know anything when you’re just a child?

Years later, you still don’t know. The edges of truth are always jagged, rough and ugly. You wish no one ate that apple. You wish you stayed ignorant. You wish your mind stayed suspended in the wings of make-believe—your only juvenile salvation—like curtains on a traverse rod, cloaking the bleak apertures of unworn socks. One moment you’re playing tag with your ragtag band of friends. The next, their body blown to rags. Only their dog tags returned. And each day barks, like a dog, violent and scared.

Someone out there tags you with a new face, a new name. You wish it were that easy to forget. It’s as the poets said—love is so short, forgetting is so long.

You remember hearing your friends say before, over a game of poker, that most, if not all of life is a gamble. So you wait and wonder if anyone will take their odds on you, when they discover they’ve been stacked against you from the start.

Elsewhere, someone pilfers a win. You sit with your loss, dressing it up in polished Berlutis until it’s time to go. Grief slips away, momentarily; a father in the night with secrets to hide.

By fate, or by chance, or some incredible happenstance, someone does. Someone takes their odds on you. The die rolls. And dawn, like a strained smile, breaks again, but the slant of light that creeps in is tenuous at best.

Morning comes, and with it old ghosts. Your mother’s legacy speaks another truth: to love again is to gift someone a blade. You give them power over you. You give them the power to hurt you. You give them the power to crucify what you tried to bring back to life. You give them your end. What she omitted to say was, you give them your beginnings, too. The genesis is always the most frightening bit, tremulous and unclear in its wake. And how can you have faith, when you’ve grown so cynical? But when you taste the apples in her mouth, you think neither of Eve, nor the snake that doomed us all to hell. You just think it’s sweet. Soft, like a mist. Perfect, like Eden before sin.

Against all odds, it seems, love came knocking. One day your hands are drenched red; the next it's laced in your lover’s. Who claims you as hers. Who writes on your body, a brand new poem; sunshine and salvation.

Now you stand in the kitchen, born anew; an island of love and light stretching beyond all contours of time. Your lover’s words ring through and true. Remember, beloved, that you are dearly loved.

[ladyphlogiston]

I don't have a title for this yet. Also it is entirely unedited. Usually I make my husband edit my writing, but he's sick.

Anyway, this is the first part of my @inklings-challenge story. I have the next bit mostly written in my head and some of the rest sort of plotted? Honestly I don't know. It might be Terrible. We'll see.

"Where should we be next, Zillah?" Vesta asked.

Zillah straightened up, shook her long brown braid back, and surveyed the ruins of the village of Cubrickton. The survivors of the fire had been relocated to the remaining homes, and wounded were being treated in the Home's infirmary. Hestia was helping to rebuild some of the houses, but high summer meant there would be plenty of time and available hands to rebuild before the harvest. They could probably move on.

"How is Eden doing?" she asked.

Vesta shrugged. "She's okay. Getting tired, but everyone has been treated so the heavy triage is over."

Zillah nodded. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms together, focusing inwards on her Gift. She opened her eyes again. "We're still supposed to be here," she said, frowning.

Vesta looked around. "Why? Did we miss someone?"

Zillah shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe there's something else coming and they need our help building?"

"Might as well." Vesta moved towards the nearest burned-out shell. She picked up a half-burned board, tucked it under her arm, and began sifting through the rubble for others.

Zillah worked her way along the side of the ruined wall, collecting china plates that must have fallen from an interior shelf. Some of them were intact.

A purple light formed in the air between them, rippling oddly in the air. Both the sisters turned to look at it, then look at each other in consternation.

"Or maybe we're here for that?" Zillah suggested.

"Any idea what it is?" Vesta asked, backing away carefully.

"My Gift just says it's a portal, which is less helpful than you'd think," Zillah replied.

"Is it dangerous?"

"Don't know."

The sisters waited as it got larger and brighter. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it vanished, leaving a young man in strange clothing behind. He dropped hard against the stone and rolled over to slam against the foundation of the house, as if he'd fallen from a height.

"Well." Zillah looked at him, then bent over to check his pulse. "Still alive. Better make a stretcher for him, in case that fall rattled something."

"What's his name?" Vesta asked. She laid one of her boards on the street, then pulled a length of twine from her pocket and began tying shorter sticks to the top and bottom. Under her hands, the air shimmered as her Gift turned the boards into a full stretcher.

"Paul," Zillah replied. "I can't see his home. It's very far away. For now he belongs with us, I think."

They carefully loaded him onto the stretcher and carried him towards Home. The big egg-shaped structure, apparently woven from willow branches, was on the edge of the town, and they passed through a hole in the side into the clay-lined infirmary inside.

Eden looked up as they entered. She helped Zillah transfer the young man to an empty bed, then unwrapped the orange band that wrapped over her curls and covered her ears. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Paul," Zillah answered. "He was unconscious when he....appeared."

Kaylee looked Paul over, focusing intently with her hands hovering over his body. "Just bruised, I think," she said. Briskly she refastened her headband and grabbed a pot of salve from the workbench, then rolled him over and began peeling his short tunic away from his back so he could apply the salve to his back and shoulders.

Vesta allowed the stretcher to fall back into pieces of wood and twine, and put the twine back into her pocket. She headed back towards the entrance to throw the pieces of wood away, and met her twin sister coming in.

"Another?" Hestia asked, seeing Paul on the bed.

"He's not a villager. He just appeared. Like a Major Gift, but there wasn't anyone there to use it," Vesta explained.

Hestia raised her eyebrows. "A True Miracle, then?"

Zillah joined them. "I think so. He's from far away."

"Well, there's not much to do until he wakes up," Hestia decided. "Does he need to stay here or can we get moving?"

"He belongs with us, so probably we can go. Did you say our goodbyes?" Zillah asked

Hestia nodded.

"Good."

They made their way through the clay-lined rooms of Home to the driving bench at the front, where a woven window opened into the streaming sunlight. A map of Gasardia was pinned to the wall, covered with careful annotations in colored ink.

Hestia found Cubrickton, on the road between Thire and Philomel. She added a purple X and the date to the map, tracking their journey so far. Zillah would update the logbook with details of their work while they traveled.

Zillah sat on the bench, facing the map, and pressed her palms together. She allowed her eyes to unfocus, looking at what her Gift was saying rather than at the map itself.

Finally she looked up, puzzled. "We're supposed to be in Acoda Keep."

"We can't get to Acoda Keep!" Hestia objected.

"I know that and you know that," Zillah replied. "But apparently my Gift thinks we can."

Hestia sighed, and traced the road south. "Acoda Point is at least a three day journey," she said. "I guess we could start in that direction. If we end up having to stop, we'll figure it out from there."

Zillah nodded. "Thanks. We'll pass through Lorton tomorrow, so I'll check our stores. We can stop at the market."

[elegy-if]

Is it possible to get "🌶" for all the ROs?

🌶  —  for a headcanon about an intimate experience in my muses life.

Under the cut! some very very vague slight NSFW ^__^ Also not all of these are romantic/sexual, I'm a huge fan of intimacy between friends and family as well.

FELIX: Hands lingering for a second too long, fingertips rough and calloused as the mic is passed around on the stage of some grody dive bar. The smell of shitty booze all around them, lingering on each others breaths as they all hang off of each other. Later, in the backseat of the van, a tongue running across Felix's bottom lip.

Honestly, his band was super intimate with each other all throughout their run. The whole thing was an Experience. Back before their falling out, the band was quite good at blurring the lines between friendship and something more but not quite romance with each other. It started off simple -- brushing hands, leaning on each other when they were drunk and hot and sweaty from a show but too caught up in the moment to care. And if they made out on stage a couple times, who's to say?

EDEN: Sun shining through the cracked open windows as the birds chirp in the distance and the soft hum of a radio playing music. The sweet scent of syrup and pancakes mixing in the air and wafting out the window. Hearty laughter from their parents and smiles so wide their cheeks hurt.

You know Eden's world famous pancakes from this? It's nothing special to anyone aside from them (though they are good) but the recipe is from Eden's mother. They've committed it to memory after all the mornings they spent helping her serve some up before school. It's a small comfort, but whenever Eden's feeling down they tend to pull up a music station with some hits from around the time of their childhood while they cook.

SABLE: A collective held breath as they hang over the edge of a drop. Screams and gasps as the ride twists and turns over a loop. Giddy laughter from the seat next to them. But most importantly -- and the only thing keeping Sable's tears from spilling -- Sable's brother's slightly smaller hand held tight in their grip.

Sable does not like heights. Sable isn't even a particularly big fan of theme parks, either. Yet here they are, dragged onto the tallest roller coaster in the park the second they stepped foot in it by their overexcited little brother. They focus on the slight stickiness to their brothers hand, choosing to be disgusted instead of terrified out of their mind. When they step off of the ride on shaky knees, Sable begrudgingly nods yes when their brother pleads with them to go on for another spin, only thinking of his hand still squeezed tight in theirs and his laughter ringing in their ears.

ERIS: The comfortable weight of legs across their lap. A microwave beeping and the scent of popcorn as the door swings open. Laughter as another character in the movie dies as the result of a stupid mistake.

It's not often Eris gets time off. Even less does their time off line up with more than one of their coworkers, who Eris would tentatively even refer to as acquaintances, maybe even friends. And what better way to show your trust to the hitmen you compete against for the highest ranking spot than allowing them into your home? It could be an easy kill. A quick slice across the throat when one of them inevitably dozes off. Perhaps even poison, if they wanted to spice things up. And yet Eris is almost completely relaxed, secure in the fact that everyone, including Eris themself, want a day away from the bloodshed.

???: A smile.

[their-we-go]

Queer Movie Recs

Hi, I’m Ray and I love queer movies! Here are some of my favourites:

Feel-Good Movies

D.E.B.S (2004)

But I’m a Cheerleader (1999)

The Way He Looks (2014)

Pride (2014)

Big Eden (2000)

Booksmart (2019)

Desert Hearts (1985)

The Birdcage (1996)

The Half of It (2020)

Victor/Victoria (1982)

Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

You & I (2014)

The Watermelon Woman (1996)

Not Totally Feel-Good, But the Ending is Happy

Shelter (2007)

Edge of Seventeen (1998)

God’s Own Country (2017)

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

Honestly Not That Happy But I Still Like Them A Lot

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

Denied (2004)

Moonlight (2016)

The Boys in the Band (1970)

The Handmaiden (2016)

The Weekend (2011)

Born in Flames (1983)

Mulholland Dr. (2001)

Jennifer’s Body (2009)

Documentaries

The Celluloid Closet (1996)

Disclosure (2020)

A Secret Love (2020)

Movies I Didn’t Actually Love but that Everyone Else Seems to Like So I’ll Put Them on the List

The Favourite (2018)

Carol (2015)

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

Imagine Me & You (2005)

Handsome Devil (2016)

Beautiful Thing (1996)

Happiest Season (2020)

I’m sure I forgot some, so I’ll update as I think of more/watch more movies. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for me!! I’m also happy to try and give summaries/trigger warnings for particular movies, if any one wants that! You can send me a message or an ask if you do :-)

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

The Eden Club

Chapter 6: You'll look for me in someone forever

Fandom: Detroit Become Human

Ships: HankCon(main), Hankvin(previous), Convin(secondary), HankConGav(eventual)

Rating: Explicit (adult sexual content)

Tags: Eden Club/Sex Worker!Connor Dead dove do not eat, undercover!Connor, post-revolution: hostile public opinion, Evil Kamski, Club owner Kamski, All the tragic Hankvin backstory you could ever want, eventual polycule, smut, followed by angst, spanking, edging, fingering, sensation play, Connor is a flirty horny little shit, emotional sex, unresolved feelings, complicated love triangle turned polycule

Summary:

“I don’t care how eager you are, you're eating before we do anything,” Connor shouted from the kitchen before he could say a word and Hank’s mouth dropped in suprise. Even if they had been sexting ALL DAY, he still wasn't used to hearing pointed flirtation out of his android. Well, not his like his property but you know… 

“Oh yeah? What makes you think you're in charge after the sneaky shit you pulled today,” Hank shot back, using his ‘Lieutenant voice’ as Connor has called it over a dozen times now. 

Hank took his time entering the house, extending out this little game. He hung up his coat and gave himself a once over in the front hallway mirror. He looked tired as hell. The bags under his eyes were darkening as the day went on, but he showered yesterday so his hair doesn't look greasy and his beard is only a little overgrown right now. Convinced he looked ‘good enough’, he continued through the entry way, skidding to a hard stop before even a toe could cross the threshold of the kitchen. 

Yup, its official, I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack. 

Because Connor is standing with his back to him in front of the stove, in Hank’s Knights of the Black Death Band Tee from 2027, and nothing else. That was confirmed a second later when Connor reached up to add time on the microwave and Hank could easily make out the matching half moons of the androids bare ass. 

Hank’s hand reached out and slapped the doorway trim to steady himself. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Connor...” he scolded.

Connor turned around then, a huge shit-eating grin on his face as he held out his spatula and blinked up at Hank innocently. He looked down at the borrowed, oversized shirt on his tall lean frame.

“I hope you don’t mind Hank, my clothes are in the washer. I can take it off, if it bothers you.”

Nope. Connor better fucking not. Because if he does that, Hank’s heart will stop. He’s just barely holding it together now. 

“It’s not you wearing it that bothers me,” Hank groans, unable to tear his eyes from the bottom hem of the time-worn shirt, just waiting for the moment Connor moved enough to show him more of that beautiful cock he already got an eyeful of today.  

Connor’s previously flirtaious face was suddenly replaced with worry. 

“I didn’t mean to genuinely upset you Hank, I’m-”

But before Connor could misunderstand Hank further, he was stopping Connor’s apology. 

“You’re not wearing anything under that shirt.” 

It wasn't a question. 

The side of Connor’s face began to raise again in amusement, understanding Hank now.  

“Nope.”

[fcble]

In which Mingeun feels alive again. FEATURING: Yoon Mingeun, Go Hwajung (@necnnights), Neon Nights ensemble WORD COUNT: 7.8k SETTING: November 2020 NOTES: Further consequences and context to Mingeun's scandal collection. Also previously discussed here and here.

When Mingeun gets back to Korea, he discovers he’s banned from the Fable practice room. The rest of his group is finishing up promotions of their fifth mini album. Mingeun steams as he watches the stages and listens to the songs, trying to figure out which of the lines should be his. He even goes as far as to ask Jaeseop the same question. He doesn’t get a clear answer, only something about how they’ll consider it in the future, and so Mingeun is left to sulk and skulk.

He spends two days in the dorms before he’s bored. He can’t stand talking to any of his roommates or friends. Walking past Fable’s debut album poster in the entryway—it hides an unrepaired hole in the drywall—constantly reminds him who he is.

Everything sets him off: Haksu leaves a shirt on the floor of the living room, Eunsu drinks his soy milk without asking, Jaeseop refuses to give him back his key to the practice room.

Mingeun has no choice but to visit only during business hours. It seems like the rest of Fable is against him. He tries the door to the practice room every day. It’s locked every day. Sometimes he sits in Andrew’s studio just to annoy him. He’d do the same to Intak, but he thinks Intak is more likely to kill him for getting on his bad side.

At the end of his first futile week, he’s trying the practice room door handle for fun. The lights are off and he knows it’s locked, but he tries it anyway. Then someone taps him on the shoulder.

He turns around to see a girl a full head shorter than him. She looks familiar, yet he can’t place exactly why. She smiles and says, “It’s so nice to meet you, Mingeun-sunbaenim!”

Mingeun is caught off guard. He’s out of practice from not being an idol for so many months. At any other time, he’d be able to pretend to know her in a way that would make her none the wiser to his slip up. But he doesn’t.

Her face falls slightly. “I’m Qiuyun. From Neon Nights?”

“The band,” Mingeun says, recalling how Taein signed them a few years ago. He met a few of them shortly after, and then heard nothing about them since. He’s been so caught up in his own problems he’s forgotten Fable isn’t the company’s only artist. Their practice room occupies the other side of the corridor, and it’s almost as if he’s never noticed it.

“We’re practicing soon, if you want to listen in,” Qiuyun offers shyly.

“I’d love to,” Mingeun says, remembering his manners.

He follows her to the end of the hall, where the door opens to a cluttered room half the size of Fable’s.

It’s dimly lit, and Qiuyun appears to be the last to arrive.

“You’re late.” This comes from a girl with a guitar in her lap, sitting on the edge of the drum set’s boosted platform. She turns her gaze on Mingeun next. “Who’s this?”

“Mingeun. From Fable,” Qiuyun says in an exasperated tone Mingeun associates with young people explaining pop culture and slang to their parents and grandparents.

His name clearly doesn’t ring a bell to the four other people in the room. Their lack of knowledge is simultaneously reassuring and disappointing. He’s not the only one who doesn’t recall the few times they’ve interacted. But Fable is the company’s flagship group—shouldn’t he be more familiar?

“The liar,” Qiuyun elaborates, and that prompts a few understanding noises. He’s going to be plagued by that for the rest of his life.

She introduces everyone at a rapid fire speed. Mingeun doesn’t bother to tell her he almost knows who they are. The girl with the guitar is Eunbyul, behind the drum set is Hwajung, and off to the side are Yumi—bass guitar resting on the floor beside her—and Eden—empty-handed. Then Qiuyun goes off to tune and set up her own instrument, and Mingeun is left standing alone and out of his element like he’s never felt before.

Hwajung points a drum stick at him. “Do you know any of our music?”

Mingeun, who usually prides himself on knowing everything and anything there is to know about kpop, no matter how obscure the groups or songs are, admits, “No.”

He was unaware they had music.

“I can’t name a single Fable song,” Yumi says. The gaze she casts in his direction makes Mingeun feel like he’s withering away.

“There’s that one with the hanbok outfits,” Eden says. “I can’t remember the name.”

That describes most of Fable’s music.

“‘Gaja,’” Mingeun guesses, because it’s their most popular track.

Eden shakes her head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“I like ‘Round and Round,’” Qiuyun volunteers as she plays through a few scales on her guitar.

That comes as a surprise. It’s one of their b-sides, and an unpopular one, because Mingeun can’t even remember what album it was part of.

“Fangirl later,” Hwajung snaps. “Perform now, for our guest.”

She doesn’t sound happy to have him. Mingeun doesn’t understand why. There’s nothing more he misses than performing. If they asked him to sing and dance, he’d do it, gladly.

“What are we performing, exactly?” Eden asks, arching a brow.

Hwajung takes a minute to think about it. “‘Jealousy?’” she asks in Eunbyul’s direction.

Eunbyul shrugs. “That’s fine.”

Eden steps forward into the center, now holding a wireless microphone. She’s flanked by Qiuyun and Eunbyul on the left, and Yumi on the right.

“So this is the second single off our first album,” Eden says. Mingeun’s head reels. They have an album already? When did this happen? Fable didn’t have one until a few months ago. He should have known.

“It’s called ‘Jealousy,’ but you already knew that.”

Hwajung counts four beats with her drumsticks, and they start. The first part is an upbeat guitar line so low Mingeun swears he can feel it resonate through his chest. Then Eden starts to sing—in English.

He doesn’t know what he expected from their music. Probably something slower, something easy on the ears that you’d hear in a coffee shop, something like chill beats to relax and study to. Then maybe he could tell himself that it makes perfect sense for him to never have heard their music. He didn’t expect this upbeat, guitar-driven track, with Eden making eye contact with him every other line, like she’s peeling away all his fronts and leaving him entirely exposed.

Following the second chorus, Eden steps back and Eunbyul steps forward for a guitar solo. That’s when Mingeun realizes that more than anything, they’re having fun. A deep-seated feeling of jealousy—just like their song—rushes through him. He wants to perform again, even if it’s for an audience of one person.

The song ends, and Mingeun claps politely.

“What do you think?” Qiuyun asks after a few seconds.

“I like it,” Mingeun says. “You sound really good.”

“That’s it?” Hwajung asks, standing up. “That’s all you have to say?”

Something about her reaction reminds Mingeun of himself. It’s a terrifying thought. He pushes it away.

“Why did you decide to write it in English?” he asks to change the subject. He assumes they wrote it. They’re a band after all, not an idol group.

“Eden plays the keyboard,” Hwajung says, “but we don’t use it in all our songs.”

“My English is better than my Japanese,” Eden says with a laugh. “Eunbyul takes care of that, and we’ve decided I can sing some of them in English.”

Japanese. That explains why Mingeun doesn’t know a single song.

Remembering he doesn’t have to lie anymore, he says, “I speak English too. I’m Canadian.”

They’re such simple sentences, but it feels so liberating. His euphoria is crushed immediately when Yumi looks at him and says, “English is one of the most common languages in the world.”

He refuses to let her get to him. So he brushes it off and pretends she didn’t say anything.

That night, Mingeun lies in bed and listens to a fifteen-track behemoth titled INTENTION.

He starts to spend more and more time with them. He checks the Fable room too, multiple times a day, even though he doesn’t relish the idea of being trapped in there with any of his group members. At some point, Jaeseop sends him a polite, but still strongly-worded text, describing how Taein is “extremely upset and disappointed,” which explains why his “hiatus will continue until further consideration.” It also comes with “a strong recommendation to keep out of trouble” and suggests he “uses this time to reflect on himself.”

Mingeun pretends he doesn’t care.

He tries to be the first one to leave the dorms in the morning and the last one to return at night, like he isn’t even there. He takes the trains in circles, blending in with the young adults who are not banned from their workplaces. The city has shifted in barely perceptible ways in the months he was gone. The change of seasons, of course. The quick turnover of small businesses and specialty stores in busy areas. Mingeun missed it all.

When Hwajung texts that she’s at the building, then he heads there as well. She’s always the first to arrive, seemingly propelled by the same drive as he is. Their conversations are sparse. Hwajung will send something like “here” or “on my way” or “almost there.” Mingeun will reply with “ok” or the OK hand sign emoji or maybe a similar sticker as he sways gently on the subway.

She’s working on an album now. She has her own office-turned-studio, the same way Andrew and Intak have theirs, but she prefers sitting or lying down on the ground with her computer and a notebook in front of her drum set. Mingeun sits there too, listening to her complain about her music or Taein or her piece of shit twin brother.

“Taein-nim hates us,” Hwajung says one morning, looking more at her screen than Mingeun.

Mingeun gets that. He’s almost certain Taein hates him too. Not the rest of his group, just him specifically. It’s hard to think otherwise.

“He hates our music too. I—we—can’t promote in Japan forever. I don’t care if he thinks the market there is better for us.”

“You can’t compromise what you write,” Mingeun says, and Hwajung looks up at him in what might be surprise.

Then she says, “You do whatever he asks of you.”

“My only choice was to lie,” he says testily.

“I’m not talking about that,” Hwajung says. “You’re an idol.” She says it like it disgusts her, like it’s the worst insult she could think of.

“So what?” Mingeun asks, entirely unaffected.

“Your job is to do what other people tell you to do and what other people expect you to do without being told.”

“I like it.”

He doesn’t have a better response. If he had somewhere else to go, he would leave.

The arrival of Eunbyul and Yumi—always together—saves him. Or not, because they would probably take Hwajung’s side. More importantly, they take Hwajung’s attention off Mingeun.

It’s routine, the way she spends the morning showing off whatever progress she’s made on her music. Mingeun spends the time sitting off to the side alone, uncomfortably, with very little idea of what they’re talking about. He opens the same three apps on his phone, a constant rotation through Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok. The upside to it all is that it sounds a little different every day, even to his untrained ear. Mingeun is pretty sure Andrew has been working on the same song for his entire life, and he refuses to let anyone listen to it.

Anywhere from a few minutes to a couple of hours of boredom later, Qiuyun arrives and saves Mingeun from his state of crippling boredom. Today, it takes her almost half an hour.

Mingeun isn’t blind to the invisible battle lines in the band. Something separates Hwajung and Eunbyul and Yumi from the other two members, extremely evident in how they cluster together closer and speak quieter when Qiuyun appears. He ignores it because it’s not his problem.

“Today?” Qiuyun asks.

Mingeun shakes his head. A few days ago, he promised to get her a Fable album signed by her bias, Haksu. He made that promise while temporarily forgetting he was avoiding the rest of his group like the plague, as if Haksu doesn’t sleep in the room right next to his.

It’s probably souring her opinion of him, but she must have read some of the news articles about him. They’re all fairly accurate. Mingeun would know, because he’s read all of them. He has little to dispute.

Qiuyun sighs as she sits down next to him. Mingeun knows she’s disappointed. He’d still rather deal with her disappointment than Haksu.

He wishes he had something smart to say about the way Hwajung’s new song sounds. He doesn’t. He has a very lively discussion about the latest EXO album with Qiuyun instead.

Over time, Mingeun listens to every Neon Nights song on Spotify. There are more of them than he thought. There are two singles in Korean with a single song apiece from 2016. Then there’s the Japanese music: the fifteen tracks of INTENTION, two EPs, and a number of singles repeated on their three albums. By the end of it, it’s all starting to blend together for him. Only the earliest songs sound different.

He doesn’t normally text Hwajung—other than their morning conversations, which aren’t even really conversations—but he wants to share his opinion.

I listened to your music, he sends with proper grammar and spelling.

It’s nearly three in the morning, but Hwajung responds almost immediately.

and? don’t leave me in suspense, her message reads.

Mingeun takes a minute to type up his reply. He didn’t think she would reply so quickly. More accurately, he didn’t think at all. He can’t say he thinks every song sounds the same, so he spins it differently.

Your sound is consistent. He knows for certain that he’s lived with Haksu for much too long. Thinly veiled almost insults have always been his forte. What happened between 2016 and 2018?

your ceo signed us, she says, like Taein isn’t now her CEO as well. She doesn’t say anything more, instead asking, what’s your favorite song your group has released?

Knowing she’s never heard a Fable song, he gives her a short list of their most popular songs, title tracks, and a few of their recent b-sides.

i don’t care about popularity, she sends back. i want to know which song you like.

So Mingeun copies and pastes a YouTube link to “Make Me a Different Person,” one of the more popular b-sides from their first mini album.

Hwajung’s typing dots appear and disappear a few times. Mingeun waits with bated breath until he eventually falls asleep.

Later in the morning, he wakes up hours later than he usually does. Hwajung’s usual text is there, unread on his lock screen. There’s nothing about the Fable song, to his annoyance. He all but flies out of bed and his apartment to meet her.

Mingeun flattens his hair in the elevator, using his phone’s front camera as a mirror. Then he walks down the hall and gently pushes the door open. Today, Hwajung is using Eden’s keyboard as a table. She looks up when he enters.

“You’re free tonight,” Hwajung says. It should be a question, but it comes out sounding like a statement.

Mingeun nods.

“Let’s go to a concert.”

“A concert?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Hwajung says, like he’s dumb and has never heard of a concert before in his entire life. “You’d change your mind about our music if you went to a live show.”

He’s doubtful about that. He’s heard their music—one song—live. But it’s not like he has any other plans—he never has any other plans.

“Okay,” he agrees. He sits down next to her on the piano bench. “Did you listen to any of the songs I sent you?”

“Some of them,” she says. “Pop music is so boring.”

She plays a few chords on the keyboard.

“It’s not,” he says. Mingeun is great at arguing. Give him a topic and another person, and they’ll be at each other’s throats in minutes. Something is different with Hwajung. He wants to disagree with her. He does disagree with her. Somehow he’s unable to act on any of it.

“Can you play?” he asks instead, nodding at the instrument in front of them.

Hwajung tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I can play every instrument in this room.”

She says it with a confidence and self-assurance Mingeun envies.

“Can you teach me?” Mingeun asks. He’s not sure where that comes from. He doesn’t think she’d be a better teacher than someone like Andrew, but he’s bored and he isn’t on speaking terms with Andrew right now.

“You don’t know how?” She sounds surprised. “Some musician you are.”

Mingeun is not a musician. He’s never considered himself one, and he probably never will. He’s an idol. A performer and a singer straining for the inhuman standards he’ll die trying to meet. He doesn’t tell her that. He gives her his flattest, most expressionless stare, and says, “No.”

Hwajung groans. “Please tell me you know something about music.”

That stings. He isn’t completely in the dark. “I can read sheet music.”

“Outside of the treble clef?”

“No.”

Hwajung places her left hand on a white key in front of Mingeun. “This is middle C.”

She runs through the keys and the clefs and some scales. Mingeun pays attention, though he notices more than anything else how enthusiastic she is when she teaches. It makes him acutely aware of how much he misses doing what he loves. She answers each of his stupid questions impatiently, but he still gets an understandable answer.

When Mingeun feels as if his brain is bursting at the seams, he stops her. Hwajung looks disappointed.

“Teach me more tomorrow,” he says.

“You’d want that?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Mingeun says. He likes her company. She’s a lot less intimidating now that he’s getting to know her.

“Don’t forget about tonight,” she reminds him.

A few hours later, Mingeun is pressing his ear to his bedroom door, straining to catch any hint of sound. He’s supposed to meet Hwajung in a few minutes. The time ticks away the longer he waits. The problem is that he doesn’t want to talk to or even see any of his roommates. He tells himself it sounds quiet enough outside.

He takes a silent step outside, shutting his door as quietly as possible. Then he slips down the hallway. Light streams out from underneath Haksu’s door—a decent enough sign. He takes a few bold steps into the living room, only to be greeted by Eunsu and Byeonghwi sitting silently on the couch, both of them engaged in their phones.

Mingeun freezes. He wonders if he can sneak by them and out the door without either of them noticing. While lost in his thoughts, something about his presence must alert them to him.

“Mingeun,” Eunsu says, sounding surprised, like he forgot about him. “You’re going out?”

Mingeun straightens up with dignity, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to consider making a break for it past the two of them. “Yes,” he says simply. He tugs at the lapels of his jacket. Isn’t it obvious?

“With who?” Byeonghwi asks, probably because he knows Mingeun has almost no friends.

“Hwajung,” Mingeun says, not caring if they recognize her name or not.

An indescribable look passes between Eunsu and Byeonghwi. A spike of resentment surges through Mingeun. He can’t have been gone long enough to no longer understand their silent communication. He refuses to believe it.

“Only two of you?” Eunsu asks.

“Yes,” Mingeun bites out. “Any other questions, Dad?”

“That sounds like a date, hyung,” Byeonghwi says, almost cautiously.

“It’s not a date,” Mingeun snaps.

They both look surprised at his outburst. He doesn’t know why. He forces his fists to unclench. He isn’t sure when that happened.

“Bye,” he mutters.

Then he sits in the entryway for a few minutes, lacing up his All Stars.

Hwajung doesn’t live far, which is good, because Mingeun is fucking freezing. The late November wind cuts through his jacket and his jeans. He tucks his hands into his pockets and almost runs the few blocks to her apartment building.

When he gets there, she isn’t ready to leave yet. Instead, Yumi leads him up through the building, saying nothing except, “If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you.”

Mingeun believes her.

Eventually, he stands in Hwajung’s kitchen, subjected to the critical eyes of her and Yumi. The room smells faintly of weed.

“He’s passable,” Yumi says. She speaks like he isn’t even there.

Hwajung sits on a bar stool and sips at her drink—soju, presumably, because it’s in a shot glass—through a straw, careful not to smudge her makeup. Next to her, Mingeun feels extremely underdressed. When he stood in his own bedroom, he thought his outfit was acceptable—leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt tucked into dark skinny jeans.

“He’s so plain,” Hwajung says.

That’s how he should be. Mingeun is rarely recognized in public, but if it happened tonight, it’d be disastrous. He’s supposed to still be in Canada. He can already see the headlines in his mind’s eye, can already picture the accusations flung his way if he’s spotted alone with a girl.

“You didn’t tell me what you were wearing,” Mingeun complains. He could have matched Hwajung’s faded Nirvana shirt and baggy pants, complete with its collection of silver chains that pair with all of her accessories, if he was given the chance.

Hwajung dismisses him. “Do you want anything to drink?” she asks, changing the subject. “We have soju, beer, Yumi’s expensive whisky.”

“He is not drinking my Hibiki,” Yumi says darkly.

Mingeun would never dream of it. “I don’t drink.”

They both stare at him.

“You shouldn’t be alive,” Yumi says in a tone so matter of fact that Mingeun would believe her if he wasn’t standing in front of her.

He shrugs.

Hwajung finishes her drink. “Let’s go. See you later, Yumi.”

Hwajung’s manager, Aerin, drives them to the venue. Mingeun sits alone in the backseat of her personal car. He thought they might just take the subway, or maybe call a taxi. Daewoong would never drive Mingeun—or anyone else in Fable—somewhere on his own, much less with a girl.

Aerin doesn’t seem to mind. Hwajung’s phone connects automatically to the car speakers, music only intermittently interrupted by Siri providing them with directions. It keeps Mingeun from having to speak, at the very least.

They’re dropped off in front of the darkest, dingiest bar Mingeun has ever seen in his life. He’s not quite sure where in Seoul they are.

“Thank you so much, unnie!” Hwajung gushes as they step outside. She trips on the curb almost immediately.

He should probably try to catch her or help her or something. He watches her stumble forward a few steps until she regains her balance instead. Then he’s subjected to her dark glare after she recovers.

“It’s these boots,” Hwajung complains. They add about five centimeters to her height. She still stands almost a full head shorter than Mingeun.

The inside of the bar is just as dark and dingy as he thought it would be. It takes him a few minutes to adjust to the darkness. The main focal point is a dimly lit stage, where a small crowd has already gathered in front. The floor slopes gently toward it.

Hwajung seems to be extremely well-adjusted. She grabs Mingeun’s hand and tugs him towards the side.

“I need a picture for my Instagram,” she says—no, demands.

Mingeun complies. He’s handing her phone back when she pulls him in again.

“We have to take one together.”

The thought never occurred to him. This isn’t the type of photo he can post on Twitter—unless he wants to be further eviscerated for sharing a couple pose four-cut.

Hwajung stands on her tiptoes, teetering from side to side. He wraps one arm around her shoulder to steady her, and that’s when she takes the picture.

“I won’t post it,” she says, as if she’s read his mind. “I’m a celebrity too.”

Mingeun decides to trust her.

The show starts. His first impression is that it’s loud. So loud, he can feel it in his chest. The crowd surges around them with each song. Hwajung clings to his right arm so they’re not separated, other arm high in the air, bouncing to the beat of each song. She knows every word to every song. Mingeun doesn’t even know the name of the band.

The lead singer seems to do more screaming than singing. It’s entirely unintelligible, and yet he can’t help but be caught up in it all. At one point, he has to take his jacket off. He’s grateful he’s wearing white. At another point, the singer gestures for the crowd to form an empty circle.

Hwajung pulls him away. “We’re not going in there.”

When the next song starts—somehow even louder and faster than anything Mingeun’s heard yet, he cranes his neck to see what’s going on. He can’t quite comprehend the wild, thrashing movements of that part of the crowd.

In between sets, she finally relinquishes his arm. Mingeun feels his circulation resume.

“Do you see what I mean now?” she asks, eyes bright, bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Your band doesn’t sound like this,” he says.

“Not yet,” she says. She pulls a lip tint out of her bag and starts touching up her makeup, even though she looks fine.

He’s not quite sure what to make of that. “I think I understand.”

Mingeun would have gotten here eventually, regardless of the genre or the musician. He rarely gets to see a performance from the audience’s perspective. It’s electrifying, to feel not just the energy from the band, but from the people around him.

“I knew you would.” Hwajung beams up at him.

Two more bands perform after that. Mingeun does get it, even though he thinks all three of them sound somewhat similar to each other. The differences come mostly in how much screaming there is in each set.

Aerin picks them up again after the show. The sweat on his shirt freezes against his back. Mingeun puts his jacket back on. It doesn’t do much.

“I’m cold,” Hwajung complains on the short dash to the car. Her breath puffs out with each word.

“Me too,” Mingeun agrees, wrapping his jacket tighter around him.

In the car, he rubs his hands together directly in front of the air vents. Between the weather and Hwajung’s weight on his arm for a few hours, it’s a miracle he can feel his fingers.

Aerin drops him off first. His hands freeze over again as he immediately starts texting Hwajung.

Mingeun runs into Eunsu again in the living room. This time, he doesn’t care, breezing dismissively past him. He sends his text to Hwajung. When can we go again?

Mingeun never goes home for Christmas. The very thought makes him nauseous. He’s spent four in Korea so far—one with his extended family, two with Eunsu, and last year’s with Andrew. This year, as the holidays approach, he realizes he has no plans. He’s capable of having conversations with Eunsu again, but he doesn’t enjoy the lengthy train rides or Eunsu’s small town that somehow counts as a city. He understands why Eunsu couldn’t live there.

He ticks off the other members in his head. Jaeseop is an immediate no because Taein will be there. Andrew is flying home. Byeonghwi and Intak live too far away. Haksu is—Mingeun doesn’t want to spend the holidays with him.

He begins to anticipate a sad and lonely week in the dorms, by himself. That is, until the morning he lets it slip in front of Hwajung. Mingeun wants to take back his words, or better yet, curl up into a ball and die.

But Hwajung says, “Spend it with me.” Her cheeks flush slightly more pink than her blush.

“And my family,” she adds quickly. “They won’t mind.”

“I don’t want to bother you—” Mingeun starts to say.

“You won’t,” Hwajung says firmly, and that’s it on that.

Mingeun ends his self-imposed vow of almost silence with his group for good and spends the next few days assuring them he’ll be fine and he can take care of himself. He doesn’t tell them what his plans are.

He spends his time shopping for a gift instead, before quickly realizing he has no idea what Hwajung’s interests are outside of music and her band. Does she have other interests? He pauses in his research, fingers stilling in a texting position over his phone screen. Does he have other interests outside of being an idol and Fable? Not really. That’s probably what makes them such good… Mingeun isn’t quite sure how to categorize their relationship. Somewhere past work acquaintances, for sure. They don’t talk about anything other than music—work—but he’s confident they could.

He thinks about it for a few more minutes, and ends up buying her a notebook with music staffs in place of lines.

A few days later, Hwajung picks him up in a car.

“You can drive?” Mingeun asks, slack-jawed as he stands on the sidewalk. He holds a supermarket plastic bag of mujigae-tteok in his left hand and his phone in his right. Hwajung’s gift, packed neatly in its gift bag, dangles from his right wrist. He hadn’t recognized her at first, until she rolled down her window and honked at him.

“Yes,” Hwajung says out the window. “Get in the fucking car.”

Mingeun gets in the fucking car.

She gives him a cursory glance. “You don’t have to bring anything.”

He’s much too well-mannered to visit someone’s home and not bring food. He starts to waffle out a response, but Hwajung floors the gas and he holds onto the inside door handle for dear life.

As far as Mingeun can tell, she’s not a good driver. He doesn’t know how to drive, but he doesn’t think it involves cutting into lanes and expecting other cars to move, or taking turns so fast he slides from side to side in his seat. He hears his mujigae-tteok fall over in the back seat almost as soon as she departs from the curb.

A Day6 CD blares over the car speakers—one of The Book of Us ones. It’s a happy medium between their respective music tastes. Mingeun can’t fully appreciate it when it seems like Hwajung is one bad turn away from an accident.

“Before we get there,” she says, seemingly oblivious to his terror, “I want to apologize for everything Sungjae is going to say.”

“He’s that bad?” Mingeun asks. His throat is so dry it almost hurts.

Hwajung nods emphatically. The car jerks to the right before she corrects it. “He hates idols more than I do. I think that’s all he knows about you.”

“He can read about me online,” Mingeun grumbles.

He’s never told Hwajung this, but he’s done his own research on Neon Nights. He knows Sungjae—her piece of shit twin brother—used to be part of the band. He’s never asked any of the current members what happened.

“He probably has,” Hwajung says. This time, she turns to look at Mingeun. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Can you look at the road?” he asks. He’s proud of himself for not yelling it.

“We’re almost there,” she says soothingly, taking one more breakneck turn onto a narrow residential street.

She turns into a driveway a few moments later. Mingeun finally relinquishes his grip on the door. It takes him a little more time to calm his racing heart. His legs are numb as he steps outside.

Hwajung’s home is a not-quite sprawling single-story house. As soon as he steps inside—right behind Hwajung—he’s almost overwhelmed by the smell of food. The indistinct sounds of a TV drift from somewhere deeper within the house.

A young man approximately his age appears like an apparition. Mingeun, still shaken from the car ride, almost jumps. This must be Sungjae. He bears a passing resemblance to Hwajung.

He gives the two of them a baleful glance. “So that’s your boyfriend.”

Mingeun feels his cheeks flush. “We’re not dating,” he and Hwajung say at the same time. Her words are spoken much more forcefully than his.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know who he is.”

“Hwajung! Don’t argue with your brother. Come and cook dinner,” a female voice, presumably her mother, calls.

Sungjae gives Hwajung a shit-eating grin.

She sighs. “You never tell Sungjae to cook,” she yells back. She takes both the plastic supermarket bag and her gift from Mingeun. “You’ll have to put up with him for a bit.”

Her words are accompanied with a grimace.

“We’ll be best friends by dinner time,” Sungjae says. Mingeun does not share that sentiment.

And that’s how he finds himself sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the Go family’s couch. The plastic cover crinkles every time he shifts a few centimeters. A drama is playing on the TV, but neither Mingeun nor Sungjae are paying attention.

“What has my sister told you about me?” Sungjae asks. He sits more comfortably than Mingeun, which makes sense, because it’s his home.

“Nothing much,” Mingeun says, calm and impassive. He doesn’t like Sungjae. Something about his mannerisms reminds Mingeun of a shark. Or maybe an eel.

They don’t have anything else in common except Hwajung. He doesn’t want to talk about her so much when she isn’t there to hear it.

“Why did you leave the band?” he asks, purely out of the desire to fill the silence.

Sungjae’s expression grows cold. “Why does that matter to you?”

Mingeun shrugs, secretly delighted with the rise he’s getting out of Sungjae. “Curiosity.”

“You’re an idol. You don’t know the first thing about what we went through or what it takes to be a real musician.”

He wonders where this came from. It’s far from the worst insult he’s ever heard. He knows he’s not a musician. Maybe Sungjae needed an excuse to insult him. Mingeun’s heard all of this before from Hwajung. The twins are alike, even if she tries to deny it. Besides that, he’d like to think he knows something or other about hardship and music. He knows for a fact that Sungjae never moved across the world as a teenager for a dream he had only the smallest chance of achieving. He doubts Sungjae ever agreed to lie about who he was as part of his career.

Mingeun shrugs, devoid of other responses that would piss off Sungjae even more.

Hwajung returns from her kitchen exile to stony silence. The couch cover crackles as she sits next to Mingeun. “Made a new friend?” she asks.

“Not at all,” he says cheerfully.

Over dinner, Mingeun talks about himself with practiced ease to Hwajung’s parents. He’s good at talking about what he does and why—he has to be. He hopes it isn’t coming off as too rehearsed, even though it is. He talks about where he’s from and how he got here and what his parents do and on and on and on, until it begins to feel more like an interrogation.

The only question that isn’t normally asked of idols comes from Hwajung’s father, who asks, “How did you meet Hwajung?”

Hwajung slams her chopsticks down on the side of her plate. “We’re coworkers. We met at work.”

Her statement is largely ignored.

“She’s never had an interest in boys before. It’s nice to see,” her mother says pleasantly. “When will you get a girlfriend, Sungjae?”

Mingeun picks at his food, feeling like he shouldn’t be part of this conversation at all. He wants to eat and show his appreciation to Hwajung’s family for hosting him. The samgyeopsal tastes like ash in his mouth. He’s certain the twins never developed anything close to his fucked up relationship with food as they pursued music.

The rest of dinner—and dessert—are similarly borderline uncomfortable affairs. His mujigae-tteok offering is well-received, at least.

When it’s finally over, Hwajung drives Mingeun back to his apartment in silence, because Sungjae sits in the backseat. Neither of them want the other person there. Mingeun had pretended he didn’t hear any of the arguing that went on between their family. Hwajung insisted she could drive back alone. Her parents disagreed.

Mingeun wishes they lived closer to each other. The ride feels longer than it did before, even when she drives no slower than fifteen kilometers per hour over the speed limit. He notices Sungjae doesn’t have the same death grip on the door handle.

“Sorry about Sungjae and my parents,” Hwajung says, like Sungjae isn’t in the backseat. “I usually only bring the other band members over. They were excited to meet you.”

“Which is why I think you’re a couple. You act like it too,” Sungjae says. He sounds almost upset. Mingeun has no idea why.

“Shut the fuck up,” she says in retaliation.

Mingeun rifles through Hwajung’s CD collection. In the very back of the case are two Neon Nights CDs. He picks one at random—first EP FIRST SIGHT—and inserts it into the car. He turns the volume up as their characteristic bass lines thump over the speakers.

Sungjae’s groan is barely audible. “You’ve ruined our band.”

“I don’t want to hear you,” Hwajung calls back. “It’s my fucking band.” She grins at Mingeun. It takes everything in him to not tell her to focus on the road.

They only listen to two songs before they arrive at Mingeun’s apartment building. He’s grateful to stand on solid ground again.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says as the car idles. “I had a good time.”

It’s dark, but he thinks he sees Hwajung blush, which means she probably didn’t catch his lie. Her voice is slightly higher than normal as she wishes him a good night.

“Listen to this,” Hwajung says. It sounds like an order. She holds her headphones with the ear cups flipped out, offering the right side to Mingeun.

He’s surprised. She’s never encouraged him to listen to her music like this before.

It’s their first day back at work in the new year. Mingeun is free to be a member of Fable again—his practice room ban was lifted—but it’s become so routine to spend his mornings with Hwajung. He didn’t even ask Jaeseop for the key yet.

He takes the offered side of her headphones, sitting closer to her. The program on her computer screen means nothing to him. It’s a meaningless array of colors and lines. The only thing he recognizes are the piano keys down the left side of her screen.

The music begins to play. The track is loud and fast—as expected of everything she writes. Her sound is growing on him. He needs better descriptions for it other than loud and fast. It might not be something he chooses to listen to, but it doesn’t make him feel like his ears are bleeding.

It comes to an abrupt stop, and Mingeun realizes he’d like to hear more of it. Or maybe it’s because she left off right before a drop.

Hwajung looks at him expectantly. Mingeun chooses his words very, very carefully. “I like the bass in the intro and the build-up in the pre-chorus.”

“Is that what you really think?” She looks him right in the eye, and that’s when he realizes just how close they are to each other.

He can’t back down, so he says, “Yeah, it is.” He’s not intimidated by her anymore.

Then the door opens to reveal Eunbyul and Yumi. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. They work here too. It takes only a second for Mingeun to process the shocked expressions on their faces and the way Eunbyul stops in the middle of a sentence.

Hwajung slams her laptop lid shut, and Mingeun drops his side of the headphones. He mutters something incoherent about needing to use the restroom—he doesn’t even know what he’s saying—and rushes past the two of them out the door.

He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to lower his heart rate to a normal BPM. The only people he has to worry about seeing in here are his group members. Mingeun locks himself in a stall anyway.

It shouldn’t be so embarrassing, but Mingeun replays the moment over and over in his head. The shocked expressions on Eunbyul and Yumi’s faces. Sitting right next to Hwajung—so close to Hwajung—in those blissful moments right before disaster.

Mingeun groans and closes the lid of the toilet seat so he can sit down in despair. He can’t show his face in there ever again. He’s not sure what he had with them, but he knows he’s ruined it.

When a sufficient number of minutes have passed for him to recover from the initial mortification, he steadies himself to step outside. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he’ll find out along the way.

Yumi corners him right outside the bathroom. For a short second, Mingeun thinks he’s about to die. If looks could kill, he would be dead by her gaze many, many times over in the past few months.

“You fucking idiot,” she hisses instead. “She likes you.”

Mingeun finds it hard to believe that anyone would like him like that.

“She does?” he asks in a daze.

“You spend hours alone together every morning. You met her parents. Are you blind or stupid?”

“Oh,” Mingeun says stupidly.

“You’re the guy. Ask her out already.”

Yumi turns away, stalking down the hall. Mingeun goes back to the bathroom to do a Google search for how to tell if a girl likes you.

If the search results are anything to go by, Yumi is correct. Mingeun hates being wrong. Since he doesn’t dare to show his face to the band again, he goes to the one person he thinks would know what to do in his situation.

To his disappointment, Jaeseop is not the only person in the practice room. Haksu and Andrew are there too. The room smells like a strange combination of stale, dusty air and Haksu’s instant ramen, currently rotating in the microwave. Andrew stands on a chair, opening the row of windows that reach the ceiling.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask for your key,” Jaeseop says.

“I have something else to ask,” Mingeun says. Before they can think he’s changed, he adds, “I also want my key back.”

He starts pacing around the room. Jaeseop digs through his bag and retrieves the key. He tosses it to Mingeun, who watches the silver ring arc through the air before he catches it.

“I don’t know if I want to hear what you’re going to ask,” Jaeseop says. Mingeun can hear the trepidation in his voice. It stings a little. He’s not that untrustworthy.

He cushions Jaeseop for the blow. “Since you have the most relationship experience, what do you do if a girl likes you?”

His words are followed by silence, broken only by the beeping of the microwave.

Jaeseop sighs. “Please don’t tell me you plan on doing anything except telling her no.”

There’s too many negatives in that sentence. Mingeun is confused. He shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”

Andrew sits down on his chair. The last two windows remain closed. “Did she tell you that?”

“No,” Mingeun admits, “but I’m pretty sure of it. Why does Jaeseop-hyung get to have a girlfriend?”

“That was a different situation,” Jaeseop says.

“Jaeseop-hyung doesn’t cause problems like you do,” Haksu says. Mingeun glares at him. He refuses to take advice from the guy sitting cross-legged on the floor using his plastic ramen bowl cover as a soup spoon.

No one’s on his side. Mingeun is disappointed, but not too surprised.

“You know you’re not supposed to date, right?” Haksu asks.

Mingeun doesn’t respond. He does know it. It’s so much easier to say than to do. And it’s even easier for Haksu to say it—because he’s never been in a relationship.

“Is it mutual? Do you like her?” Jaeseop asks.

Mingeun doesn’t answer that either. Jaeseop seems to almost understand. He wishes it was just the two of them having this conversation. Without any outside influence, he could show Jaeseop this isn’t a bad idea. He does like Hwajung. He wants to move past this weird limbo of somewhere between and around coworkers and friends.

“You’re the last person I expected to want a relationship,” Andrew says. Then he seems to remember Haksu is also in the room. “Second to last. Isn’t being an idol more important to you?”

Mingeun can’t remember the last time he was this disillusioned by idol life. “No one will know,” he says. His secret-keeping in public record isn’t great. All he needs is a second chance. He can do better.

No one says anything in response. He can see the way all three of them think he shouldn’t be trusted. They’re too nice to say it to his face. Or so he thought.

“You were caught in a lie once,” Haksu says. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Mingeun has had more than enough. He texts Hwajung and asks if she can meet him somewhere. She responds immediately, volunteering her shared studio. He’s never been there before.

He ensures he has the key to Fable’s room, and excuses himself from whatever his group members are doing.

Unfortunately, he only has to walk across the hallway. Hwajung is there already, door propped open with a guitar case. He can’t tell if there’s actually a guitar in there or not. He knocks on the open door anyway to announce his arrival.

Hwajung sits on her desk. “Does this have anything to do with you running away to the bathroom this morning?”

Mingeun sits next to her. He has little tact, less shame, and absolutely no game. He doesn’t even hear what she says. “Do you wanna go out? With me?”

“Yumi told you to do this.” Her response is matter of fact.

He can’t deny it. “Yes. But if I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’d love to,” she says. She wraps her arms around his neck, leaning against him. Mingeun knows she can feel the way his heartbeat triples.

His phone vibrates with a text.

I can hear you across the hall. Hope you’re better at lying, Haksu’s message says.

Mingeun leaves him on read. Nothing he says could possibly dampen his spirits.

[byjillianmaria]

dead darlings tag

Tagged by @sarandipitywrites!! check out their dead darling here.

Tagging @stories-by-rie @cwritesfiction @lady-redshield-writes @lullabyes22-blog @roselinbooks-official @incandescent-creativity aaaaand whoever else wants to do this!

There's Magic Between Us went through a LOT of changes before it got published. Eden grew a whole different backstory, a subplot about a missing uncle got axed, a subplot about a magic treasure got added, and Lydia's knowledge of Fae Nonsense was severely more limited!

As such, a lot got left on the cutting room floor. I'm not too precious about any of it, but I was always a little sad to lose this scene where Lydia plays guitar for Eden. It doesn't really make sense to have in the final draft — Eden became the kind of character who wouldn't have time for this distraction, and Lydia became the kind of character who wouldn't have the patience to learn a whole song, anyway — but it was such a fun little romance trope to have while it lasted.

I also included some developer's notes, for funsies.

“What’s that on your back?” she asks. “Oh!” I run my free hand along the strap across my waist. (Note from present-day Jillian: I think this was meant to say shoulder or chest? That's a first draft for you.) “That’s my guitar. I just brought it for fun.” “Do you play?” “A little! I can show you when we sit down.” Sure, I only know the basics. But I know a few songs—enough to woo people who want to be wooed, I’m pretty sure. Or at least fill a few quiet moments between friends. I could be down for either, depending on how this plays out. “That would be nice.” Eden points ahead of her. The trees widen out into a clearing with a large pond. A few willow trees dot the shore, long branches reaching down. It’s one of those that she points to. “Under that tree is one of my favorite spots to sit. I bet it would make a good picnic.” “Dude, totally.” It looks like something out of a postcard. In the shade of the willow branches, the warm summer air cools just a little. It’s a comfortable place to lay out the picnic blanket. “You’re right, there is a lot of cool stuff here.” Eden smiles, smoothing the burgundy skirt of her button-down dress over her legs as she sits. “I’m glad you think so.” “Yeah! Thanks for showing it to me. If you’re ever in Chicago, I’ll be sure to return the favor.” Eden looks down at her lap, hair falling over her forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I’m not sure if it’s bashfulness that changes the air between us or something else, but suddenly the silence sits heavier and less comfortable. I rush to correct it. “I’ve got lots of sandwich making stuff in here, and candy and things. You can pick what you want.” I swing the guitar around into my lap. “Lunch and a show!” This makes Eden smile again, which makes me happy. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I flap a hand at her. “I can eat in a second. I promised music!” “I guess you did,” Eden says, a laugh clinging to the edge of her voice. And so I play for her, while she rummages through the basket and puts together a sandwich. I’m not a great guitarist or a great singer, either, but I can carry a tune well enough that it isn’t unpleasant to listen to. Besides, the trick to doing anything is to do it with confidence. I play one of my favorite songs to perform, a love song by a straight guy. (Note from present day Jillian: what is she playing? I have no idea. I have a playlist of music she likes, but there's few men and even fewer acoustic songs.) I very purposefully don’t change the pronouns when it comes to talking about the girl he fell for. Look, between the pansexual pride bracelet on my wrist and the constant flirting, no one’s ever accused me of being subtle. Eden doesn’t react to the pronoun use, either positively or negatively. Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I just know that I get a little excited whenever someone does something gay, even if I’m not interested in them. It’s like finding someone wearing a shirt for a band you like, or something. A moment of connection and understanding, however brief. I won’t be shattered if Eden doesn’t like girls, of course. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know.

[kieriositykilled]

The other day I realized I hadn't done a top ten albums of the year list for the past 7 years, and this felt like the perfect year to remedy that. There was so much good music that came out this year, sitting back and taking a look at all of it was a bit overwhelming. I'm sure there's something I missed, but i started with 58 albums, narrowed that down to 16 using a rating system, and from those I found my top 10. And so without further ado, I present my list of the top 10 albums of 2023.

10. Nothing But Thieves-Dead Club City With a great alt/indie rock vibe, this album will keep a smile on your face from start to finish. From smooth tunes reminiscent of the early 80s, to harder deep bass sounds of the 2010s, this album is sure to bring some joy to your eardrums.

my top 3 songs-Welcome To The DCC, Do You Love Me Yet?, Foreign Language

9. Boys Like Girls-Sunday At Foxwoods So although I was aware of their existence, I am not someone who really listened to Boys Like Girls until like....3 months ago. But that means I approached this album with no judgement and no expectations. A fresh perspective. And I really like this album. The songs are modern, peppy, and fun, but they dance around the edge of angst. So even if, like me, you were previously unfamiliar with this band, I think you'd find it easily enjoyable.

my top 3 songs-The Outside, Blood and Sugar, Physical

8. Sleep Token-Take Me Back To Eden I think Sleep Token has been on a lot of people's music radars this year, it was this way that I originally found them. Imagine my surprise when I learned they are a 'progressive metal' band. I haven't listened to a ton of their previous work, but aside from one song on this album (that I always skip) the music is deep, melodic, and beautiful. The lead singer has a haunting and soothing tone, I would definitely recommend giving them a listen (just remember to skip song #5)

my top 3 songs-DYWTYLM, Ascensionism, Aqua Regia

7. FIZZ-The Secret To Life FIZZ is a group made up of 4 seperately successful solo artists (including my personal favorite, Dodie Clark) who have joined together to create a fabulous sound that harkens to movie soundtracks of the 90s, with a dash of flower-power and a sprinkle of queer angst. FIZZ is definitely bringing something different to the floor that I don't hear in a lot of modern bands. A bright sparkling sound that grabs your attention and

my top 3 songs-The Grand Finale, Close One, You Me Lonely

6. Niall Horan-The Show Ok, I do have to say, this album is no Heartbreak Weather (the best Niall album imo) but it's still a great album. I love listening to Niall because he feels like one of those people who will still be doing shows when he's 60 and these songs will be considered classics. These songs make me feel like it's 1974, I'm dancing in my living room, and this album is of course playing on vinyl. Everyone from your little brother to your grandma will enjoy this (even if they won't admit it).

my top 3 songs-Save My Life, Heaven, Must Be Love

5. The Rose-Dual Sadly I missed their show this year, but I always always adore a Rose album. Woosung's vocals are top tier, the blend of genres, and for those of you too scared to listen to Korean music, no worries, all the songs are in English. One of my favorite things about The Rose is the way they sound on their albums is the way they sound in person, and after listening to them for a few years I see so much growth in their music and it's so good.

my top 3 songs-Back To Me, Alive, Wonder

4. No Frills Twins-Aquarius Not surprised if none of you know who this is, but this awesome Australian duo has been on my radar for close to 12 years now. This is actually their first full album and it's about time! Their unique sound and vocals are like nothing you're hearing in mainstream music today or yesterday either. If you need a full emotional escape, this is the album for you.

my top 3 songs-Golden, Heartbreak City, Soft Porn

3. Maisie Peters-The Good Witch What an adorable human being! British singer/songwriter Maisie Peters should be your new favorite, because she certainly is mine. With an ethereal voice and thought-provoking song lyrics, you truly feel like she is telling you a story. I love how each songs has a lovely spritely feeling and Maisie's sweet voice provides you a delightful experience. Recommend if you want some joy in your music.

my top 3 songs-The Good Witch, BSC, History of Man

2. Hozier-Unreal Unearth Oh what can I say about Hozier that hasn't already been said. This album is a theraputic escape. The music is deep and orchestral and gathers you in a warm dark place. I absolutely love that the songs are inspired by Dante's Inferno, music inspired by literature are some of my favorites. I love combining two forms of art. I feel like I don't need to tell you to listen to this album, because you're smart, you've done it. But if you haven't, we all need to cry in car at some point.

my top 3 songs-I Carrion, Unknown/Nth, Damage Gets Done

Honorable mentions-Carly Rae Jepsen "The Loveliest Time", Raye "21st Century Blues", Jungkook "Golden" , Ren "Sick Boi", Dreamfone "postMANIC" and finally...

1.Morgan Clae-Dreamboy If you're on TikTok you may have seen Morgan who went a bit viral for her audition of Poseidon in the EPIC musical. If you haven't, let me tell you, this album was a religious experience. I was stunned to the edge of stunning. Morgan's voice, music, and presence, holds such a beautiful power and she finds such perfect ways to express herself. Not often does an album truly leave me speechless. I implore you to listen to this artist.

my top 3 songs: The Break: Injury, The Hope, The Dream