#everything has become too polished just bc it can. i think we should have a year where every studio can only produce one show

[nerice]

not directly related to lrb but also been. on my mind: this comment to a ANN article on recent mappa drama w/ the jjks ep quality & like

YEAH. like i super enjoyed the sukuna beatdowns two episodes back 2 back but esp the mahoraga battle as epic as it was it was just. too much. nothing except maybe two or three shots of it (the streetlight screen one + nge pose...) have stayed in my memory. + the general issue of shibuya fights being completely untethered from any stakes which,, again might just be culling game poisoning my perception bc binging the manga all of this fucked but it definitely doesn't work on a week to week presentation esp not if you are aware of the culling game disaster lurking on the horizon. anwy the point. compare that to frieren which (unfair ik. but) every frame a painting and fight scenes are so incredibly well choreographed but also short enough 2 stand out in an episode. i rly rly rly think the visual noise comment hits on smth that has been bothering me with these big spectacle episodes & it's not like they are something new per se. there is always the climactic battle of the arc that you can look forward to going hard as fuck & maybe that is simply not compatible with high octane arcs like shibuya or fkcin. csm as a whole bc lord knows once we hit quanxi/hell devil there will not be a calm frame on the screen for weeks. but the solution is not 2 burn animators into suicide and have all non-battle content (understandably) look like it was drawn on a typewriter a week prior and after. animation has just become too polished and ngl idk how the frieren production goes behind the scenes. we all remember wonder egg priority. contrasting jjks mappa with frieren (madhouse) is just thematically funny given their history & the jjks visual noise comment stands whether or not it is ethically produced (which it isn't) so like. all these animators are being put thru the wringer just to produce sakuga for sakuga's sake bc mappa has decided to multitrack draft every single major shounen release & then some absolutely stoned out of their mind on hubris and as good as some of it looks. it isn't even all that good!!!!!!!!!!! lol

[plan-d-to-i]

(google translate again, yeah)

(I forgot to thank you for the last answer, I really didn't know that the drama used the music of my compatriot, it was a pleasant surprise for me)

I don't know if anyone has asked you this before, but do you think JC was good with WWX as a kid?

I mean not just their childhood, but the time of their training in Gusu.

I really love JC, and I understand perfectly well that he is the most dick in character, but I love him precisely during my studies at Gusu, I can not give any arguments that then JC was directly GOOD to WWX, but he is clearly cared a little about him and even ... worried? at least that moment after the punishment where JC helped WWX get to the room...

Yay - I'm so happy to hear about Stravinsky :)

Hahah loving jc as the dick that he is is the way to do it! go for it. :) also, sorry this was so delayed I wanted to reread the Cloud Recesses arc so it would be fresh in my mind before answering.

In terms of jc the Cloud Recesses arc is perhaps the most 'mellow' we see him aside from the Lotus Pod Extra but for me it's still impossible to find him a worthwhile person. I can already see the faults in his character that I know will only get worse as he grows older. Canonically I don't see how he would have any friends studying in the Cloud Recesses if he didn't come as a package deal w Wei Wuxian. I mean I doubt jiang cheng would have any friends without WWX period. In fact jiang cheng doesn't make any friends over the course of 13 years. He's also unable to find a wife bc of his temperament and behavior...

What we can glean about their relationship in the Cloud Recesses arc (and even the Lotus Pod Extra) is that any time WWX gets a kind word or understanding from someone, jiang cheng scoffs at it. Any time someone shits on WWX, jc is there to agree, to relish the idea of WWX being punished, and shit on him some more. He would be an immensely exhausting person to be around. He doesnt believe in WWX's ideas and ingenuity, (as NHS does for example), he doesn't believe WWX is hurt, he always assumes the worst of him, he doesn't believe LWJ might like WWX. The only thing he ever seems to believe is that WWX will dishonor YunmengJiang and that WWX should be punished. So for a kid who supposedly wants his father's approval so badly he instead constantly acts like his mother's mouthpiece/minion. He reprimands WWX like he's trying to become Madam Yu 2.0. I see jc stans all the time being like oh he had to keep WWX in check bc WWX was such a lOOooose canon, for the good of the Clan!! lol listen JFM didn't give a f...about WWX's behavior (in his letter to LQR) why are you so concerned? JFM would have preferred for jc to try & save his peers in the Xuanwu cave or at least to understand why that was the correct course of action rather than for him to just sit in front of the class in the Cloud Recesses and tell WWX off for giving LQR as good as he got, while actually still breaking the rules himself but eschewing punishment.

salt up here, quotes below :

Even when Nie Huaisang picks up on the fact that WWX is being treated unfairly by LQR, jc dismisses it and piles on WWX instead.

Nie Huaisang said, “Old Man Lan really seems like he’s coming down especially harshly on you. Every time he reprimands someone, it’s always you.” Jiang Cheng grunted. “He deserves it. What kind of answer was that? He can get away with saying that sort of nonsense at home, but he had the nerve to say it to Lan Qiren’s face. He was practically asking for the old man to kill him!”

But does WWX get away with ANYTHING in Lotus Pier? When we know he is punished constantly for EVERYTHING? This is jiang cheng fully being his mother's mouth piece. It's not something WWX would get away with, it's something jc knows JFM wouldn't mind. Which is why he's so pissed off. Which begs the question if JFM would not be upset with WWX's behavior why does jc need to criticize him? Again :

A dark expression shadowed Jiang Cheng’s face, and his voice was filled with anger. “Why are you so proud of yourself? What is there to be proud of?! Is being told to get out some amazing accomplishment? You’re making our entire clan lose face!”

and his glee at the idea that WWX will be punished leaves a bad taste in one's mouth considering how WWX was perpetually punished in Lotus Pier by jiang cheng's mother for... existing.

Jiang Cheng smiled grimly. “Now that you’ve thoroughly offended both Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren, you’re basically dead tomorrow. No one’s going to clean up your corpse either.”

and again

Without the old one, only the young one remained. This would be easy to deal with! Wei Wuxian rolled off the bed and laughed while putting on his boots. “Heaven’s charmed clouds are blessing me with shade.” Jiang Cheng was beside him polishing his sword with loving care when he decided to spill cold water over Wei Wuxian’s head. “Just wait until he gets back. You can’t escape punishment.”

Where others like NHS see value in WWX's thoughts

Nie Huaisang thought for a while. “Actually, I thought what you said was very interesting,” he said, not entirely able to hide his envy and yearning.

jc is always dismissive of WWX's ideas. These are inventions that WWX realizes. Demonic cultivation in the first conversation and The Spirit-Attraction Flag and The Compass of Evil in the second:

“Enough,” Jiang Cheng warned. “Whatever nonsense you spout, you better not head down that sort of dark road.”

-

Changing the topic, Wei Wuxian said, “If only there was something like fishing bait that could draw the water ghosts in. Or, something that could point in the direction they’re hiding, like a compass, that sort of thing.”

“Lower your head and watch the water,” Jiang Cheng said. “You’re letting your fantasies run wild again. Concentrate on looking for water ghosts like you’re supposed to.”

“Hey, mounting swords and flying was also only a fantasy once!” Wei Wuxian said.

He's also a hypocrite. Because even though he berates WWX for misbehaving, he himself breaks the rules. He drinks, he even goads WWX into buying liquor, the only difference is that he doesn't get punished for it, and he doesn't feel like coming forward and getting punished for it :

Naturally, Jiang Cheng was too embarrassed to talk about what Wei Wuxian had been up to. After all, all of them had egged him on to go and buy alcohol, and they all deserved to be punished as well. He could only speak vaguely. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s not that bad! He can walk. Wei Wuxian, why haven’t you gotten off yet?”

It's no wonder WWX is so impressed by LWJ's integrity in spite of his social status, when he's clearly used to the other dynamic :

“Lan Zhan, I really admire you,” Wei Wuxian said sincerely. “After I told you that you had to punish yourself too, you actually did it. You didn’t let yourself off at all. I can’t argue against that.”

A dynamic which is shown repeating in the Lotus Pod Extra where WWX is the only one to get punished for sunbathing, and which repeats here when Wei Wuxian here stops jiang cheng from confronting Zixuan over YanLi's honor (and jc's) and does it himself.

Zixuan :“Why don’t you ask what about her could make me satisfied?” he said in return.

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng rose. Wei Wuxian pushed him away and stepped between them, smiling coldly. “You think you’re very satisfactory? As though you have the right to be so picky!”

Zixuan: “If she’s unhappy, then let her break off the engagement! I certainly don’t cherish your wonderful disciple-sister. If you cherish her so much, why don’t you take it up with your father? Doesn’t he love you more than his own son?”

After hearing the last sentence, Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and Wei Wuxian was no longer able to contain his own fury. He flew at Jin Zixuan, his fist raised.

WWX takes the punishment alone. Same way he offers to do when he hurts himself falling from a tree because jc threatened him with dogs. meanwhile jc is gleeful to see him being punished.

[Wei Wuxian] was kneeling on the stretch of pebble road to which Lan Qiren had assigned him when Jiang Cheng walked over from afar and mocked him. “You’re kneeling so obediently.”

“It’s not like you don’t know I have to do this all the time.” Wei Wuxian’s voice filled with schadenfreude. “But this Jin Zixuan guy, there’s no way he hasn’t been pampered and spoiled rotten since birth. No one’s ever forced him to kneel, I’m sure of it. If he doesn’t wind up crying for mommy and daddy today, I’m not named Wei.”....

Wei Wuxian "...It’s a good thing you didn’t do anything.”

“I was going to. If you hadn’t pushed me away, the other side of Jin Zixuan’s face would be hideous too.”

“Stop it. His face is uglier for being lopsided."

WWX is happy to have spared jc from getting into trouble but jc makes the whole thing about himself anyway (like everything else ever) and is upset JFM would rush over for WWX - in his mind. Even though JFM clearly had to rush over to meet with Jin Guangshan not to coddle WWX in any way.

"Jiang Fengmian had never rushed to another clan in less than a day because of him. Regardless of whether what happened was big or small, or good or bad." Never

WWX on the other hand tries to be observant of jc's feelings and reassure him & distract him from his moods :

When Wei Wuxian saw Jiang Cheng’s melancholy expression, he thought he was still upset with what Jin Zixuan said. “You should leave. You don’t need to keep me company any longer. If Lan Wangji comes again, he’ll catch you. If you have time, you should find Jin Zixuan and watch his pitiful kneeling.”

Later in the book after nearly dying in the Xuanwu cave WWX leaves his sick bed to run after jc and comfort him after his mother's rant, even though WWX had to listen to his parents (and himself) being slandered by YZY. jc doesn't spare any thoughts for how other people might be feeling or suffering. His entire perception of the world is centered around himself. To him even WWX's greatest fear doesn't generate empathy, only amusement or later on a form of torture.

From that point onward, they made trouble everywhere together, and if they encountered a dog, Jiang Cheng would always chase it away for him, then enjoy a peal of derisive, unbridled laughter at Wei Wuxian’s expense beneath whichever tree the boy had leapt atop.

he grew up on the streets, often having to fight for food with vicious dogs. After several bites and chases, he gradually became extremely scared of all dogs, no matter the size. Jiang Cheng laughed at him because of this quite a lot of times.

This brings me to the last point. jc's resentment of WWX's interest in Lan Zhan, or in a serious friendship outside of him. I see so many ppl say that bc WWX fought he was kicked out of the Cloud Recesses early... but was he?

Jiang Cheng was somewhat taken aback. “Lan Wangji? What was he doing here? He still has the nerve to come see you again?”

“Yeah, I think his bravery is laudable if he still has the nerve to come see me. His uncle probably told him to check on me and see if I was kneeling properly.”

Jiang Cheng’s instincts were sending him ominous signals. “So were you kneeling properly?”

“I was then,” Wei Wuxian replied. “But I waited for him to walk away a bit, then took a tree branch, lowered my head, and dug out a hole in the dirt near me. It’s the pile right by your foot—there are ant tunnels there. It took me so much effort to find them. Anyway, I waited for him to turn back and see my shoulders shaking. He had to have thought I was crying, so he came back and asked. You should have seen his face when he caught sight of the ant tunnels!

“…” Jiang Cheng said, “Why don’t you just get the hell out and go back to Yunmeng? I bet he never wants to see you again.”

Thus, that evening, Wei Wuxian packed up his things, got the hell out, and went back to Yunmeng with Jiang Fengmian.

Repeatedly throught his stay in the Cloud Recesses even while NHS was observing that LWJ's behavior around WWX was strange and unique, jc was telling WWX he is hated and bothersome. When WWX wanted to apologize to LWJ jc is completely dismissive of it :

“He hates me already? I was thinking of apologizing to him,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Oh, so you want to apologize now? It’s too late!” Jiang Cheng said derisively. “He’s exactly like his uncle. He thinks you’ve been wicked ever since you were an embryo, so it’s beneath his dignity to pay you any attention.”

Later on when WWX mentioned wanting to invite LWJ to Lotus Pier jc categorically says no.

“Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

BONUS

jc also always doubts WWX. He suspects him immediately of wrongdoings. He doesn't believe that getting hit with the discipline ruler in Cloud Recesses actually hurt him until LXC confirms that WWX might take more than a few days to heal. He doesn't understand WWX is in actual trouble from the Waterborne abyss and assumes he's fooling around luckily Lan Zhan is there to rescue him:

The disciple’s lower body had already been swallowed by the black whirlpool. It spun faster and faster, and he continued to sink deeper and deeper, as though something hidden beneath the water was pulling down on his legs.

Mounted on Sandu, Jiang Cheng had risen calmly until he was about sixty meters above the whirlpool before he looked down. Filled with displeasure at what he saw, he shouted and dove down. “What are you up to now?!”

The suction force inside Lake Biling grew ever stronger. Wei Wuxian’s sword was optimized for agility, and consequently, its strength happened to fall just short, and they were nearly pulled to the surface of the lake. Wei Wuxian steadied himself and held on to Su She with both hands.

“Someone help! If I can’t pull him up soon, I’ll have to let go!” he shouted.

Suddenly, the back of Wei Wuxian’s collar tightened, and his body was lifted into the air. He twisted his neck and saw Lan Wangji holding him up with one hand.

He maintains this same mindset when he tries to whip LWJ and WWX as they're attempting to leave Lotus Pier after the ancestral hall confrontation when WWX passes out.

Is jc evil in the Cloud Recesses ? No. He's just an annoying, basic, disagreeable asshole who doesn't bring anything positive to someone like WWX. People like jc become obsessed with kind, outgoing, generous people, people who don't set boundaries on what they give and what others take in their friendships. Even though they're dependent on them for their social interactions, because who else would socialize with them willingly, they resent them in equal measure, but at the same time they wouldn't be drawn to another selfish, self centered piece of shit person like themselves.

On a personal note, even Cloud Recesses jiang cheng is someone I would exclude from any personal friend group. Friendship with him is adding a minefield of jealousies and snide comments to every interaction. Things that then others will need to compensate around because he won't compromise or empathize w issues outside of his own concerns.

Translation source : x

[watchmegetobsessed]

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing. 

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

[notnctu]

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series 

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !!  details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him.  warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k  synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach  taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ ; @lovelycharm05​ ; @watermelonxes​ ; @jaehyunsjasmine​ ; @mjlkau​​ <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking. 

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:  

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.  

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.  

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic. 

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

[ulubionywuja]

Hi i had to copy-paste this bc it doesnt work <3

You posted 2113 times in 2021.

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Your Top Posts in 2021

5.

Got a Pet Shop of Horrors tattoo. I love it.

4.

More dumb stuff

3.

🖤 Non-obvious tips for babybats / new goths 🖤

Hello! My blog is a small one, but I still hope someone will find this helpful. So. There are plenty of “tips for babybats” videos on youtube and now probably tiktok, but they’re always basically the same things: research music, thrift, don’t be obnoxious, find a local scene. Easy. I’ve been a part of this goth thing since 2012 and observed some stuff. So here’s my little post about do-s and don’t-s. If you’re a new goth and don’t agree with me, that’s fine too.

Firstly, I don’t think babybats are really defined by “listening to Evanescence or Manson, shopping at Hot Topic and writing questionable poetry”; well, this is just one half of this group in my opinion. The second one is new goths who just learned what goth actually is and make it their entire personality, look, lifestyle, everything. I don’t think it’s good to just throw your non-goth hobbies and interests away for the sake of being ubergoth. In fact, most goths who have been in the community for a while will probably find it laughable, and nobody wants to be laughed at. I installed tiktok recently and EVERY goth video I’ve seen was either “hehe I’m so goth my fav band is mgła” or “Hey call me Siouxsie!!!”. Althrough I must admit I don’t spend a lot of time on tiktok. Anyways, if you like rap, don’t stop listening to rap; if your favorite color is lime green, add it to your outfits. It’s fine. Only people with no working braincells will have problems with that. And! Don’t shriek at e-girls, it’s so stupid and peak babybat.

Secondly, I often hear that babybats should “get familiar with goth subtypes, like victorian, perky or trad and pick one that suits them most”. Well, you can do that, if you want to be a super mainstream goth who defines their style by one thing only. (Goth has it’s own mainstream, yes. When I started it was focused on romantic and nu goth, now I feel like it’s trad and hippie goth.) Obviously you can take inspirations from major goth icons like Robert Smith, Rozz Williams, Siouxsie and Dave Vanian - they all have or had great styles - but don’t become an impersonator. I personally have been a fan of visual kei since forever and many of my style icons come from this scene, and also Japanese goth / post punk. If you’re dead set on trad goth, google pictures of batcave kids, they were really creative, and maybe pictures from the 80s scenes from around the globe, countries like Russia, Turkey and Japan had really big goth communities.

The third thing - goth is a communtiy of people, and it has seen better times. The scene has a little crisis and many clubs are closing (it was happening before covid too), so don’t gatekeep. Just don’t. It’s killing the scene. I’ve seen a drawing made by a teenage goth here on tumblr, depicting a trad “““grufti”“““ stabbing an e-girl with a knife. This is so embarassing, oh my god. I left a very very critical comment under that post. If you’re a new goth, don’t even try to “educate” e-girls, emos, whatever, because these people are not trying to “steal” goth or be a part of our community - they’re doing their own thing. If one of them actually wants to be a goth, they will get there by themselves, it’s one google search away from them, and after all, gatekeeping will stop newcomers from actively keeping the scene alive.

The fourth one - goth trends. They’re quite dumb. Don’t follow them, I would say. Goth influencers often participate in them, as they recieve PR from goth clothing companies, thus, they’re promoting them to their viewiers. Goth trends are based on mainstream trends - in 2015 there were cringey “witchy n bitchy” slogan tees and skinny jeans with studs, now we’re seeing a lot of layering, strega inspirations, techwear-ish items and Y2K influences. And it’s just not worth it. It’s so overpriced and after all, fast fashion, so it will be considered tacky (or fall apart) soon. (I owned a Punk Rave coat once, it was tragic.) It’s a different story if you really like a trend and maybe see yourself keeping the item regardless of what’s “in” - for me it’s wide leg pants and layered strega skirts. The swooshier, the better. From the 2010s, I still own a felt wide brim hat and a lot of maroon things. I love maroon and no one will disrespect my vampire red color in my house. (It’s so dumb, why is an entire color considered cheugy? Mainstream, you ok?) Also don’t buy polyester, it just looks sad. The wrong type of sad.

The final thing. Very, very important. Goth has a big crossover with the fetish and BDSM community, thus we see a lot of harnesses, latex clothing, ridiculous heels and also nudity. If you’re a babybat, you’re probably a minor, so please protect yourself, because this scene is sadly full of weird creeps. I’m not saying you should wear a black potato sack, but maybe don’t wear a latex lingerie set, fishnets and stripper heels to any events and don’t post riskey pictures of yourself. It’s not “empowerment”, it’s dangerous. If you want to be a sex worker, wait until your an adult and REALLY think about it before starting.

AND WEAR YOUR MASK.

Have fun and remember, babybat isn’t a bad word for more experienced goths. Just a part of the community, an incredibly important one. Don’t be offended if someone calls you a babybat or a newbie, it’s most likely not with bad intent.

2.

Creating questionable au-s is my passion

Your #1 post of 2021

Prince of Wiśniowiec, king of vampire drip

Thanks for being part of

the Tumblr community ❤️

See you in 2022!

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi!  jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic.  so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks.  unless people really like it.  then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t.  In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time.  It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died.  And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though.  Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions.  She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee.  Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore.  Like at all.

The world kept spinning.  Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup.  Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class.  Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom.  Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine.  Julie watches her with slight awe.  Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled.  Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong.  You haven’t been around music properly in what?  A year?  What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment.  Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run.  Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight.  Very relaxed and casual vibes.  I could pick you up from your apartment and take you.  We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.”  Julie hesitates.  It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears. 

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look. 

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.” 

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.” 

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago.  The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside.  Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.  

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks.  Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones.  Allison was right, unsurprisingly.  If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom.  Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back.  She’s taking a step.  She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto.  The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom.  It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised?  Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg.  You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area.  Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling.  The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath.  The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well.  Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls.  Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back.  The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people.  It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died.  Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them?  It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months.  She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her.  Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.  

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock.  Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you.  I can play.  If you need it.”  Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.”  Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head.  He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits.  The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow.  “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.  

“No, I offered.  Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone.  Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes.  It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach.  Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close.  He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see?  And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.”  Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy.  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none.  We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says.  Julie isn’t sure.  She really isn’t.  In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second.  Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again.  Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight.  The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up.  She’s supposed to start this song.  This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier.  She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth. 

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

[angelhummel]

So I saw a post about the eras of the Glee fandom and I am in the Resurgence Era. I began watching the show back in May 2020. I know people like to make fun of the show a lot, and I totally understand, but I unironically enjoy this show. Well maybe not a majority of S4-S6, but I like the music, the comedy, the heartfelt moments, the zany characters. But I can also see how even in the early seasons, which people hail as Glee's Peak, how it could have been better. (1/?)

With the exception of a few song changes and polishing clunky dialogue, there isn't much I would change in S1 or S2 (although I would cut down on the cheating plotlines in S2). S3 should have been about the club finally being unified with almost no infighting, and they shouldn't have tried to cram so many PSAs into one season AND Santana's coming out story should have had more focus than it got (and it should have been handled more sensitively period) But the music in S3 still rocked.

In S4-S6 I can see almost exactly when people began dropping from the fandom and I understand why. S4 through S5 (especially S5) seemed to be flailing for some sense of direction with the characters and juggled too many nonsensical (and often tone deaf) storylines for it to be coherent. S6 saved it from ending disastrously, but by then it was too late to truly save the show. Not to mention Ryan Murphy's unprofessionalism leading to actor drama and just butchered story lines.

But I can see how the show could progressed coherently and satisfyingly. In S3-S4 the New Directions should have become the champions for the underdogs. In S4 with most of them graduating, they should have had the theme of branching out into the big world beyond their small, closeminded town in Ohio. S5 could have been them getting too big for their britches and then failing because of arrogance. Then S6, they go back to Lima as a humbling reminder of where they started.

In S6, with the allotted 22 episodes they should have had, they could have started up the Glee club again, and be reminded why they joined in the first place. It makes me sad that bad writing and Ryan Murphy's unprofessionalism tanked a show that had all the groundwork for being absolutely amazing. Glee is many things: wacky, musical, bizarre, heartfelt, frustrating, insensitive, sometimes all those things in the same episode, but when it was good, there was nothing else like it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I mean that last plot is basically what they tried to do but just with Rachel while everyone puttered around for ten episodes before they wrapped all the pointless crap up. I mean I was never a fan of them having to go back to Ohio in the final season just bc they’d already done it multiple times by then and it’s like can we please see something new?? All I wanted for the last two seasons was all my faves and a few guest stars in NY lmao. It’s still an ensemble show with like 7-10 characters and some good guest stars, right?? 

Also like I’ve sort of said this before lately but. S2 is a hot damn mess. If you didn’t have Kurt or Klaine and you didn’t have Santana or Brittana?? That season would be nothing lol. Maybe it’s just me but idk all the het nonsense that season really drags it down for me. And s3 is fucking awful but that’s what so many people cite as their favorite. Which to me it just proves that people talking about “it was really good at first then sharply declined when everyone graduated” is complete bullshit and it’s just people looking at the seasons they actually watched through rose colored glasses and just saying it got 100% when they stopped being interested in it. 

And I swear I’m not trying to just shit on everything you’re saying lmao but again people saying s3 had the best music of all but like. I dunno I think DWS had the best music and was the best actual tribute ep. Michael also had really good performances. Then there’s maybe five other performances I’d put in the iconic tier lol. Idk I think it’s overrated all around and I just hate s3 so damn much (: But yes it does have some good music

But anyway your last paragraph. If I could rewrite Glee with 20/20 hindsight I would have the s4 and s6 newbies switch. So the new and interesting characters for s6 are introduced earlier and actually bring something new to the table. And then in s6 we get the wannabe copies of the oldies so that when all the alums are there, they pick out the person that reminds them most of their high school selves to mentor them. So like Thanksgiving but for like half the season or whatever lol. And it’s like sweet and nostalgic for them to sort of see themselves at the start of their friendship again and to give everyone the advice they wished they knew back in the day. Stuff like that. Could’ve been cute

And idk I don’t agree with everyone else saying s5 sucked lol. I mean obviously one of the contributing factors to the strangeness and sloppiness was one of their main characters dying and having to write around that. And poor Sam having to fill Finn’s crap shoes and become Finn 2.0 and I think you can see that best with the nurse Penny stuff. But idk I mean there’s twerking and puppets which are nonsensical and only one of those things comes off as tone deaf to me. I don’t think it’s as bad as people wanna say. But after the boringness of them coming back to Ohio for the glee club in the middle of the season?? And then my favorite characters are in NY after that?? Those are some of my absolute favorite episodes. I mean I’m in my top 40 glee ranking episodes and I’ve got 5 eps just from the back half of season five to go. I love it. It’s some of my favorite Glee

Although I still agree that s1 is the best. And that’s with the show focusing mainly on Mr. Schue, Finchel, and Quick. And I still adore it as much as I do. Season one really is something special. I mean just about every season is like watching a different show. And no one is going to agree on what they like best or why. But idk I’m just glad everyone in the fandom has something to hold onto. 

[prettyallfriends]

Pretty Rhythm: My☆Deco Rainbow Wedding Chapter 13+14

(I'm weirdly motivated to just churn out a tonne of chapters tonight. I may get 2 more out of the way... Anyway, in chapter 13 we get some Rinne lore and general sadness. In chapter 14 we basically get confirmation that Ayami is in love with Chae-kyung. I got whiplash between these two chapters)

Chapter 13: The Runway Needs a Prism Heart

Mia: Aaaand here we are!!

Penguin-sensei: You insufferable airhead, dragging people along without thinking!!

Mia: People?? What are you saying~? You’re a penguin!

Penguin-sensei: Oh yeah, I forgot for a second! Yes, I am indeed a member of birdkind. I am, and always have been a penguin~ Penpen!... Wait, what are you making me say!?!?

Mia: Woah, now, don’t get mad. Anyways, what’s Rinne doing around here? (It’s a snowy tree ice rink type area)

Penguin-sensei: Geez! Rinne is entering a fashion show here today.

Mia: A fashion show!? Wow, that’s the perfect job for her, huh? I wonder what coord and what persona she’ll be wearing. That’s it! Why don’t you enter the fashion show too, Player?

Penguin-sensei: It’s not that easy to enter!

Mia: Huh really... Then, I have a question for you, Player… Does Rinne really enjoy being all alone?

Choice: She’s probably lonely / I think she’s fine

Mia: You really think so? No matter how much power you have, you’re bound to get lonely if you’re by yourself all the time. And she changes her personality so much, she might forget her true self. Let’s find her and ask her ourselves.

…

Mia: Hm, we still haven’t found her, huh? --??

Rinne: Seven-hued metamorphosis… Change!!! Pop!!! Yaaaay!☆ Today I’m gonna be super poppy and energetic! And I’m gonna work super hard for my fashion show☆

Mia: She’s changed her personality again!? So now she’s pop, huh… Wait a minute, I can’t just space out! Let’s go, Player!! Kaboom!! Excuse us!!

Rinne: Gah! You surprised me~ Oh? What’s wrong, Player?? Ah, I’ve got it! You want to enter the fashion show, right?

Picock: You fiends! What art you doing here!?

Rinne: It looks like Player wants to enter the fashion show too. It's fine, right? Whoo, okay☆

Picock: Poppycock!! Rinne, thou art entering the fashion show alone! Thou art more than enough! You must adorn yourself in the sexy coord next!!

Rinne: Seven-hued metamorphosis… Change!!! Sexy!!! Ehehe♡ Wow, I’m so touched that you came just to visit little ol’ me, Player-chan♡

Mia: And now she’s acting all sexy!?

Picock: As Rinne possess the powers of every variety of coord, she alone is enough to showcase them all. Next… is this coord! Rinne,--

Mia: That’s enough!!

Rinne: Hm…?

Mia: We don’t want to talk to the personas that Rinne uses with her coords… We came here to talk to the real Rinne!!

Rinne: The… real me??

Mia: Rinne, your said that Player has a wonderful heart, right? They use their own original My☆Deco coords. And you both want the Rainbow Wedding. If that’s the case, then fight Player as your true self!

Rinne: Stop it!!! Ugh… the power of the coords is… (she goes back to her normal outfit)

Picock: Rinne’s seven-hued metamorphosis has… reverted!?

Rinne: I… can’t do it.

Mia: Why not!?

Picock: You insolent fool! Thou art going awfully far… In that case, Player, you are to serve as Rinne’s opponent in this fashion show! Fashion a coord that suits your stage, and show us the power of My☆Deco!

Mia: Hell yeah! Player, you need to use your My☆Deco power to open Rinne’s heart!

(prism show yanno the drill)

Mia: Woohoo!!! Your coord and stage were perfect for each other! You didn’t have to change your persona to be able to perform a great prism show!

Picock: How can this be…? How canst thou perform so well without a seven-hued metamorphosis!?

Mia: It’s because Player is in tune with their own heart. My☆Deco is all about decorating your own heart, after all! Changing your persona to match your coord all the time, meanwhile? That's really sad. Rinne needs to realise that.

Rinne: Your own heart… The real me… Aaaaaaah!!!

Mia: Rinne!? Are you okay??

Rinne: I don’t get it… I don’t get it…

Mia: What don’t you get?

Rinne: I… I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything!!

Mia: Huh…?

Picock: Rinne, do not push yourself too hard whilst trying to recover your memories. There is no need to hurry. Once thou can acquire the Rainbow Wedding…

Rinne: ...I’ll remember everything I’ve forgotten?

Picock: Of course.

Rinne: That’s a relief…

Picock: It would be better if you two left for today. Rinne needs to rest.

Mia: But… Won’t she just keep doing her seven-hued metamorphosis? I mean, at this rate she’ll lose more and more of her true self!

Rinne: It’s fine… Don’t bully them, Picock.

Mia: Rinne…?

Rinne: I’m empty. But if I play all these characters… I feel like someone will tell me it’s okay to exist… After all… I’m…

Picock: Rinne, thou must rest.

Rinna: Right…

Picock: Player. If thou wishes to worry Rinne, the least you can do is polish your My☆Deco power first. The child who was chosen by the Rainbow Charm to wield the power of My☆Deco… Perhaps, you might… No, now is not the time for this.

Mia: For what? Now I have to know!!

Picock: Well then, farewell for now.

Mia: They left… Hmm. It feels like we’ve made a step in the direction of Rinne’s secret… But at the same time, her secrets keep piling up… What did Rinne forget? Agh!!! I! Need! To! Know!!!

(sad music still playing. ATARASII HAIR STYLE DE ASOBERU YO!!!! ATARASII KYOKU DE ASOBERU YO!!!!! Ljdkhjkasfj meganee realy knows how to ruin a moment. Anyway im sure it will be a great relief to learn that ive finally gotten my dream hairstyle and hair colour unlocked)

Chapter 14: Writing a Memomemo About the Secret of the Coord

Mia: You seem pretty down, huh Player? I’m pretty concerned about Rinne too, she seemed really sad… When I look at someone making a sad face, I end up feeling sad too… Ah... There’s a cat outside the window. Cats sure are great~ Not like they have anything to worry about. That’s it! Let’s become cats and just purr all day! Now, you do it too, Player! Purr, meow~~~

Ayami: STAND UP, GIIIIIRLS!!!

Mia: AHH!! Stand-up? Or is it stand up?

Ayami: That’s right. Stand up, girls. Memomemomemomemo…

Mia: What the hell, Ayami! I was in the middle of lazing around like a cat!

Ayami: Ah! Cats… A black cat!!! Cats sure are great… And they never have anything to worry about…

Mia: I literally said the exact same thing!

Ayami: Ah… I also want to become a cat.

Mia: Why? Did something happen, Ayami?

Ayami: Um…

Mia: That reminds me, you wanted to participate in Stand Up Girls, right?

Ayami: That’s right. I’m going to form a team with Chae-kyung-san and enter next time.

Mia: That’s cool. You’ll be able to pull off a very celebrity show then!

Ayami: Yes… And I’m happy about that, I’m really looking forward to it… but we decided that I’m going to be in charge of designing our coords.

Mia: But you’re great at designing, right?

Ayami: I really love Chae-kyung, but when I think of the kinds of coords she usually wears… Well, they’re the cream of the crop! They’re out of my league! ...which is what I’ve been thinking as I write memo upon memo upon memo upon…

Mia: Wow… Your notebook's completely full! You won’t thinking of any new ideas like this.

Ayami: I know that. But whenever I think about it… Ugh. Player-san, do your have any good ideas?

Choice: Try to get some inspiration from something around here? / I’ve got nothing

Ayami: Something around here… That’s actually really good advice! Hm…? What are you looking at, Player-san? Oh, Mr. Cat. Look, he’s sleeping with his tummy out, aww. He’s so cute, all relaxed like that. ...Ah!

Mia: Did you think of something!?

Ayami: As expected of Player-san! You wanted me to get inspiration from the cat, didn’t you? I need to learn how to relax my heart just like this cat!

Mia: Is… is that right!?

Ayami: I’ll take a memomemo! I’ve thought of a design! Player-san, could you do a show in the coord I’ve designed? I’ve taken a memomemo of the cute, meowing Black Cat Coord! Hm, that’s right… Powder Snow Park is close by, let’s go there!

(prism show. My nyas?)

Ayami: Amazing! That was a very meowmeow show! Chae-kyung-san will definitely like the coord too…

Chae-kyung: Ayami!

Ayami: Chae-kyung-san! You were watching too?

Chae-kyung: That was a very celebrity show. Ayami and Player are both amazing! With this coord, we’re sure to get a celebrally good result in Stand Up Girls.

Ayami: Ehehe… I’m so happy to hear that. It’s all thanks to Player-san. Carefully thinking things through is important, but freely thinking things through is important too! I’ll make a memomemo of that!

Mia: Wow, Player, you’ve really grown, huh! You gave Ayami design advice, you’re so cool! Your My☆Deco power has to have powered up too, right?

Ayami: According to my memos, by powering up your My☆Deco power… you’ll be able to decorate your prism stones with frames!

Chae-kyung: Being able to create your own celebrity original coords is wonderful!

Ayami: You should try making a lot of new coords with your new ability to add frames. That’s it! If you’re okay with it, why not use this Black Cat Part for your My☆Deco?

Chae-kyung: You’ll definitely be able to make a celebrally cute coord!

Mia: Now that your My☆Deco has powered up, you’ll be able to enjoy prism shows a lot more! The Gold Spiral Cup is coming up soon, too. Work hard up until then!

Chae-kyung: We’re also going to work celebrally hard at the Gold Spiral Cup!

Ayami: Player-san, thank you so much!

(naur bc why did google drive keep autocorrecting chae-kyung to chase-kyung. bitch who tf is chase-kyung. maybe chase-kyung is her mechas car transformation idk)

[jksangelic]

defanged (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: smut, fluff, werewolf!au, a/b/o au, pwp

↳ pairing: mates werewolf!reader x werewolf/alpha!hoseok

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, dom themes, breathplay, knotting, rough play, impregnation kink, overall general ”werewolf” smut themes, personality change, probably an uncomfortable amount of squishy mate talk

↳ summary:  hoseok is an easy mate—as such that there are moments you question if he’s just human. so when his sudden spike of aggression emerges, you do your best to keep this unknown man at bay. or, alternatively: young alpha hoseok has started teething and he’s being a bratty puppy about it.

↳ note: ok so if you were with me a few months ago you would know that this is actually a collab fic with a couple other writers but life happens and here we are now *cowboy emoji*. this is really important to me bc they’re such *clench fist* great people and i’m happy i received such an opportunity to collab with them (’: pls make sure to rb/like/visit our collab masterlist if you want to be in-the-know of when they post their parts!

also i wanted to play around with the humorous sides of what werewolves might go thru (-: so, like, short attention spans and hating loud noises and typical big dog stuff. with the teething, just imagine that their growth stages are prolonged because they’re, idk, maybe immortal or something lol

(i…… i’m not used to writing fantasy can u tell)

((gif isn’t mine + his side profile ;-;))

↳ words: 9k+

You could hear every miniscule thread snap and unwind from themselves, a simple task such as painting your nails becoming less relaxing than it should be.

“Hobi,” you mumble once. You swipe down your thumb again, carmine red smoothing over brightly and with utmost delicacy. He doesn’t listen, another squeaking grind of his teeth against the material of his sweatshirt followed by a snapsnap.

“Hobi,” you say a little louder, flinching from annoyance and staining your cuticle with the polish. You curse your discontents, waiting for him to look at you but only meeting a turned neck and eyes still glued to his phone, an I’m listening portrayed by his demeanor but not really meaning it.

He chews hard on the neckline, a solid rip completely tearing several inches down his chest, eyes widening and attention finally caught when his chest is exposed hilariously.

“Hoseok!” you yell, slamming the closed bottle onto the coffee table and meeting his startled eyes, “I just bought that for you!”

He hopes to play it off and shrugs as you swipe it from his teeth, untwined fibers poking out sadly. You smooth your thumbs over the poor fabric, the third victim of his recent gnashing problem.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you ask sadly, a little more bummed about the beautiful sweatshirt than you should be.

He responds simply, “My gums itch.”

You roll your eyes at his childlike excuse, the full-sized man sitting cross-legged and distractedly in his corner of the couch with his phone paused on some game with horrendously annoying music. Was he really your alpha?

“Why don’t you do us some good and go hunting.” You offer, a lame excuse to get Hoseok out of your hair for a bit. It’s what you deserve. He rolls over with a harrumph, shoulder now bare from the growing tear in his clothing. It made you giggle slightly.

“I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me,” he deadpans, body static-still and stubborn more than ever.

Your breath fans his skin as you slither next to him, “I’m sorry, baby. Are you really hurting? Why don’t you go to the dentist?”

Hoseok pouts, taptaptapping away at his screen instead of looking at you, “I don’t want to go to the dentist. They just itch.” Even now, he licks over the burning sensation of his gums, clenching and grinding his teeth to ease the feeling in any way. You can hear the collisions of his canines, your own tingling uncomfortably from the sound.

You shake your head. “Maybe you’re teething,” you suggest in all seriousness. It wasn’t impossible; your kind’s lifespan certainly placing such life stages at seemingly unusual times. In any case, it would simply mean his canines were most likely growing longer and stronger.

He scoffs as if you’ve insulted him, “I’m well over my teething days, Y/N. They just itc—"

“Say that one more time and I’ll neuter you,” you huff. When he lacks a kinder response, you push yourself off the couch to tidy your bedroom instead. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to have a serious conversation with you at the moment, and despite its rarity, you could use your space.

Your mate was in no way irritable; in fact, Hoseok was one of the sunniest alpha’s you’ve ever encountered. His kindness differentiated him from others, bearing his mark (and one day, hopefully, his pups) certainly deeming you quite lucky. He was a soft lover above all, never making you feel as a subordinate or anything of the like.

Perhaps it’s why you two were clashing heads recently, his personality completely contradictory from his true self. Never does he ignore you, let alone snap at you.

Folding your clothes (and purposefully leaving his items in a pile on his side of the bed in spite), you exhale heavily and leave for the living room once again, disregarding your now smeared manicure.

Hoseok beams at the shoe aisle, producing more light than whatever was already lit in the store. Due to his “issue”, stopping by the mall was a given. Two more of his shirts and even one of your necklaces mangled and chewed up like he was the Tasmanian Devil.

Petting his hair fondly, you give him a nuzzle to his cheek, “I’ll be in the next store over, puppy. Come meet me when you’re done.” He nods happily, wide-frame glasses bobbing atop his pretty nose.

You beeline for the department store in hopes of purchasing a few extra things for yourself before Hoseok sniffs you out. It’s immediate heaven when you sift through the dresses, picking a few out and dangling them happily on your fingers before bouncing from rack to rack. By the time you reach the dressing rooms, your arm aches from the pile you’ve accumulated.

“Hey there, you can go ahead and take that first stall right there,” a man directs, tall and intimidating and rather fucking handsome, you think. “My name’s Jaebum. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll go grab it for you.”

You bat your lashes and mouth a Thanks before waltzing into your room, appreciating his kindness perhaps a little too much. Despite your complex and absolute relationship status, it didn’t hurt to peek at what’s on display. It was only right!

You try on more than what you even remembered picking out, velvets and satins and the softest of cottons all hugging you warmly with every piece, a bittersweet happiness when everything seemed to fit you perfectly. The last dress, though, is your only hiccup. Material skin-tight and ending just a little above your ankles; you harrumph. Almost a perfect streak.

Dress still on (at least it zipped), you peek through the door and spot handsome Bum at the front. “Psst, um, do you mind getting me a couple more sizes in this? I think it was near the wall to the right.”

He grins and nods, almost grateful of the fact that you asked him to do so. Why was he even in this section? Should it concern you?

You watch as he leaves, back muscles showcased quite lavishly in his pristinely pressed suit.

Should it be more concerning that it didn’t?

You take a moment to look at the dress once more, smoothing over the velvet that bunched snugly at your waist and checking out your own ass. The fabric might rip if you sneeze too hard but you look pretty damn splendid.

“Found a few more and got you another color as well,” Jaebum says upon return. You almost snap your neck away from the mirror, hoping he didn’t see you ogling your bum. What a speedy fellow.

You politely open the door wider and reach for the hangers, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Jaebum doesn’t fully hand it to you though, briefly but noticeably skimming over your body, “I think that size is cute on you too. You have a really beautiful figure.”

Maybe it should concern you. You chuckle awkwardly and look elsewhere. Please just give me my dresses, you almost say, now self-conscious in your skin.

“It’s even better when she’s naked. I would know,” Hoseok near growls, appearing out of thin air. He swipes the hangers from behind Jaebum, who is surprised beyond all comprehension of the word, and pushes you back into the room. You’ve never seen him look so enraged, face serious and twitching as if he would shift at any given moment.

“Th-There aren’t allowed to be more than one person in a—,” Jaebum nervously starts from the other side before the door is slammed on his nose.

You didn’t even see Jaebum’s reaction, nor do you ponder it when Hoseok drops your beautiful dresses and thrusts your back against the mirror with his hand to your neck, deliberately making you yelp loud enough for others to hear. You recoil as he bares his fangs, sharp and taunting, threatening to devour you whole and you know this isn’t your Hobi.

He doesn’t get the chance for whatever else he had in store when pure vehemence engulfs you, daring to stand your ground with a low guttural snarl and shoving him off. Your strength is nothing to snicker at, his shoulders nearly hitting the other wall despite his stature.

“What’s wrong with you?” you didn’t even care if everyone in the damn store could hear you, “Don’t you dare touch me!”

Regret instantly arises in his eyes, his hands reaching out to comfort you in any way but hesitant in the warning. He would rather die than hurt you, he was sorry, he was so sorry.

Your body can feel his sorrow and want, itching to touch him in any way but you push it down. The little she-wolf in you whimpers as you struggle out of the dress and leave him alone in the stall, begging for you to go back and forgive him.

Jaebum stands, bewildered, outside of the rooms. He sure did rue the moment he ever made advances on you. Not a word is spoken as you pass by and exit the store.

It doesn’t make it any easier when Hoseok follows you closely. “Baby, I’m sorry. Please.”

“You were going to shift because of some stupid sales clerk! You could’ve gotten us in some deep shit with the order,” you scold, “We’re going home. Right now.” This was a double-edged sword, you didn’t even get to purchase anything. Though your mood is far too foul to continue.

“But I didn’t! No one saw anything. I just lost my cool for a second, I promise. I know better.” Even Hoseok strains to keep up your pace, car already in view and goddamn you walk fast.

“Do you? Are you seriously justifying your actions? You need to uphold your responsibilities, Hoseok. You’re not new to this.” He finds that he despises when you lecture him this way, gums and skin and everything prickly and he wish he could gnaw on something right about now.

It was odd to tell him these things, taking into consideration that his role is considerably higher than yours and that he hardly ever faults as an alpha. If there wasn’t something going on biologically, what else could it be?

He’s obviously straining to keep his composure now, jaw slacked and knuckles cracking in his fist, “How am I supposed to do that now? It won’t happen again. It’s over.”

“Then what about your shitty mood swings? We don’t argue, Hoseok. You’re not mean, you’re not easily agitated, and you’re not a fucking paper  shredder. Neither are you aggressive to your own mate,” you throw in his face, unsurprised when he cowers again at the thought. It’s like the man was on his period.

Now that you recall, the last time you’ve ever seen him so angry at you is when you watched Endgame without him, and that should say enough. This was just all so new and unbecoming of someone with his level of reputation.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that. I never want to hurt you…” he leads as you beat him to the driver’s side of the car, watching him over the hood for him to finish his sentence, “I’m just—”

“You what, Hoseok?”

He jostles the door handle a few times, a rep of unsettling clacks making him uneasy.  

“Can you unlock the car?”

“You what?” you say a little louder, entirely avoiding his question.

“Goddammit,” he hisses, “Just let me in and we can talk about it when we get home.” You scan his face in search of anything. For the truth. For him to own up to what it is. What you get is nothing.

So you smile, “No.”

He stands cluelessly as you unlock your door and hop in, starting the car with a satisfying roll and opening his window just enough to see his addled facial expression.

“What are you doing?” he deadpans.

“If you won’t admit it then you obviously don’t take me seriously, and if you won’t take me seriously then I’ll take my car home by myself. So, toodles!”

He smirks nervously, slender fingers sifting through his hair, “Y/N, c’mon. Just let me in.” He’s even more staggered when you start reversing out of your spot. Eyes widening hilariously, he cusses under his breath as he walks cautiously towards the door.

“Have a fun run, baby. Better get home soon,” you feign pity, “looks like it’s going to start raining pretty soon.”

“We live an hour away!”

You drive down the row, turning on your signal just in case someone needed to know. Shucks, you were such a good driver, even in the parking lot.

Hoseok thinks otherwise, anger and panic so vivid that you can feel it from this distance. Walking Time Bomb even begins to jog, not willing to risk your bluff.

“Okay! Okay, I admit it. I may be going through something…” his wavering voice trickles into your head. “You’re right.’

You let him catch up to you, eyes shifty and fingers fiddling. “Hi, darling. Can you say that one more time? In person?” His chest puffs.

“I already said it once,” he begs.

Was his pride this important? Did the strangled mutt deep down change your Hoseok for the worst? An impatient car behind you honks and you shrug.

“You’re making people wait. I’m going to leave.”

“Jesus fucking—okay. I think I’m teething. Or something involving my dental state. It’s making me fucking grumpy and it’s painful and I want to punch a fucking wall because it’s stupid that this phase is so late.” You unlock his door mid-sentence, his body falling into his seat before he continues to blabber on.

“Oh, little puppy,” you slide your sunglasses from atop your head down to the bridge of your nose, “Don’t be so sensitive. ‘S like a human adult getting braces.”

The week passes by agonizingly slow. And that wasn't necessarily because Hoseok bitched and complained, throwing temper tantrums when the remote had fallen between the couch cushions or throwing his pants stormily when they would catch on his ankles and make him hobble about like a disabled chicken.

Or maybe it was because of that.

You dare to creak the door to his den (pun intended), having locked himself in such confinement to work through the paperwork that's been piling on his mahogany desk for days. He looks worn around the eyes, long brown hair pushed back with his fake reading glasses. You knock three times as if he couldn't already sense your presence. When he looks at you through his lashes, he nods for you to proceed.

"Hi, baby. How's the work going?" you ask with a honey-dipped edge.

He shrugs, "A lot of affairs from other packs that I have to go over. I should be done soon."

You slink behind his office chair and wrap your arms around his shoulders, "Mm, why don't you take a break and have a nice little bath with me?" He doesn't budge one inch, straightening out a stack of papers before stapling them neatly and tucking them into one of his drawers.

"I need to finish this. I've been pushing it back until the last minute."

Rolling him out a bit, you slide onto his lap and rest on his chest. Your touch always lulls a serene sensitivity from his skin, a natural effect that only you are capable of. But his muscles remain taut. Bones stiff and budging none whatsoever. Stuttering, you try again, "You've been working for hours. I'm lonely. Just an hour--,"

"Y/N. I'm warning you. Get off."

She-wolf unconsciously warns you to stand down upon this statement. Was he being serious? He's warning you? You search his blank face, waiting for him to crack a smile or lift you up and attack you with kisses. When he doesn't, you test the waters.

Your nails scratch the bare skin under his shirt, "H-Hoseokie, we haven't had sex in so long," you whine. Invading his space, however, only sets him off more.

He growls, deep and meant to be menacing. It takes brutal force to push yourself to move, a weight halting your ministrations. His word, no matter how rare it be, was your law. Do you dare defy that?

You unbutton his pants the same time he threatens, "Continue any further and see what happens." He's breathier than normal and that gives you some satisfaction. He was your mate, after all. Eternal fulfillment was your duty.

The feeling of his heavy and growing bulge, nestling in the crook of his thigh, is a success all in its own. You purr and rub your legs together, licking at Hoseok's neck lovingly and waiting for him to give in. "Hobi, you're already--ah!"

Your view spins as Hoseok scruffs you to his desk, cold wood pressed to your cheek and wrists somehow pinned behind you. Yiping in fear, you struggle in his harsh imprisonment.

"You don't fucking listen," he complains, voice balancing on the line between speaking and yelling.

"Hoseok! L-Let me g-go--," you start before he grinds himself into your ass, boner prominent and angry as it prods. He replaces the hand to your neck with his mouth, laving and suckling all the way down your shoulder.

"Can't do that. I warned you and you disobeyed me. You disobey your alpha, Y/N?"

"No, I'm sorry--," you squeak before your dress is thrown over your back and a sharp slap comes down onto your ass.

You don’t believe the sound that comes out of your throat, pressing your thighs together and wiggling the pain away. “J-Jung Hoseok! What is—” Another slap, harder than the first.

The nerves tingle all the way down to your toes as your eyes roll back. You moan once more, unsolicited and without restraint. Hoseok is content with your reaction, not expecting you to squirm so nicely because of your punishment.

"You like this, don't you? I can smell you leaking like some submissive whore," he snarls with an edge of disappointment. You're beyond mortified of how he speaks to you, although not inclined to deny his words. Not when he spanks you once more, with such force that a scream is rewarded and your back arches in euphoric pain.

"Hoseok, no more, please. I'll--I'll cum if you keep, ugh," you blabber over yourself. He thinks you look prettily pathetic drooling on his desk, so close to spilling over the edge from being physically humiliated.

"Tch, so weak," he comments before releasing your wrist and letting you collapse to the floor. "Are you done?" The question both turns you on and pisses you off, emotions swirling into something self-destructive.

Crawling on the carpet and up his leg, you nuzzle into his bulge, "But I still didn't get what I want." You don’t even ponder where this behavior is coming from; slinking out of you like a dog with its tail between its legs. Perhaps his own change of manner influenced one in you.

He could laugh at how easy you were being, wondering when he ever mated with someone who acts like such a sexually-obsessed brat. "Oh?" he prompts, "So you think you get to make the calls here?"

Licking the hem of his boxers in response, he doesn't feel pleased with your lack of words. You perk up when he shuffles his cock out from the confines of his layers. It’s almost instinctual, not wasting any time to pepper kisses and kitten licks to his tip. God, he even smells amazing. You don't care if you look ridiculous, feverish with your actions like he'd take away your precious treat if you weren't cautious.

He snickers at you, petting your hair with an unexpectedly soft touch. Your heart-shaped irises peer up, knowing he loves your eye contact when you suck him off. Watching the blush spread on his face means that you must be doing your job correctly. Besides, not even the Big Bad Wolf can deny when he feels his pleasure.

He almost can’t stand the self-righteousness that oozes off you. If you thought you were in control, you were dead-wrong. "You want my cock that bad, huh, baby?" your love bunches as much of your hair as he can with his fist, "Then fucking take it."

Then his girthy dick shoves to the back of your throat without warning, hips to your nose and thrustingthrustingthrusting as far as he can.

You'd sputter if your mouth wasn't so full, eyes overflowing with tears and throat constricting in hopes that he'll let you go. When he doesn't and continues to grind himself down your mouth, you dig your nails into his thighs and whine on his persistent cock. It doesn’t matter, the digging crescents in his thighs rousing him even further and even hoping those pretty nails of yours leave marks for him. He’d accept no less.

Hoseok thrusts twice more before pulling you off and watching you cough maniacally. The tears that gathered were now running down your face, accompanied with your saliva that leaks from your chin and onto the floor.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't ask him to stop, and you loved it.

He cocks a brow as you struggle to catch up, "We'll stop here. You're obviously not made for this."

Pitiful is the only word he can use to describe how quickly you paw and beg for him, desperately wrapping your fingers around the base of his member and pumping him just the way he likes it, "No! I can take it, please use me." Your unstable hand massages the cum-saliva mix as well as it can, a small victory celebrated when he bucks into you.

"Mm," his thumb wipes a stray tear from your lip, "You're so beautiful when you cry. Will you sit on the desk for me?"

You don't hesitate to obey, being careful to hop up when your bum is so sore but otherwise eager for him to touch you again. When he places himself between your legs, your body hums.

"I'm... I'm not well, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you," he says, voicing his first concern after what's already happened. With his brows knit in concern and his slender fingers rubbing calmly at your sides, it's almost as if the Hoseok you know has returned. The Hobi that makes your pancakes just a little overcooked like you prefer. Who makes you a blanket nest when you’re feeling down. And will gladly give up his last bite of anything to watch you munch happily even after you’ve finished your own portion.

In some way, this was your same Hobi. Maybe not so sweet and innocent but more on the receiving end. Spending his days tending to you out of pure love and pleasure to see you bloom; it was just your turn to return the favor.

So you kiss him with fervor and mold your chest to his, feeling the scorching heat that emanates from him. He must seriously be straining himself, you think. His canines graze your lips and you know he's trying his best to hold back; to not completely obliterate you.

"I want to help you," you whisper against his mouth. You implore him and he doesn’t hesitate to take your offer.

You extend your legs as he rushes to pull down your thong, throwing it to the side, and embracing you with another kiss, all tongue and pants. Some of his documents get ruffled under your steadying hands and he shoves them off altogether, a rain of really important paper littering the room. He comes in a little too excitedly, slamming a drawer closed with his thigh and even scooting his desk across the floor.

“God fucking dammit,” he swears, your chuckles covering his wet lips. “I’m… a mess… not thinking straight. Need to cum inside you.”

You purr when his head rubs against your sex, an electric sensation tearing through you. “Want you to knot me,” you whisper. A mistake in its own because he’s practically moaning into your mouth when you say such things.

“Yeah, baby? Want your cunt pumped full? Hm?” he asks into your jaw, all the while spreading your legs as far as they can split with his strong hands. His hips begin to circle like he’s stalling as long as possible and that rouses you up in a way.

You nod with sultry eyes and chant, “Yes. Yes, yes.” By the second yes does he all but slam into you, your final confirmation his endgame.

Hoseok was truly blessed in size, something no mere human could ever match. His length alone would make you double over in ecstasy if he allowed you the space to. Squeezing around him only makes him fuck you deeper, both wanting and needing more of each other than you already have. You were made for him, and him you.

You whimper as he pulls out, his head tantalizing your g-spot before ramming back inside and forcing an angelic cry. “H-Hoseokie… Please, your pups. I want to have your pups”

The sounds of his hips against your skin with your moans and the subtle creak of his desk is almost humorous, you were fucking like dogs. Even more so when he pushes you flat against the wood by the front of your throat, his thumb tucked gently on an airway as your tongue flops out in simple bliss.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he snarls with a particularly evil drill to your core that curls your toes. “Nothing to me would be more satisfying than to breed you.”

Your throat constricts and you cough, your tiny hands tugging at his fingers while barely being able to pry his grip. You can’t resist moaning through clenched teeth still, even when the prettiest wine red pours into his irises. Hoseok holds back incredibly well, despite having shifting eyes, his total control never fails to astonish you. It was years worth of training and you thank the stars that it was useful in a time where you were literally stuffed with his cock.

“And you’re so willing; so obedient now. You like when I fuck you like this. Just want that beautiful pussy bred until you’re spilling, right?” he chuckles with means to humiliate when your eyes flutter and drool spills from your swollen lips, “What a mate.”

You tighten, an embarrassing amount of arousal spilling and sticking to your love. He doesn’t mind one bit, rather, losing composure for a brief moment, “Ugh, so good.”

His hand suddenly withdraws from your tender neck and you sputter an attempt to catch your breath, a fleeting moment before he wraps his arms under your knees and prompts you to hang onto him when he stands. How quickly he’s able to switch positions is hot in itself, but the thought is also lost when you sink down even further on his dick.

“Oh, oh my god,” you wail pathetically, wrapping yourself around him and trying to lift your trembling body to ease how full you feel, even for just a moment.

“Hm? I thought you wanted this, baby. Wanted my complete, unforgiving love for you. Isn’t that why you walked into my office?” he smirks similarly to how you imagine the devil would. His hands find leverage against the closest wall, also shoving you against it and resuming his pace into you.

This, to whichever persona was hiding deep down in Hoseok, was divine. Incredible. You would die for this man even without the bond. He was literally screwing you braindead.

He pants, warm and sweaty and shirt somehow unbuttoned halfway down (when did you do that?), “I thought you wanted my knot? Not anymore?”

Your pupils blow out as you shake your head, you were so close.

“Ah, then I’ll knot you. I’ll knot you but you have to beg,” he says with a wink. Bastard.

“Please, please knot me, baby. Breed me and let me have your pups,” you sob, “Fill me up until I can’t take it anymore, Alpha, please—”

He jabs incessantly until you’re entirely maxed out, sloppy smacks echoing out further than the den and his growls emanating when you drag your sharp nails down his back, the fabric tearing under your fingers. Hoseok grinds his full length into you, reaching beyond the end of your walls.

“S-Stay,” he orders. He slows as the base of his cock swells and even though you asked for it, it’s always a little uncomfortable. You can’t even fathom how it feels for your mate, his sudden groans and the absolute necessity to lave at your neck only scraping at the surface of any real indication.

Hoseok told you once that it was similar to both being overstimulated and having a sudden spike of energy, which could explain his touchiness. It was cute though, and kinda hot.

Nestled deep inside, you can subtly feel the ropes of semen beginning to pool. You rest your head over his shoulder, buzzing from the intensity of it all and watching as the walls move and shift into the ones of your bedroom.

Hoseok’s hoarse voice surprises you, “Fuck, I’m so dizzy.”

The bed is a heavenly difference from the den’s desk and wall, your heart pounding a little too hardly when he places one of his pillows lengthwise under your back for extra squish. He was so cute.

But then he collapses on you.

“Oof—I’ve never seen you like that before. My ass hurts,” you state dreamily.

“Oh, love. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks seriously, lifting his head to study your face in case you lie. The red dissipated long before, his deep brown eyes twinkling down at you like they always do.

“You were a little rough,” you feign, pouting and pushing around his face with paw-folded fists. He thinks you look like an idiot, a cute idiot.

“I’m sorryyyy,” he whines, burying his face into your chest and wiggling around like a fish. His knot moves with him and you wince.

“Hoseok, stay still.”

Being showered in a sudden attack of kisses is what he responds with, not even aware of the task at hand and fake crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to hurt you—I—oh no.”

You yipe as semen sloshes down your leg, shoving your palm into Hobi’s (who is undoubtedly back to his usual self) cheek and trying your best to not panic.

“Goddammit, Jung Hoseok! Stay still!”

beep boop hope you liked, leave some feedback if you did!

[fmdtaeyongarchive]

— after meeting you.

date: 2011-2021.

word count: 1,886 words, excluding lyrics.

summary: ash makes a song over the course of ten years.

triggers: n/a.

notes: creative claims verification. 

it’s a song a decade in the making. over the course of ten years, he comes back to it over and over as a diary of his idea of the perfect love.

2011

he begins it on the doorstep of the first time he’ll ever fall in love. he’s a trainee and his days are filled with nonstop practice. when he comes home late at night or in the early hours of the morning, he barely has the time to pull out his homework to complete enough to keep passing classes and avoid a scolding from the company, but he still finds time to try to put into words what he’s feeling.

love is everything he’d heard about and more. he’s had the butterflies, the moments of awe, but he’s also found himself confused at times by how much he has to learn about being someone’s boyfriend. hand holding on the playground in third grade and shy kisses during spin the bottle in middle school hadn’t prepared him for actually falling in love.

he’s young, only fifteen when he writes down the first words of what he has no idea will one day be one song of many he stands on stage and sings by himself. he has no idea about the heartbreak he’ll endure in the next decade, that the one he thinks will be his first and last will be far behind him by the time the world gets to hear the words.

we understand each other i was surprised how we got used to each other

he’s never felt this way with anyone. the quiet understanding, the spark he feels at every touch and every glance they share between ash leaving class and heading into practice or on the late nights of the weekend when he can slip in time to see them. if this is the love everyone’s always talked about, that everyone’s written countless songs about and based movies and art on, he can understand why.

in the bright morning i open my eyes while thinking of you

he’s young and it feels like no one takes his love as seriously as it feels to him. it’s all-consuming and he just knows they’re the two that got lucky to find their soulmates and life partners so young. the idea of fate battles with his desire for free will, but he doesn’t care which is real when his arms are around them.

it’s only a few lines, tucked away on a sticky note stuck to the margins of a school notebook, but they show a boy who believes in every word he writes, words he’ll reshape and flesh out when he’s older and his korean has refined itself into something more sophisticated than he can offer at fifteen, but one phrase he writes doesn’t change at all:

i love you

january 2016

more pieces of what will eventually become the song stick themselves together over the years, through relationships and flings, but it’s not until years later that he sits in a vocal practice room at bc entertainment alone, old notebook in front of him and his fingers on the keyboard.

the notes of the melody he writes link to years into the past and stay with him for years into the future.

solo music is still a pipe dream for him, but something he’s afraid to put a name to has sparked again in his heart. it’s not the only time since the first time he’d fallen, but it’s the most confusing for him.

see, they’re not dating. they’re friends who have fallen into the trap of letting skin on skin bleed into their hearts to mean more than it does.

for ash, at least. he doesn’t know if his touch has bled into her bone marrow the same way hers has into his, and so he doesn’t say anything. not to her. instead, he lets his fingers idle on a piano, recalling the moment he’d first looked over at her and realized he was in trouble.

for as complicated and messy as his situation is, the melody line he crafts doesn’t soar too high or too low, it doesn’t tumble over itself in rapid notes or odd time signatures, though he still simplifies it down some more a few years later when he comes back to it. it sits in 4/4 time signature, the most basic, for love sits inside such a simplistic framework, bent out of shape by the imperfect humans who inhabit it and, as ash has now come to learn, sometimes break the frame in half. 

the piano piece is therapy in keys, the only therapy he knows at the time, not for lack of needing it, but because of lack of time and motivation to take care of himself in the way he should.

the impending spiral downward in the next few months he can’t foresee yet will be the breaking point, but he’ll never stop coming back to the keys when he feels emotions he can’t share with anyone else.

late 2016-2017

more lyrics and music slot into place over the rapidfire falling he does over a few months. there’s the model trainee he thinks he could love that shatters his heart in the aftermath of a heartfelt confession. there’s the ill-fated relationship that starts hopeful, but dissolves into fighting before he can even write much embodying that hope. then, there comes her and then him, the ones that leave him looking back on his record of love put into song and makes him want to spill tears to drown every instrument and wet every notebook so he can never write something so hopeful again.

there are times he writes words about them, but, often, he’s at a loss for words, and the song becomes more instrumental than voice, silence on his part.

silence is what damns him in the end.

2017-2019

in kijung, ash is sure he’s found the true muse to the song he’s been writing for years.

just like now when it’s peaceful i want to be with you forever i thought that as i was looking at you i was so happy after meeting you i was able to love you so much because you embraced and understood my young and immature mind warmly

he almost plays the song for him one night, almost decides he wants to rewrite it to be solely about kijung so he can sing it for him and only him, but fear makes him back out.

months later, fear makes him back out of the relationship altogether and the song remains a patchwork quilt of lovers past.

mid-2020

when she’s back in his life, the tone changes.

when we hurt each other with nonchalant tones i can’t bear our distant relationship so i’m sorry even now when i’m anxious i want to be with you forever i thought that as i was looking at you

he knows now that love can hurt just as badly when one’s in it as it can once it’s ended.

are you happy after meeting me, too? i’m sorry that i have more that i couldn’t give you i’m selfish and unstable but i wanted to treat you well

he breaks her heart and his own at the same time and comes to realize he’s no longer a man built to be deserving of the love he’s prayed at the altar of his whole life.

late 2020

there’s a piece of writing advice ash has heard over and over again for as long as he can remember: write what you know.

but when he pieces together the last lyrics of the song, they’re to everyone he’s known and someone he’s never known at once. they’re to someone he’s accepted he’ll never meet, or to someone he let slip away. he can’t tell which one, but he knows it’s more fantasy than reality.

he bleeds out every ounce of hope he has left inside of him and leaves it printed in ink and bared in song. ten years of hope etched into one song, meeting a man who now stands empty of it. he’s faced with a mirror image of someone brighter and bolder, touched with love, but left shielded from the inevitable heartbreak attached to it.

in the end, they sit over an instrumental that’s been recrafted so that something sad hits under the hope, harmonizing the truth with the dream he’s packed away and abandoned.

i think i found a perfect love that i’ve waited for for a long time because you held me and gave me energy because you hugged me by being considerate lovingly after i met you

2021

he sends in the demo to the company right before the release of his fourth solo album as closure, but he doesn’t expect to hear back that they’re interested in having him release it. it’s so different from the sound that most of lovesick had been drenched in. it fits better the music he’d been known for releasing three or four years ago when he’d been first starting out as a soloist. it makes sense that it does, considering much of the song had been created before then, but management seems more excited for it than he’d expected.

he doesn’t realize right away why, but once he gets the brief for some, he realizes that maybe they’ve decided he’s been too mopey as of late to be marketable.

despite his best efforts not to let his hesitancy about some infect his work on this song, some resentment builds inside as he spends time in the studio on it. the more he listens back to different takes of his own voice singing back the polished lyrics over the finalized melody, the more he feels like he’s mocking himself. it sounds out of place in his voice.

he’d give up if he didn’t know that letting bc know he was throwing in the towel would only mean they’d put someone else on the job to get the final product completed, and as sour as he is, the song still has strings that attach to the inside of his chest that he’s not ready to cut to hand the song over to someone else.

erin is the one who points out what’s wrong to him one night when she comes to visit him in his studio.

“you sound really young here.” she’s silent for a moment, and then she corrects herself. “you sound like you’re trying to sound young.”

she’s right.

he’s trying to sound like the fifteen year old ash who had been the root of all of this. for a man who’s been so insistent he’s not good at playing a character when he’s writing, he’s taken on the persona of someone who can skate along the surface level of the song for the sake of marketability — a man the words can’t hurt.

the song isn’t about first love just because those were what the first words had been written about.

so, he re-records it, singing it like the man who’s experienced everything he’s been through. he switches out the arrangement from coffee house acoustic to transition the instrumental from a simple piano and strings arrangement o a full-out orchestral arrangement toward the end.

when he’d felt the first rays of love, he may have thought that it was as easy as two complementary instruments, but in the decade since, he’s learned all of the moving pieces that have to come together.

by most accounts, its arrangement lends itself to a run of the mill emotional ballad, and bc will either love or hate that, but some of the pieces that had been failing to line up slot in to place.

listening back, the song still makes him sadder than he can imagine a younger ash would be proud of.

the night he finishes, he sits in his studio with the lights low and loops the track, searching through every line for a flaw he needs to fix. it comes without thought, looking for what he’s done wrong.

as he sits there, he hears his own voice repeat over and over again thoughts from years past, singing about once-perfect loves that had only been perfect for flashes of time in a broad expanse of history, and he stops the track. for once, he’s done searching for his own faults.

[dimpled-gukkie]

Euphoria

moodboard by @euphoriajjkook

Pairing: Surfer!Park Jimin x Coffee shop worker!Reader (feat. sarcastic commentary from Jeon Jungkook)

Genre: fluff, college au and coffee shop au

Warnings: none 

word count: 5k

Summary: You work at the local coffee shop in an empty seaside town. Jimin is a local surfer that has an affinity for buying coffee even though he doesn’t really like it. In a series of shameless flirting, does he get the girl?

A/n: Happy birthday @i-am-today-we-will-survive!!!! Thank you for being my ghost bestie and someone who I could always go to if I needed advice. I’ve talked more to you about my feelings than anyone else and I couldn’t ask for a better first online friend. Anyways, I love you and I hope you have a great day! P.s. I had this planned before you told me about the Tae fic and when you did I laughed really hard bc we really are the same 

The early morning breeze curls around you, tangling itself in your hair as you walk to the small cafe to start your opening shift. The sound of crashing waves fills the air and you sigh, getting lost amongst the beauty of a seaside town. Although many find places like this only suitable for the summer, you love it. You welcome the quiet mornings of the fall, when the snowbirds are gone and you can get lost amongst your thoughts without worrying about running into someone. Unlocking the shop, the bell tinkles above you softly, something you’re grateful for since it is only five o’clock in the morning. Turning on the lights you get started on the day, grounding the coffee beans and setting up the machines. You expect to be alone for a few hours since most of your town just consists of college students now and no one wants to wake up this early but you’re surprised by that familiar chime. Turning around, you’re faced to with a sandy haired boy, both literally and figuratively, beaming at you as water drips from the ends of his hair onto the polished floor. A wet suit clings to his frame and you almost choke on your spit at his defined abdominal muscles and taut arms. Quickly avoiding his gaze you hurry towards the register, keeping your gaze facing towards the keys rather than the boy to hide your frazzled nature. “What can I get you?” You ask, still refusing to meet his gaze. 

“What would you suggest?” He replies flirty, leaning against the counter to press his chin into his palm. You glance up at the movement and a chesire cat-like grin stretches across his face as he takes in your flustered state. 

“Uh…Caramel Macchiato?” His laugh sounds like literal angels and you can’t help but want to hate him for being so perfect. 

“For someone who works in a coffee shop, you sure do seem unsure about coffee.” His eyes twinkle, glittering as brightly as the silver rings on his fingers. Chubby fingers that seem like they’d be so nice and warm to hold that you almost want to reach out and- what are you saying? You’ve just met this boy, you don’t even know his name, and yet you’re already thinking about holding his hand? 

“What can I say? I’m only intelligible after two coffees.” The boy’s grin grows even wider, teeth pearly white like ocean foam, and his eyes turn into sweet crescents. You can’t help but smile back when faced with such an ethereal sight. 

“I’ll take three caramel macchiatos to-go then.” 

“Name?” 

“Jimin.” Fitting. A cute name for a cute boy. The conversation cuts there, although Jimin does hum while you make the drinks. Normally you’d be rushing to make them, clumsily clanking dishes together in an effort to get the customer out of the shop to kill the suffocating silence but with Jimin you feel fine, relaxed even. Maybe it’s because of his warm honey hair and eyes. When the drinks are made, you bring them over to the counter where Jimin twirls a stick meant for stirring your drink between his fingers. 

“Here you go.” You smile, gently pushing them towards him. Your smile falls however when Jimin places his hands over yours and pushes two cups back towards you, only taking one for himself. “Did I do something wrong? Do you not want them?” You ask, crease between your brows defined from your confusion. 

“Nope.” He smiles, taking a sip of his drink before groaning. “Damn that’s good. See you around…Y/n.” Your hands remained wrapped around the drink and only after he’s out of the shop, waving at you through the window when he stops to pick up his surfboard leaning against it, do you bother taking them away. A napkin flutters gently against the counter, one you didn’t even realize he stuck onto your hand. Picking it up, you can’t help but laugh and look away, all while grinning bashfully. ‘Hold onto this until you finish the drinks. Wanna make sure you remember me once you’re intelligible. -Jimin”. It’s complete with a wink and a heart placed delicately in the corner.  

You hurry out of the shop after your shift is over, running off to your first class of the day. When you get to the lecture hall, Jungkook pats the seat next to him and you slide into it, taking a deep breath to relax your rapid heart. “You look like you just ran a marathon.” Jungkook remarks, reaching down to hand you his water bottle from under the table. 

“That’s because it feels like I did.” You tell him, guzzling down half his water causing him to whine. 

“Y/n, don’t drink it all.” You roll your eyes and pull your lips away from the bottle, offering to buy him a new one after class. 

“How about boba instead? Don’t you have a thirty minute break between classes?” Jungkook’s doe eyes become increasingly wider as he gives you his best puppy dog eyes. 

“I see. When it’s your money I can’t even drink half your water but when it’s mine you want a $5 drink.” You tease, already kissing goodbye the last few dollars you have to your name. At least you get your paycheck at the end of the week to replenish your dry bank account.

“Is that a yes?” Jungkook perks up, disregarding your sarcasm. When you nod he cheers, a bunny smile dimpling his cheeks while he claps his hands excitedly. You can’t help the fond smile taking over your face as you watch the him do a happy dance in his seat. Jungkook is like your excitable little brother. The type where you just want to pinch his cheeks and protect him from everything bad in the world. 

“Thanks Y/n!” He chirps, before falling silent when your professor enters the room. As he drones on about the Psychosexual stages you can’t help your mind drifting on to the new patron from this morning. The one with the iron-clad thighs and bright smile. 

You don’t expect to see the object of your daydreams at the boba shop when you enter but yet here he is. He’s not in a wet suit anymore, instead in a pair of what you assume to be board shorts and an oversized white shirt. It amazes you how despite the lackluster outfit you still can’t help but stare completely enraptured with his beauty.  Jungkook nudges you to break your attention from Jimin and you lick your lips nervously at being caught. “Wipe your chin. You’re drooling.” He snickers and you hastily wipe at your chin only to discover nothing is there. 

“You brat.” You growl loud enough to gain Jimin’s attention. 

“Oh hey!” He smiles, cheeks doubting in size as the corners of his mouth push them up. 

“Hi.” You wave shyly, looking behind him at Jungkook’s smug smile. It’s moments like this where he watches your suffering that you wonder just why you’re best friends in the first place. 

“I was hoping to see you tomorrow but this is much better.” Despite his blatant flirting and confidence seeming to exude from his very being, a small blush rises at his words. Your heart stumbles a bit, endeared by his newfound bashfulness. You two stare at each other, you unsure what to say and Jimin smiling softly at you before Jungkook interrupts. 

“I hate to break this umm.. moment but I’m thirsty and she needs to get to class.” 

“Oh right sorry.” Jimin apologizes, immediately stepping aside to let you reach the counter. You glance back again at Jimin to find him still staring, smilingly shyly at you when you make eye contact again. “I guess I should go. See you tomorrow Y/n?” His gaze is somewhat hopefully and your heart starts racing at the implication. 

“Yeah sure. See you then Jimin.” His smile brightens as his name passes your lips and you’re sure in that moment you gave him the key to his heart. One he gladly took as he slowly walks over to grab his drink, winking at you one last time before finally leaving the shop. 

“I think I’m going to die of dehydration by the time I finally get my drink.” Jungkook whines, looking longingly at the poster of the latest special.

“You could’ve ordered yourself you know?” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, checking the time on your phone. You have ten minutes to get to your next class, surely that’s enough time? Except Jungkook orders the most complex thing on the menu which you’re sure is a punishment for “nearly making him die of thirst”, so you end up sprinting across campus, your drink remaining untouched until you’re panting in your seat, cursing Jungkook’s name with each sip you take. 

Jimin surprises you by actually showing up the next day, once again in his wetsuit. His hair curls as the ocean water clings to it, a few tendrils plastered to his forehead that he tries to brush away with his hand. Tickles of sea water run down his face, curving around his jaw to trickle down his neck and down the planes of his chest. You lick your lips and swallow rather loudly, embarrassed because you know Jimin saw you and also because you’ve never wished to be a drop of water until this moment. “I missed you.” Jimin says, leaning against the counter and placing his chin into his palm. 

“That so?” You ask, struggling to hide the smirk on your face. Jimin’s confidence is infectious and you feel yourself becoming more emboldened by his affection by the second. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks coyly, lips curling into a smirk as he expects the answer to be a yes. Too bad for him you’re stubborn and refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“Nope.” You pop the p for extra emphasis, busying yourself with one of the machines to not have to look at his growing pout. 

“Pouting won’t get you anywhere, you know?” You tease, turning back towards him to pinch his jutted bottom lip between your fingers. 

“Not even when you’re this cute?” He places his hands under his chin and flutters his lashes at you, eyes puppy dog wide and full of innocence. 

“Afraid not.” You pat his head sympathetically. 

“Hmm… you’re a pretty good liar but I can see it in your eyes.” Sinking down onto your elbows you make direct eye contact. Jimin’s face os mere inches from your and it takes everything in you not to turn away. Tension begins to cloud the air around you but you’re too stubborn to break it. 

“And what just do my eyes say?” You cock your head slightly to the side. 

“That you find me attractive. Angelic even.” He winks, grin spreading so far across his face that his cheeks become bread-like and oh-so-pinchable. You stand up then at his words, too flustered at the fact that you’re caught to pretend that you don’t think Jimin is the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. You’re many things, but a liar isn’t one. Let alone a good one. 

“Maybe I do.” You mutter and he freezes like you just took his breath away, the same he does to you every time he enters the cafe. His cheeks dust a light rose color, similar to the one making its way across your own face since you weren’t expecting him to hear you, and you fiddle with the stack of to-go cups to divert your attention away from the beaming boy. “Anyways,” You say, clearing your throat. “what can I get you?” 

“Two caramel macchiatos.” You’re grateful that Jimin doesn’t bother to tease you about your slight confession but can’t help deflating a little because you were hoping he’d say three. That he’d buy you coffee just so he could leave you a greasy note on a napkin that leaves you a happy mess for the rest of the day. Maybe this was his subtle way of rejecting you?

“Oh, okay.” Grabbing the two cups, you turn to head to make the drinks but Jimin’s voice stops you. 

“Aren’t you gonna write my name on it?” He whines and you roll your eyes. 

“Alright.” 

“Honey bunches or babe?” Jimin asks and your head snaps up in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Which, which would you prefer? If someone were to uhh…call you that? Hypothetically of course.” He turns shy under your gaze, fiddling with his fingers and chewing his lower lip between his teeth. His new shy demeanor is endearing, although you may have to charge him for physical therapy with this whiplash he’s giving you. It’s hard to keep up with the changes in demeanor. 

“Honey bunches. It’s cute.” 

“Write that then. On both, please.” You nod, scribbling the name onto both cups, silence falling between you two as you make the drinks. Jimin doesn’t bother humming this time, opting to instead inspect everything he can see. Which means he accidentally screws up the entire set-up for the creamer area with his fiddling but you’ll let it slide this time. 

“Here you go.” You say, faking a smile like you didn’t spend the entire time you made the drinks wondering just who this one cup was for. Just who was he calling honey bunches? Was he just being nice yesterday? He seemed too flirty to just be friendly but maybe you read them wrong. 

“Thanks. Well, have a nice day…honey bunches.” He says hurriedly, smiling shyly at you before running out of the shop. You stare at the spot he was just in like he’s still there, too stunned to comprehend what just happened. It takes you a few seconds to process everything, and you’re left standing there staring at two cups in your hand while grinning like an idiot. 

Jimin has stopped by your cafe every morning for the past week, buying you two coffees despite your protests and each day your affection for him grows. Not only is he striking, but he’s also funny and kind. He helps you set up in the morning now, setting aside at least an hour each morning just to spend time with you. You’ve never been much of a morning person but with Jimin by your side you’re starting to grow fond of them. “So what’s your plan for today?” You ask Jimin, writing down the new week’s specials on the chalk board. 

Jimin sits next to you, doodling little images onto the board to make it look prettier. His tongue peeks out slightly between his plush lips, brows furrowed in concentration and you almost regret speaking and breaking him out of his trance. Seeing him so engrossed in his work is mesmerizing. “Probably going to head back out for a little while before going to class.” 

“Class?” You ask, completely dumbfounded. To be honest you thought Jimin was a bit of a beach bum, the only time you’ve ever seen him being after his morning surf and that one time in the boba shop. Plus on your small campus you surely would’ve seen him around. 

“Yeah. I’m studying pediatrics at the local university. Why do you seem surprised?” 

Your cheeks burn in shame, not wanting to tell Jimin why you were taken aback. “Didn’t realize you went here.” You mumble and Jimin nods. 

“You thought I just lived at the beach didn’t you?” He asks bluntly and your eyes blow wide at his words. Are you that easy to read? Gaze cast down to avoid his own, you nod your head slightly and Jimin laughs. 

“That’s alright, I know I give off that vibe. I like to surf in the morning for exercise. Gotta stay fit to be a doctor.” He smiles, patting your knee in assurance that he isn’t mad. Your body relaxes under his touch and even though his hand is gone within seconds you can still feel the weight of it on your skin. It’s comforting and you wish you had the courage to tell him to do it again and keep it there next time. But you don’t, so you just end up daydreaming about his hand on you while finishing the menu, eyes occasionally flicking to him every once in a while. 

When the sign is done and placed outside by the open door, you do one final sweep of the shop checking the clock for the time. It’s 6:50 which means the morning rush of college students should just begin trickling in. “Do you want anything to drink? For you this time.” You ask him and he nods, ordering a blended mocha. You immediately get to work, startling when you feel a presence behind you. Turning your head slightly you relax when you realize it’s just Jimin behind you and continue making his drink. He places his chin on your shoulder suddenly causing you to almost drop the entire container of milk.

“Woah! Careful there bunches.” His hands are placed over your own, his front pressed into your back since he rushed into you to catch the milk jug. You’re sure your whole face is on fire, Jimin’s warmth and scent encompassing you. He smiles at you when you turn your head to look at him, like he isn’t the culprit of your pounding heart and clammy hands. “You okay?” He asks softly, eyes roaming your body for any injury even though the assaulting item is in his hands, having not even really touched you. 

“Yeah.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your mind still lost in the haze caused by Jimin’s body wrapped around your own. Swallowing thickly, you turn back to Jimin’s drink to try and get a grip on your thoughts. Jimin says nothing the whole time and you have to glance behind you just to make sure he’s still there. His hands are presses against the counter that he leans his back onto, eyes never leaving your frame as you rush around. Only when you finish, placing the drink in his hands does he bother to say anything. 

“Have you ever thought of surfing?” He asks, popping the straw in his mouth to busy himself while waiting for your answer. It almost seems like he’s nervous. 

“Yeah…” You mumble fiddling with your fingers. 

“But what?” Jimin pushes himself off the counter to stand upright and moves closer to you, making you look up to face him. 

“I’m scared of sharks.” You whine, covering your face with your hands and Jimin can’t help but chuckle. 

“Bunches, you’re so cute.” He coos, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “Hey it’s okay. I’ll protect you alright? I mean, have you seen these muscles?” Jimin flexes his bicep and pats his stomach like you don’t know he has abs under his wetsuit. The same wetsuit that nearly gives you a heart attack every time he comes in from the way it clings to his frame. The fondness in his gaze captures your attention rather than his body because you’ve never seen him look at you like that. It’s almost like you hold all the stars and you stay silent, wanting this moment to last forever. “Is that a yes?” He asks, hope swirling in his irises. 

“Yes.” His grin is as blinding as the sun outside and he hugs you in his excitement. You tense for a second before relaxing into him, wrapping your arms around his lower torso to pull him closer to you. He smells like ocean water and coconut, likely from the sunscreen he uses, and so distinctly Jimin that you can’t stop yourself from burying your nose into his chest. You miss the way he grins down at you and tightens his grip on your body, completely enraptured. 

“Can you two just confess your love to each other so I don’t have to sit through your endless pining anymore?” Jungkook whines, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. You’re too busy watching Jimin teach the little kids how to surf to hear him. Several baby surfboards lay pressed into the sand as Jimin demonstrates how to properly paddle and jump up on the board. The children giggle as he must make some sort of joke and your heart warms at the sight of him laughing along with him. Your mind wanders to what Jimin would be like as a father and just when you’re getting to the good part Jungkook dumps half his water bottle on you. 

“Kook!” You scream, lurching up from your towel to scramble away from him. Your outburst gains the attention of some of the other visitors and you blush, especially when you hear Jimin call your name. 

“Just thought you needed to cool down.” He winks, nodding his head to Jimin who is now heading your way.

“I hate you.” You growl, flipping him off behind your back as you meet Jimin halfway. This feels almost like an episode of baywatch as shirtless Jimin jogs to you across the sand. muscles rippling under the sun, his hair gracefully flowing in the slight sea breeze. Except you have Jungkook cackling as your soundtrack. “Hi.” You say, becoming breathless when Jimin is only a few feet away. His bronze skin looks tantalizing, like he’s some sort of greek god and you wonder if maybe he is. 

“Hi.” Jimin sounds just as breathless, but you assume it must be the exertion of running in the sand. “What are you doing here bunches?” He asks curiously, cocking his head to the side. 

“Kook and I wanted to get some sun. Plus I thought I might take you up on that surf lesson.” You fiddle with the strands of your hair as you say it, the fear of rejection much too real. What if Jimin didn’t mean it? What if you read the signs wrong and he only likes you as a friend?

“Oh! Yeah okay. The lesson with the little ones is over in a half hour so I’ll just meet you afterwards.” You nod and Jimin smiles back at you. Eyes flicking to Jungkook who you’re sure is filming this whole thing to show you just how embarrassing it was later. “Is he gonna stay around the whole time?” 

“Maybe. Actually probably not. The separation anxiety between him and his video games is strong.” You laugh and Jimin seems to relax a little. 

“Good. I was hoping we’d be alone.” He smiles innocently, yet you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation. His eyes dart down at the movement holding on your lips so that you bite on them anxiously. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he let out a small groan at the action. “I’ll see you in a bit okay? I-I have to get back to the littles.” Your heart grows two sizes as he jogs back to them and they tackle him into the sand in a hug. 

You might throw up. Looking out into the crashing waves, a surfboard tucked under your arm, you can’t help but wonder what lurks beneath the waves. You know realistically you’re probably fine, that Jimin has surfed his whole life and hasn’t seen one but you can’t help the ominous feeling bubbling in your stomach. A warm hand is placed onto the small of your back and you jump, startled from your own thoughts. “I’ll be right here the whole time okay?” Jimin assures you, eyes boring into yours to show his seriousness. The hand on your back moves to grasp your own lightly, fingers intertwining as Jimin leads you to the water. You glance back hesitantly to where Jungkook sits and he throws you a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath you face back forward and tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand, letting him drag you into the depths. 

The water is slightly cold, similar temperature to your iced tea back at the shore that only has a few ice cubes in it since the rest have melted. It wraps around your hips, the waves lapping against you as the sea foam licks your skin. Jimin lets go of your hand and you whine, reaching out for him for comfort. “It’s alright bunches. We just gotta get on the board now. I’m still right here.” Jimin holds onto you board as you clamber on, knuckles nearly white from how tight you grip the edges. The water feels like it’s trying to buck you off as you move along with the wave and you realize this was a mistake. Just what did you get yourself into all for Jimin’s sweet smile and cute laugh? “Relax bunches.” Jimin says, leaning down onto the board you’re sprawled across to press his face right next to yours. His hand moves up to caress your cheek, pushing stray strands of hair of your face before roaming over your shoulder and down the slope of your back where it rubs small circles. You close your eyes at his ministrations, focusing on his touch rather than the movement of the waves. “You good?” Jimin asks after the rigidity in your body melts away. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.” Jimin grins back at you and you’re jealous by how relaxed he is. You guess it’s because this is his element, the same as you in the cafe. He backs up off the board and drags you out further into the ocean where the baby waves are. 

“I’m going to count to three and when I get to three start paddling okay? Stand up when you can feel the wave under you like we practiced out on the sand.” 

“I feel like this is a good time to mention I suck at skateboarding.” Jimin giggles, throwing himself into you, arms wrapping around your shoulders and face digging into your neck through his fit. You don’t know what to do so you just lay there on the board, blaming the blush on the sun and not the fact that he’s curled around you, and pat his arm hooked around your front. 

“Okay no more fun and games.” Jimin pulls away, suddenly serious. It’s go time baby.” Turning your board around so you’re facing the shore, Jimin holds onto the board as he watches the waves trying to pick out the perfect one. You wait for a minute, nerves buzzing in anticipation, before you hear him begin to count. You paddle as hard as you can and when you feel the wave begin to crest you scramble to your feet, well one foot since your other knee is on the board, but you don’t care because you’re surfing! Too caught up in the excitement you forget how to stop and tumble off the board into the water, pushing up off the sand to break the surface. 

“I did it! Jiminie did you see?!” You yell as Jimin hurries towards you, eyes slipping behind his grin. When he gets close enough he pulls you into him, strong arms wrapping around your lower back and pushing you into the air. 

“Good job baby!” He coos, eyes alight with pride. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.” Your face flushes at the new pet name and you smile shyly at him. 

“Baby huh?” Jimin unwraps one hand from around you to scratch the back of his neck, nervously chewing on the bottom of his lip. 

“Well, yeah. If you want to be.” 

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend Park Jimin? Even though we haven’t been on a date yet?” You can’t help the grin taking over your face, elation pounding through your veins. Park Jimin likes you back. Park Jimin likes you. This beautiful boy who you’re pretty sure is actually an angel wants you. 

“Why do you think those mornings in the cafe were?” Jimin winks, giggling at the bashful look on your face. 

“Oh.” 

“So will you? Be my girlfriend I mean?” Jimin licks his lips and your eyes follow the movement wondering how they’d feel against your own. Well, you guess you better find out. Pressing your lips softly against his own instead of replying, you tighten your grip around Jimin’s neck, pulling his body closer to yours. His hands tangle into your hair as he kisses you harder, prying your lips open with his own, groaning when you tug onto his hair then- 

“Finally!” Jungkook screams causing you to break away startled. Turning around, Jungkook has all your stuff in his hands, dumping it onto the sand ten feet away from the ocean. “I have a feeling you’ll be here for a while and I’m bored so I’m leaving. See you later.” 

Turning back around you bury your face in Jimin’s neck, relishing in the warmth while also hiding from the world because you really just made out on a public beach. “So was that a yes?” Jimin asks and you roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. Pulling away you give his neck a light peck before moving back and kissing his nose. 

“Yes Jimin, that’s a yes.” 

“Wow, who would’ve guessed I’d have the world’s cutest girlfriend?” 

“Who would’ve guessed I’d have the world’s hottest boyfriend?” 

“Eww, that was greasy.” Jimin whines but the way his grip tightens around you and his grin grows you know he liked the praise. You’re about to say something else, something snarky, but a shadow catches your attention. A rather large shadow that’s moving slowly through the water and heading right towards you. Your body goes stiff and your hands shake as you point the shadow out to Jimin. 

“Jiminie is-is that what I think it is?” Your voice trembles and Jimin rolls his eyes until he notices the figure and bolts out of the water, you wrapped up in his arms. “I told you there were sharks!” You scream, wrapping your legs tighter around Jimin’s frame as he makes it to the safety of the sand. 

[izzyovercoffee]

Prompt number: 14. “I can't come back.” Fandom: Republic Commando Rating: PG Warnings/Tags: none that I can tell, ask to tag if need Summary: Bardan keeps Parja company at the shop on a rainy day. Notes: if I get any details wrong... my bad. also if it wasn’t clear... a lot of my repcomm writing is set in an Etain-lives AU, mostly bc her death makes zero sense in the narrative 

  Bardan lies on an old, well-loved chaise stitched together with the itching fabric sourced from the local farmers. The lights overhead blink in periodic outages---in tandem with the crack of thunder outside and the brilliant flashes through a single window at the far end of the machine shop. One hand facing up, lazy, a device slowly rotates a few centimeters above his palm. 

It’s not what he meant when he offered to help, earlier, but Parja insists he helps by lying there and “holding” the device.

To be honest, he’s not really sure what it does---and he doesn’t ask. 

She stands about two arms’ length from the chaise, arms crossed over her chest. Her tightly braided hair falls over one shoulder, the braids adorned with polished, painted beads that match her usual armor. 

“It’s not doing it,” she says, at length, after another two cracks across the sky outside. “Damn.”

“What’s it supposed to do?” he asks, curious. 

“Shock you,” she says. 

He looks away from the swaying, blinking lights, to the not-quite-cubed device in his hands. 

“Ah,” he says. “Well, it’s definitely not doing that.” 

“Is it doing anything?” 

He frowns in the direction of the device, and raises his hand higher. A small effect on the force and it rotates a tad faster over his palm. He waits a few seconds, watching it spin, and turns his head to look at her. 

“No,” he says. 

“Damn,” she says again.

Parja moves forward to pluck the device from its rotation above his hand, and shakes it between two fingers as she walks back to her worktable. He watches her go, lowering his hand over his chest while he adjusts the one cradling behind his head. 

“Need me to do anything else?” he asks. 

“Just stay there,” she says, and sets the device down on the table. She reaches for something else---her toolbox---and appears to switch her attention to another project. “Maybe tell me a story.” 

He’s not very good at stories. Mereel’s better at that sort of thing, and he’s a long, long way from Mandalorian Space. 

“I don’t have any stories off the top of my head, Parja,” he says, and wonders at what else he could, should, be doing. 

It almost feels like a waste, to lie here and do nothing when he could be outside, doing something. Filling up the time. Helping someone else. Helping Fi. Helping Etain. Helping the other Bralor, under whose care he placed Arla in spite of Kal’s disapproval. 

She moves across the machine shop as the storm clouds outside finally open up, and the torrential downpour crackles over the metal roofing of the establishment. Parja stops at an old speeder, one in obvious and desperate need of TLC---as Mereel likes to put it, tender loving care---and kneels by the engine.

“Do you ever miss it?” 

“Parja,” he says, “You’re never this vague.” 

“Bard’ika,” she says, imitating the way he says her name, “I know this is a touchy subject for you. I’m trying to be tactful.” 

“Please don’t worry about my feelings.”

“Someone has to.”

He frowns, and tilts his head to look back towards the ceiling, to the source of the ungentle drumming of the rains.

The quiet drags on---broken only by the storm---as Parja begins her work on the speeder. 

Bardan thinks about what she could possibly mean. Miss it. Miss what? The Order? The War? The Core?

Someone has to. And what’s that supposed to mean, too?

“That’s not fair,” he says. “You’re not the only one who cares.” 

She sighs, and then sets down one of her tools noisily onto the open toolbox lying on the hard ground.

“I know,” she says. “But of the two of us in here, it feels like I’m the only one.” 

Alright. He can’t have this conversation lying down.

He shifts, to groaning tired muscles, and sits up. His legs swing over the edge of the chair, and his feet touch the floor with a soft, barely-there scuffle. His fingers loosely interlace, hanging with his elbows at either knee and hands between them. 

Parja reaches out, to gently tug a stool over to herself so she can sit, and face both him and the speeder. 

“I just want you to ask me plainly,” he says, “because the Order only ever talked in circles.” 

The look she gives him is… studying. Curious. He can feel the gentle tug of that curiosity, that need, that urge to take apart and piece things together. It’s the look she wears when she plans to work on and rebuild old broken things and restore them to new---or, as she often says to him, better than new. Different, not wanting to reach for the impossible---not aspiring to be unbroken---but to have that brokenness shine through in its new form. 

It’s in everything she does.

It sometimes reminds him of how things could be, should be, but not how things were---in the Jedi Order, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and means it. He knows she means it, even without the unintentional taste of it on the force. “I haven’t met many ex-Jedi. I don’t know what the Order was like.” 

He feels the shrug rise his shoulders even despite not intending to do so---a bad habit he’s picked up from Mereel, maybe. Or Jaing. 

“I do miss it,” Bardan admits. “In the same way I miss a place, or a memory, through the lens of nostalgia---and then I endeavor to remember what it actually was like, when I feel myself doing so.”

Parja hums in response, neither an interruption nor a comment but an acknowledgement she hears him as she returns her attention on the project. She’s still listening---he knows this, too, from experience rather than any crutch to lean on through the force. 

So he continues. “But the Order was… there was a very real pressure, there, to adhere to standards that many of us couldn’t keep, or couldn’t reach. A standard that the… Masters, themselves, did not keep. And the consequences…” 

He pauses, chewing on the thought, feeling the weight of the pain in his chest and focusing on that pain as it threatens to claw its way up his throat. He lets himself experience it, feels it consume him, and allows it to dissipate. 

Parja waits, reaching down for another tool as she works. 

“...they were severe,” he says. “They always spoke of support, of acceptance, of love. And yet, those who needed it the most---the ones who couldn’t grasp the force easily, or what they were asked to do---were denied it, and dismissed.”

Parja pauses in her ministrations to look at him. “Dismissed?”

“No longer able to become Jedi,” he answers, and then frowns. He corrects himself: “Sorry. No longer allowed to become Jedi. Instead, they were sent to work elsewhere, under the supervision of the Order.”

“Work?” she asks, tense. “They failed, and they weren’t sent home?” 

He feels a bitter smile infect his frown and doesn’t fight it. “Too dangerous, when touched by the force, to be let loose on the universe. And because we were all taken as young, young children---many didn’t know they could simply leave.”

He almost laughs. 

“Many,” he adds, “Even if they knew they could, had nothing to their name, and no way to contact the family they were taken from. We’re not allowed possessions, in the Order, and absolutely no contact with family. I still don’t know if mine are alive. I wouldn’t know how to contact them, if they were.”

A bitter anger runs under that thought. A hurt, like betrayal, in his heart---but he also understands. He wants to think, to believe, that his birth family had no choice---that they sent him to The Order for a better life. Many were taken because, no matter what, it guarantees a better life.

Or it did, before... before the end.

Parja sets down her tool, and shifts on her stool to look at him fully. 

“You have a family now,” she says. She looks down, to the ground, and back up at him as another crack of lightning, then thunder, booms outside. “But I’m sure if you asked Mereel…” 

“I don’t want to,” he says, firm. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to.” 

She purses her lips and nods, and doesn’t say whatever it is she’s thinking though he can see she’s thinking something. She’ll probably gnaw on it for a few days, and then blurt it out the next time he visits the shop, and…

And Bardan finds he’s perfectly happy with waiting until then. 

“I’m free of the manipulation,” he says, unable and unwilling to hold the bitterness from his tone. “Free from having the phantom of failure wielded as a whip. And free from simply accepting that the death of good men should not somehow weigh on my conscience.”

Free, he thinks, from having the threat of attachments being found out, used against him, to keep him isolated and placid and content. Complicit. 

Parja places a hand on the speeder beside her, and beckons him look at it. He rises from the chaise to join her. 

“This speeder,” she says as she gently pats the top edge of the dented, rusted metal, “once belonged to a well known racer in the underground circuits, in Nar Shaddaa.” 

“It’s a long way from Nar Shaddaa,” he says, surprised. 

She smiles at him. “This racer pushed this poor speeder beyond its limitations. Do you see this damage, here?” Her gloved hands trace the places where the metal curls outwards, as if burst from the inside out. “And here?” 

Bardan looks at the damage. “I do.”

“Sometimes,” she says, “when pushed too hard, too far, for too long---with no stops in between---the speeder will respond in any way it can to release the tension.” 

She doesn’t explain, and he doesn’t need her to. 

“The driver died,” she continues. “This speeder would have been left in a junk pile, if not for someone who saw its beauty, its real potential, under all its supposed failures, and rescued it. She brought it here, to me, and asked for me to restore it in whatever way I see fit.”

Parja, proud in her talents, in her ability, and her side projects, gently pats the speeder. “But I’m not fixing it up to race, because it was never meant to race. It was meant to ride, and to duck in and out between the trees.” 

And she looks at him. “And there are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.”

He looks at the speeder. 

There are no trees on Nar Shaddaa.

“Am I really helping,” he asks, “coming here, and lying on your couch while you work?”

“Yes. More than you know.” She reaches out, and gently takes his hand in hers. “More than you can know.” 

She squeezes his hand, and then lets him go.

He lingers, unsure, but stands after a moment passes and returns to the couch. He sits down, first, and watches her attention pull away from him to return to her project. He watches her begin her work, sensing it’ll be some time before she’ll want to talk again, and takes a moment to breathe. To think. To settle.

And then he lies back down, one hand behind his head and another on his chest, and watches the ceiling lights sway as the storm outside rages on.

[migleefulmoments]

I feel like we should go back and find their comments on how gorgeous Darren looked when he wore that "puke green" jacket. I'm sure they're out there somewhere. Funny how it's suddenly hideous bc Mia is wearing it.

I actually thought the same thing so when you wrote this I did go check Abby’s and Mleigh69′s blogs and nothing.  No comments about his clothing at all. There were lots of the generic “he looks so sad...my heart is breaking” nonsense and this from Abby. ��

So I made a promise to myself recently to keep my blog focused on happy things and reasons why I believe in CrissColfer.  

But today my heart is breaking and I needed to say something on the off chance that anybody that matters or has control might be listening.  Because I feel like I am watching one of the people I admire most in the world being stripped of his soul and I don’t know how much longer I can continue to watch this train wreck. (wash-rinse-repeat)  Before I go on, I realize I care way too much about a person I have literally spoken to twice, for maybe, if I include the conversation he had with my friend, 5 minutes in total.  But I do. And the reason I care is that Darren has provided me with so much entertainment over the past 5 years and has continued to blow we away with his talent and truly believe, if allowed, the places he will go are limitless. (Oh, well as long as you think he’s limitless than please, speak up, bitch about what you don’t like about his life.  He’s listening)  And when I feel like his talent has been sidelined and his value as a commodity has become more important, not to mention getting press and PR for his beard, a person whose name would not be known if not for him, I become enraged. So since I woke up at 3 AM  (She’s been waking up and checking tumblr since 2015) and made the mistake of checking Tumblr to see if he appeared, I have felt sad and angry.  And no this anger is not directed at Darren, I still support him 100% and cannot imagine what it must be like to live his life, it is directed at the people controlling his life and playing games with it. (It’s never directed at Darren. She hates everything he does but it’s never his fault.) 

And I want to say to the powers that be, that my voice matters and that I support him regardless of his sexuality.  I buy tickets, I saw How to Succeed, A Starkid Show (where literally I was the oldest person without a child), Listen Up (2x), Hedwig (2x), Elsie, Gross Indecency and  I have tickets to the Alan Cumming Show in February.  Not to mention I have seen every episode of Glee despite the fact that it suffered so much creatively and forced myself to watch AHS to support him.  So my voice should be heard just as loud and clear as the hand full of people who will not accept him for anything but straight. (Darren’s life is a choose-your-adventure game and fans get a say.  also Abby watched all of glee AND AHS so she gets extra credit).  

And last night was a complete and utter failure First, there was NO purpose for him being there (He attended a fundraiser...there was plenty of purpose for him being there)  He was not an announced performer or presenter (People actually attend to give their support and money-I know, shocking).  Therefore the sole purpose was to place him on a red carpet and once again, remind us that he has a girlfriend (UGH).  

And then there was the interview, which could have been worse, but it certainly wasn’t good. Trevor is about youth advocacy, agreed, but about LGBT+ youth and I know Darren knows that and to diminish that is to take something away from the cause.  And I know Darren is passionate about this cause.  But I am certain he was briefed before the event on how to answer questions and to steer any conversation away that may even hint that he is anything but straight (which I believe completely, the evidence is there based on his words and actions).(What kind of weird dystopian world exists in your head Abby? Who in the world would “brief him” on what to say at an event? He’s a grown man..he decides what he wants to say). 

But what is bothering me so much isn’t the charade.  If I truly believed that this was what Darren wanted and needed and that it was good for his career, I would keep my mouth shut. B/c he is a 28 year man, and while I may not agree, he is entitled to make the decisions that he feels are best for himself and his career. (But what could he possible do to convince you? There is nothing because you rewrite, belittle, and deconstruct everything he does say to prove you wrong).

But instead, what we are watching is an utter and complete train wreck.   We are watching a man, who has not had a project of value to focus on in over 2 months, being paraded from event to event.  His eyes are utterly and completely lifeless and void.  His smile has become so fake and sad.  I don’t see how anyone who is watching this does not see how he is being destroyed.  And yes, I know he has a private life, and I am thankful for that, but no matter how amazing that may be (and I agree with many who have said this over the past 12 hours, this is NOT about shipping) he is literally at an event 5 or 6 nights a week, pretending to be a person he is not, generally accompanied by a person I can tell he is not comfortable with.  

So to me, last night, was a loss.  The only thing that was accomplished is that once again, fans that are invested and truly care about him, have been isolated.  (always about Abby.  The event was a Trevor Live fundraiser- it wasn’t a loss).

And I do ask the question, why?  I do believe the Darren we saw during Hedwig, was the true Darren as much as he can be while maintaining a public persona (including PR and bearding).  This was a man thriving, who prouldy wore nail polish,  was not afraid to participate in Pride and wear a sticker that said “God Mad Me Perfect” and to make the Col-Fur joke on a nightly basis.  

I have to wonder if he was sent to Italy for7 weeks to distance himself from the Hedwig Darren to the Darren PR thinks they need to make money.  B/c since his return, the bearding and the PR Darren has been non-stop and it is painful to watch.  And it needs to stop.

Darren, I know you troll Tumblr and I know you read these things, I really hope you know that there are so many people who support and love and accept you. And maybe Hollywood is not the place for you right now, but I now Broadway would embrace you with open arms.  And yes, I understand there is a contract.  And I am not asking for you to reveal the truth or do anything that would be harmful or interfere with your personal life and relationships (regardless of who they are with). But there has to be a way that you can comply with the terms and conditions of that contract without causing serious damage to your mental health.

So I say, Bravo Ricky, Bravo PR, Bravo Fox, Bravo Ryan and Bravo Mia.  I hope you are all happy that you are contributing to what I see as the destruction of an incredibly talented, beautiful soul.

Off my soap box, done with my rant, I will try to go back to keeping my blog drama free, but this needed to be said.

[flannelpunkcalum]

The Devil Wears Kevlar - Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

ok technically it’s thursday my dudes but I had to flesh the chapter out a little at the last minute bc I decided you guys deserved another 300 words on this beautiful May night. and yes I KNOW calum’s head is cut off in the photo it’s VAGUELY SYMBOLIC and I didn’t feel like finding another picture also content warning for violence (again) like and subscribe!

“Aspen.” Liam says. His fingers tighten a little in her hair, trying to direct her gaze. “Aspen.”

But there’s nothing he can do. Aspen looks loosely over his shoulder, sees it on the concrete floor in front of her, laid out like a crime show murder board. The killer’s not someone in spandex with a bad temper. He’s a businessman with a drive for power and people like Liam who will make it happen for him.

Liam. How did he become this… this chimera of corporate and old fashioned violence? She meets his brown eyes. She had thought they were warm, once.

He’s still kneeling by her side, making her neck ache with the force of his grip. “Hey.” He says. He doesn’t know what to do, either. “Just - just talk to me. Who’s it gonna hurt? What time does he get to work? Hey, McMichael. It’s gonna be alright. Just -” He sighs. “I don’t want to hit you again.”

“So don’t.” Aspen surprises herself. She doesn’t know where that came from, she had been meaning to bite her tongue until they ripped it out. But when Liam met her eyes, let go and stood up, he was fucked up. She could see it. And she grabbed on to that shred of weakness. “Let’s go. Hood likes me, and if you - if you get me out of here I can get him to help you too -”

“Shut up.”

“- and we can just go, get out of Gotham and -” This time, Aspen saw Liam wind up to hit her and she squeezed her eyes shut before his open hand made contact. It was worse, knowing it was coming - even as her head snapped to the side again the image of Liam standing over her like that burned on the inside of her eyelids. “Fuck.” She groaned lowly, turning her head and rubbing her aching cheek on her shoulder.

“I’m done playing.” Liam says, pacing in front of her. Maybe he’ll get so worked up he’ll just walk out one of the open windows and fall to his death. He doesn’t, though. He grabs the back of her chair and starts dragging her backwards towards one of the gaping spaces in the walls, and then Aspen panics. She flings her weight around, grunting, trying to knock the chair out of his grip, but he just grabs on with his second hand and keeps dragging her at a forty-five across the floor. Fuck. Fuck. The sound of the metal of the chair against the concrete floor is like horror movie foley, it feels so loud. Aspen gasps for breath as Liam stops, pushing the chair so it jolts back to upright. The wind is stronger here. She can feel the ledge like the edge of a knife behind her.

Liam’s not going to kill her. Falcone knows she’s here, if she dies he’ll be mad at Liam and he’ll be in even more trouble. He’s not going to kill her. He’s not.

Liam spins her chair around easily, to make her look at him. His back is to the window, and she thinks if her ankles weren’t chained she could have kicked him just right. He could have fallen out to his death like a Disney villain. “Tell me now.” He says, clapping on his hand on her face, on the cheek still hot with pain. “Tell me everything you fucking know about Hood or I’ll drop you.”

Fear makes Aspen stupid. “You won’t.”

Liam doesn’t smile. It looks like a smile, but it’s like the blade of a scythe on his face. “No?”

He’s a big guy, but Liam moves fast when he wants to. And he wants to. He gets behind her, even while she’s thrashing against the chains, and grabs the back. She can feel the shapes of his knuckles behind her as he moves her the two feet, towards the edge - he’s not gonna kill her, he’s not he’s not he’s not - and he pushes.

Aspen screams. She can feel her body drop for an inch or two until the chains catch it - but Liam doesn’t kill her. He’s just tilted the chair so she’s dangling out the window. But there’s wind on her face, and she can see headlights tracing themselves below her on the city streets. For one terrible moment, she can see herself falling, ragdoll-like, dropping on top of one of those cars. A dent like a crater in some BMW’s roof. Liam’s talking, she realizes. He’s yelling. “Start fucking talking!”

“I don’t know!” Aspen yells, just on instinct. “I - you know when Calum gets in to work. It’s eight thirty. Liam, stop this!”

“Finally have something to say, huh?” The chair tips forwards even more. The ends of the legs slip a fraction of an inch. Aspen screams again, a strangled little whimper. She tried to remember how she was tied to the chair. How likely it was that she’d slip. “What else?”

“I don’t know!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, I know you write it down!”

Aspen can barely hear him over the wind and blood rushing through her ears. “I can’t - just stop and I’ll tell you!”

The chair doesn’t pull back. She’s still dangling, her eyes still fixed on the headlights below. “Tell me what his lunch plans are.” Liam growls, and she swears she feels the legs of the chair slip a millimeter closer to the edge. 

Bar Mercutio with the head of Hood Auto. The answer is right on her tongue. She opens her mouth -

“Liam.”

Aspen gets yanked back inside so fast it almost makes her dizzy. Her back slams against the chair but she’s thankful for the sting. She’s alive and upright and sweat is coating her like a second skin and she’s alive.

“Liam, that’s no way to treat a guest.”

Wait. She knows that voice.

She’s still catching her breath, but she hears Liam behind her, stepping away from her chair. “She’s not cooperating, Don Falcone.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place.” Aspen doesn’t dare look over her shoulder. She hears some meaty thud, knuckles on some soft body part, and she hears Liam try to swallow a groan.

If that’s how Falcone treats his fucking employees, what’s he gonna do to her?

She hears “Angelo, bring her over,” and she hates that all she can do is sit there and listen to heavy footsteps on the concrete floor before she feels knuckles on the back of the chair and she’s being dragged again. This time, she doesn’t bother to thrash and struggle. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Her body is heavy with fear. 

The chair gets swung around and rattles to stillness in front of Falcone, who looks almost exactly as polished as he did in Calum’s office that morning all those weeks ago. At least he’s giving her a little respect before she dies.

Because that’s what happens next. Of course it is. She knows Liam’s working for him, knows Falcone is behind all the CEO killings - she doesn’t know why, to fill the power vacuum or something, but it doesn’t matter. Calum’s next and she knows when he’s going to be alone, or in transit, or whenever you kidnap someone, and they’re gonna hurt her until she tells them and then they’re gonna kill her.

No one even knows she’s missing, for chrissake.

“Hello again, little girl.”

Aspen bites down on the inside of her lower lip to keep herself from crying. “Don Falcone.” She says, after a long moment.

“I hear you’ve been uncooperative tonight.”

She knows it’s stupid, but in her terror she tries lying again. “I don’t know his schedule off by heart, I’m sorry.” Her voice is slick with fear, she can hear it.

Don Falcone doesn’t even raise his eyebrows. “Not very good at your job, then, are you, my dear?”

“I-I guess not.”

“Hmm.” He says, pulling a white piece of paper from his pocket. Aspen’s heart sinks as she recognizes it. It’s the schedule he stole all those weeks ago from Calum’s office, dog-eared and battered by now. He wants her to know he knows she’s lying, she can tell from the little look he gives her over the top of the page. Her chest heaves. Fuck. “You should have talked to Liam,” He says, folding the paper and putting it back into his pocket. “I might have let him keep you. Oh, we could have gone far together, Ms. McMichael.”

Aspen doesn’t say anything. She becomes aware of Liam lurking in a dimly lit patch of the room, but she can’t take her eyes of Falcone. Keep him talking, a little voice whispers. Evil monologue. If he’s talking, he can’t hurt you. “What would you want with me?” She says, and she doesn’t have to try to make her voice shake.

“A woman of your talents? All manner of things,” He says. “I’m a businessman, same as Mr. Hood. I always need people like you, loyal people. Look at Liam. I need him same as I need men like Angelo here. It’s not like the old days, little girl.” He checks his watch, like this is a meeting running a hair too long. “I don’t have to bribe the police anymore. I am the police.”

“What I don’t understand -” And Aspen knows this is risky, showing her hand, but Falcone obviously intends to kill her and she’ll take every second she has left - “what I don’t understand is why. Sionis and Trident and- and Mr. Hood, what did they have that you needed? You rule Gotham -”

“I don’t rule Gotham. Yet. But I will. Fear is a powerful tool. You’ll see.” Falcone jerks his chin at the man standing behind her, the one who dragged her in here again, and he squats to the floor. Aspen looks to see him rolling out a leather knife roll, like chefs carry, but the metal that catches her eye is glinting off pliers, and then a hammer, and next to that is a scalpel, and she can’t look anymore. With a small sound she turns her eyes back to Falcone, who watches her like a hawk as she licks her lips. “Once the Gotham elite are pissing their designer suits, they’ll be desperate for any solution. And I’ve built myself a reputation for running a tight operation. It’s one thing to take control, but it’s much more delicious to have it handed to you.” 

“So why Calum?” 

“Calum?” Fuck. Falcone leans down until his eyes are level with hers, putting his hands on his knees for support. Aspen tries very hard not to squirm. “Is that why you’re holding your tongue?” He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, soft and moist like a toad’s belly. At this point, she didn’t have the control to try and hide her revulsion. His thumb rests on her cheekbone, dangerously close to the whiteness of her eye. “So sweet, thinking of him in your last moments. I promise you, he won’t return the gesture.” 

Aspen felt the remnants of champagne toss in her belly. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it? Pathetic. 

“Look at you. Loyal as a dog.” He said, patting her cheek twice - well, it was closer to a slap - before he let her go and straightened up. “What did he do to deserve you, hm? All he had to do was reach up your skirt, and -” 

“It’s not like that. You’re wrong.” Aspen said, curling her hands into useless fists. 

“Am I?” Falcone smiled. It was worse than his disdain. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you see him one more time before I have you killed. You’d make such a pretty picture, you two lovers, yes? The intrepid little secretary, gutted like a fish. Like a sweet promise on the other side.”

Aspen swallowed hard. She wished she had a watch. Play for time, play for time. It was just - this was impossible to ignore. “You’re a poet.” She managed around the bad taste in her mouth. 

“Of course. I don’t enjoy this.” Oh, he did, he clearly did, looking down at her, watching her test her chains like a moth jerking on a pin. “I’m not a violent man, sweetheart. I have Angelo for that.” 

She really was going to throw up. This abject fucking man. “So why Calum, then? I’m sure having his net worth parceled off into a trust for the kid isn’t in your best interest.”

Don Falcone eyed her for a second, and for a moment fear tightened like a fist around her lungs. He knew she was trying to waste his time. But after a moment, he let himself answer. After all, she was going to be dead within the hour. “Oh, I don’t need his money now. After his gala? After everything he’s done for the city? His death will be the tipping point. No, no. He could never be the first, either. You see that.” 

“Of course.” She did understand. Calum’s d- fuck, she couldn’t even think the word, but it had to be the climax, not the overture. 

He glances at his watch again, then back at her wan little face. Aspen knows with cold certainty that this is it. “I’ve done enough talking. It’s your turn, my dear.”

Is she really gonna let herself go through this? Keep playing dumb? Her mom is gonna be so sad, she realized, when they can’t have an open casket, and she has to gasp for air for a second. “No, wait, please, I - I can’t tell you anything, I’m so sorry. I don’t know anything!” she hears herself babbling, some small part of her making the choice for her. These minutes of life are precious, even if they’re going to hurt.

Falcone’s not even listening, she realizes, as he talks over her. He’s still so fucking cool, even while he’s figuring out where to dump her body. “Angelo, the ear, I think.” He says, and Aspen breaks as he grabs a handful of her hair and hauls it out off the right side of her face. She’s gone weak - she thinks she’s saying wait, wait, no, please - but he’s not listening. He’s not listening. “Maybe you’ll behave better once you know I’m serious. Don’t bite your tongue, please, or you’ll be no more use to me.” Aspen’s crying again now, she can’t help it, her heart is pounding in her ears - fuck - and the grip in her hair gets tighter until she thinks if she moves he’ll rip it out. Her head is locked in his grip and braced against his body, he smells like leather and something mechanical, she can’t escape it this close. Out of the corner of her eye she sees something silver glint at her like teeth. No. No. No.

That thing about knives being too sharp to hurt? That’s bullshit.

She feels it slip through the first layers of skin, body jolting despite the hold he has on her. And then it starts to /hurt/ and then he meets the cartilage and he has to saw for every millimeter and she can feel the movement go through her body. There’s blood trickling down the side of her face now. Through her blurry vision, she sees Falcone in front of her, and she doesn’t need to see his face to know he is unmoved.

And then she sees something else.

It happens like this - all at once. Cause and effect jumbled.

Someone all in black comes through the window she was dangled out of.

The grip on her hair eases.

Something flies through the air with a shriek.

Something clicks with electricity. It smells like ozone.

Aspen turns to look.

And the knife slips.

[flying-elliska]

salut ellie! someone once asked you about your writing and you recommended falling in love with language and finding ways of writing you love. i was wondering, what books and/or writing styles are you in love with? it's just so interesting to know what somehow had an impact on the way you're writing bc i honestly adore your style

wow do you remember that ? that is such a flattering question oh my god. well, i’m still working on it. some of my favorites are (i’m very eclectic lmao) : 

- His Dark Materials (it’s a fantasy book series ‘for kids’ but it’s actually insanely deep and philosophic) is pretty much the first book series that made me fall in love with stories, and made me want to write. I think I found it when I was 10, and it completely shaped me. It’s so ambitious and clever, it never talks down to the reader, brings up those amazing worlds and philosophical concepts and is still accessible to kids. Most of all it is so committed to atmosphere, to making it vivid, to really make you go through what the characters are. I’m thinking of it and I can remember exactly certain passages in an almost sensory way : the witch Serafina Pekkala describing what it feels like to feel the Aurora Borealis on her bare skin as she is flying through the arctic. The polar bear Iorek giving Lyra frozen moss to help bandage his wounds after a battle. The grilled poppy heads that the Jordan College scholars at Oxford eat during a meeting. The little Gallivespians on their dragonflies and the way the sun reflects off their poisonous spurs. That’s how you make a story stick ; that’s how you can put in deep stuff without ever making it boring. I am so excited they’re making a tv series because that shit deserves some recognition. And I mean the whole plot about the importance of stories, free will, the horror of religious fundamentalism....always relevant. Philip Pullman’s stuff is great in general, I love his Sally Lockhart series, which is more adult and adventure focused, and is a great deal of fun. And of course, the sequel to HDM he’s been putting out recently. 

- I spent a lot of my teen years reading either crime novels or historical novels. (When I think of some of the stuff I read when I was 13 I’m like oh my god what were my parents doing lmao some of that was really horrible.) And I think it gave me a good feeling for suspense and setting, and how important tension is. One of my all time faves is Andrea Japp. She is a French writer who does mostly crime, involving complex/monstrous woman characters and a very sensory, poetic approach to language, often involving food, plants and poisons. My favorite by her is the “Season of the Beast”/Agnès de Souarcy chronicles, which is a crime series set in medieval times, with a cool independent lady at its core, crimes in a monastery, and this very gloomy end of times vibe that I love. I also read a lot of Scandi Noir stuff, I love the kind of ...laconic approach to life. And again : vibe. Vibe is so important. And Sherlock Holmes stories. I love the Mary Russell series that take place in that universe and are basically a big Mary Sue self insert guilty pleasure but are just. So much fun. 

- I like poetry a lot - not stuff that is too wordy, but something short, sharp and vivid. i think reading poetry is essential to feeding your inner ‘metaphor culture’. I love Mary Oliver. Rimbaud, too, that I read at 17 and rocked my world. One of my underrated faves is  Hồ Xuân Hương, a Vietnamese poet from the 18th century who was adept at using nature metaphors to hide both erotic stuff, irreverent jokes, and political criticism, and correspond with all the great scholars of her time under a pseudonym. Badass.  Recently I bought ‘Soft Science’ by Franny Choi, which is about cyborgs, having a female body, emotions and politics and it’s absolutely brilliant. 

- I love reading fairy tales, too. Currently reading (i always read a lot of books at once lol) Angela Carter’s Book of Fairy Tales, basically fairy tales for grown ups, collected from folklore all over the world, with an amazing kind of gruesome humor and wisdom. Norse mythology is also so damn funny. That one bit with Thor dressing up as a bride or Loki’s shenanigans...amazing. And I like fantasy, I find it very soothing to read for some reason, my fave has to be Robin Hobb and her Realm of the Elderlings series. And Terry Pratchett, especially the series with Death or the Witches. Just brilliant. Neil Gaiman too. 

- I tend to be very impatient when it comes to literary fiction, I find a lot of it is self-indulgent, dreary. I’m a genre reader through and through, I need to be amazed. I loved ‘the Elegance of the Hedgehog’ by Muriel Barbery though. Some stuff by Amélie Nothomb, Virginie Despentes occasionally (they’re French writers with a very dark, wry approach to life, tho the first is more polished acid and the second very punk rock). And ‘Special Topics in Calamity Physics’ by Marisha Pessl is pretentious as hell but a lot of fun, if you like dark academia. Salman Rushdie has a way with language that is amazing. 

- I read a lot of non-fiction. At the moment : the Cabaret of Plants (about the symbolic/socio historical meaning of plants and how they shaped history) by Richard Mabey and ‘Feminist Fight Club’ by Jessica Bennett. One I absolutely love is ‘the Botany of Desire’ by Michael Pollan in which he traces the history of four plant species (apple, potato, cannabis, tulip) and how they impacted us as much as we impacted them. I was obsessed with plants for most of my life as you can see lol (my mother is a herbalist and I wanted to become a botanist for quite a while.). Also philosophy/anthropology in little bits. I love Tim Ingold. Things about witches. Anything by Rebecca Solnit is incredible. 

- I’ve been reading a lot of YA recently, because it’s fun and quick and keeps me reading, and has a lot of good female characters. Big fave recently : Jane Unlimited by Kristin Cashore. It’s about a young bisexual woman who’s grieving and comes to this weird house full of doors, each of which leads to a different path in life, and we follow her through each choice she can potentially make, each of one becomes a different genre of story : creepy ghost story, spy story, sci-fi, cute romance, etc. It’s so innovative and it’s a story that is also bisexual culture at its core. Also I absolutely love love love love love (etc forever) the Raven Cycle series by Maggie Stiefvater. What she does with language is just so cool, because she stays simple and efficient but uses her metaphors in such a fulgurant, vivid way. Some of her lines are just. bam! genius. #goals. Also Ronan Lynch is probably THE character that helped me the most with my coming out. He’s one of my forever faves.  Of course Harry Potter, lmao, I was of the generation that pretty much grew up with him, the last book came out when I was 17. JK Rowling really should just stop rn. But I learned so much from those, about the importance of making your story feel like home, and having a clear emotional journey. And Harry is such a sarcastic little shit, I love him. And I love a Series of Unfortunate Events too, the darkly funny tone of it, the celebration of knowledge and resilience. 

- I think in terms of the classics (I had to read in school lmao), I do like Victor Hugo a lot even though some of his stuff just doesn’t fucking stop. I also like Balzac and his Comédie Humaine, he’s very observant, mean and funny when it comes to people (even though it’s depressing.) Colette is my grandma’s fave writer and she is a rockstar, I love her (also hella bi culture). Jane Austen is great, I read Pride and Prejudice in one night straight, I was so hooked. Love Jane Eyre too. I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac while hopped up on opioid pain killers and that’s probably the only way to appreciate it, but it did mark me.  

- But to be completely fucking candid, I probably read the most fanfic nowadays still. Esp since I got to college, I need to unwind when I read, and having characters you already know can be so comforting. Now, of course, there’s a lot of fanfic that is just fluff (nothing wrong with that) but I honestly really believe in the literary value of fanfic. Because some of that shit simply just really slaps and is well written. But also as a genre on its own : you just simply don’t get so much emotional nuance, and depth in most other things. Because these are characters we already know and the writers are not afraid to be self-indulgent and plot is secondary, we see shades of things that we never see anywhere else, we see relationships developping in the small things and wow that shit is breathtaking, bro, sometimes. The art of infinite variation on a theme. Even though a lot of fic writers could use a bit of stricter editing, and do stuff a bit too many unnecessary details in here, so does Victor Hugo soooooooo....

lol i could go on forever. i love book soooo much. uni kinda killed my reading appetite, I used to read several books a week when I was in middle school. hope i can get back there (although maybe not as much bc i have a life now lol.) but thinking about everything i have yet to read makes me sooooo happy. I want to get more into sci-fi, English lit classics. Basically I like stuff that’s witty, dark, political, hedonistic, with dry humor, but a warm heart. Stories that celebrate knowledge, curiosity and human weirdness. And that gets to the point. When I get bored by a book, I put it down, because I just don’t have the time. I also hate writers where you can tell that they think they’re better than other people. Misanthropy is boring. Thank you for this question anon I had a blast

[thegeminisage]

i have deep and conflicting thots about the gilli episode (3.11)

they’re long (they’re LONG!!!) so here’s a cut. you’re welcome

good things:

this is the ANTITHESIS to everything i was complaining about last night. this is what i was CRAVING. this show did me so good (and yet, so bad - more on that in a sec)

there was a touch of outside pov here (my weakness) since we got to see who merlin was from gilli’s point of view

and when i say we got to see who merlin was i mean we really for real got to SEE WHO HE WAS oh babey

something gilli said in this episode was that merlin has been pretending so long he forgot who he was and i think similarly he pretends so well that we the audience (me anyway) also kind of forget who he is because we see it SO rarely

but we saw it here! in this episode merlin was SMART?? those aren’t two words i’d normally use in the same sentence without sticking a “is not” between them but he WAS - he cottoned on right away that gilli was using magic, he confronted him immediately and in a way that didn’t invoke hostility (and what a nice little flip, what a TREAT to see someone else freaking out and covering their ass while merlin is keeping his cool), (some of) his normal little jabs at arthur were a tad wryer/slyer on the delivery, and he figured out, ON HIS OWN, how to save both gilli and uther, and used his magic in front of ALL THOSE PEOPLE without getting caught

and speaking of that, merlin being like “he’s braver than me, using magic in front of all those people” and gaisu going “brave or stupid” like... ok, at first my reaction was: come on, merlin uses magic in front of people ALL THE TIME...but when i think about it, my very own self was complaining just yesterday that he was keeping his shit buttoned up way too tightly. and i did notice merlin himself waiting until backs were turned more often, incantating aloud less often...he ACTUALLY HAS gotten less stupid, JUST a smidgen. i didn’t even realize

merlin seemed more grown-up and serious in this episode than he has in the entire series. maybe it’s the fact that he had someone younger and dumber to play off of (and i don’t think gilli was a strong enough character to carry an episode, but maybe it was enough to give us an excuse to develop merlin so much) but he did in fact seem WISE, and he seemed TIRED, which is a thing grownups usually are... the way he talked to the other characters seemed different too - he spoke to the dragon as an equal (last dragon & last dragonlord), not as some dumbass in over his head asking for help (very nice also that he didn’t go to gaius for advice but someone more on “his level”). he gave arthur clear and frank advice on how to go about fighting his dad, he STUCK UP FOR GILLI AGAINST GAIUS (backbone! compassion!) and then STUCK UP FOR HIMSELF against gilli!!!!!

(i like a slightly more serious merlin because while quirky dumbass country hick merlin IS charming and endearing that charm can only carry him so far without more meat involved, especially after some of the terrible things we’ve seen him suffer through and all the experiences he’s had to grow and change)

i have mixed feelings about merlin showing his magic to this particular person at this particular time, but i do also like that he was willing to open up about WHO HE IS if it could potentially save a life. that shows backbone. and it shows integrity. two things i was sorely missing from merlin before now

speaking of merlin’s integrity, we finally got to cover why he keeps saving uther, who he should hate and despise and want dead, which i have been DYING for

merlin and gilli have a sort of professor x/magneto stance about uther, by which i mean one of them argues that they should change things from within the system to court goodwill and avoid violence because acting violently would just make their detractors’ point for them, and the other argues that the system should be destroyed entirely through any means necessary because violence is the only language the oppressor understands

on a rewatch what really stands out to me is merlin chastising gilli at the end by saying “you’re better than that.” it makes me think of season 1 when merlin had the chance to let morgana’s allies assassinate uther and he asks gwen what he should do - gwen, who also has every reason to hate and despise uther, tells merlin that to allow him to die through inaction would be just as bad as murdering him directly, and that that would make merlin as bad uther is

i don’t want to give the people who fucked morgana over so thoroughly too much credit but it makes me wonder if that wasn’t when merlin decided that he was going to be the bigger man

he says it himself in this episode, near tears - it is LONELY, being what he is, and doing what he does. he could kill a man with a thought and he spends all his time mucking stables and polishing armor and when he gets a break from that it’s to save someone’s life without endangering his own. it is dangerous, tireless work for which he believes he will NEVER get any thanks. and what i was so frustrated about before was not understanding WHY - did he care THAT much about arthur’s feelings, that he couldn’t stand to watch arthur lose a father? was he just THAT afraid of uther and what uther would do to him if he found out?

but i get it now - it’s because he CHOOSES to. not to protect arthur or to protect himself but because he wholly believes that he’s playing the long game and he’s on the correct path to seeing a future where what he is is no longer outlawed - god, his FACE when he says “when that day arrives, we WILL be free” 

again not to overcredit the writers bc i DON’T think they were smart enough to do this on purpose but like in my heart he decided all the way back in season 1 that he wasn’t going to take the easy way out and just let uther die because THAT’S NOT WHAT MAGIC IS FOR. he’s stronger than everyone else around him and HE CHOOSES to keep his head down and wait it out because in his OWN WORDS “magic is not meant to bring you glory.” even gilli agrees - when used for personal gain, it is very easy for the power of the magic to corrupt. i thought merlin was weak, to have saved uther’s life so many times - but to resist that kind of temptation and corruption over and over, he’s actually the opposite. he doesn’t try so hard to protect the monarchy because he lacks self-respect or integrity, he protects the monarchy BECAUSE OF his self-respect and integrity. all along, he’s been fighting for a better future too - just in his way, not the way gilli or morgana would

and speaking of morgana...here’s the bad:

i. am. LIVID!!!!!

that merlin would tell this boy he BARELY KNOWS his secret in order to maybe possibly save this kid’s life and NOT TELL MORGANA in her worst hour of need when she most needed a friend

merlin got a whole lot more respect from me today but the fact remains that he’s a LYING LIAR WHO LIES and he has tried to kill morgana two and a half times (the poison, the bump on the head, knocking her off her horse) and as of the end of season 3 also MURDERED HER SISTER THAT IS APPARENTLY ALSO LOWKEY HER GIRLFRIEND (i know)

which really clashes with his whole deal that i just described above, of using his magic for good and not evil purposes, for trying to win over hearts instead of win battles. and it’s funny that it’s ONLY morgana that merlin acts out of character for...i think it’s because! and this is a crazy concept! the writers hate morgana!

morgana in season 1 and most of season 2 was a kind and loving person. she was a true ally to gwen and often used her status as the king’s ward to stand up for gwen when gwen was in trouble. the first time she tried to have uther killed it was because of what happened to gwen’s father. she was more than capable of feeling love and knowing right from wrong and doing what she believed was right at any cost as evidenced by her helping to sneak the little druid kid out of the castle at risk to herself

morgana in season 3 does nothing but smirk evilly. and while it’s a good look on her and she’s MORE than valid in wanting to fuck up merlin and uther and maybe even arthur too from a certain viewpoint her aggression against gwen is ENTIRELY unwarranted

even trying my BEST to be sympathetic towards her and remember what she’s gone through and that her bad characterization is the fault of the writers and not morgana herself it is VERY hard not to hate her when you see her delighting in gwen’s misery and watching her PANIC about gwen’s future as the queen was FAR more satisfying than it should have been because i was then delighting in MORGANA’S misery and that is NOT a feeling im comfy with

in fact! im furious! the fact that this gilli kid got a more sympathetic portrayal than morgana ever will makes me SEE RED!!! imagine if the professor x/magneto vibe had been played out with merlin and morgana throughout the entirety of season 3! imagine morgana still had feelings other than ~edgy evulz~ and kept trying to kill uther BECAUSE SHE BELIEVED IT WAS RIGHT but had no quarrel with people like gwen who had always loved her! imagine her being conflicted when there was every chance that gwen would die during the takeover! imagine how her feelings could have become even more complicated when she found out she had living family - a father and brother, one of whom she is plotting to kill! imagine her NOT wanting harm to come to gwen or arthur and trying to persuade them to her side with good yet flawed arguments! imagine uther having to face the fact that the daughter he dotes on is also the thing he hates! people talk about arthur’s conflict if he realizes merlin is magic, but he’s known merlin a lot less time than he’s known morgana and merlin’s not his sister, imagine arthur had to deal with that conflict of interests! we could have HAD IT ALL in season 3 and instead season 3 MOSTLY SUCKS

what if morgana had remembered how fucked up arthur was about learning about the true circumstances of his birth? what if she had persuaded him that uther’s stance against magic was wrong? what if she knew merlin had magic but she hated him so she blackmailed him with it? he could have told her and then spent the ENTIRETY of season 3 shitting himself about it and it would have TOTALLY JUSTIFIED how shifty he got later after gaius taught him how to lie.what if he had SEEN what choosing to hurt other people had wrought in morgana and truly felt remorse and it informed his character for the rest of the show and that’s why he’s always choosing the moral high ground! there were SO MANY possibilities that could have opened up by having morgana be even just a little bit 3-dimensional!!!

which brings me to my next complaint: as good as this episode was, as much as i loved it, as glad as i am to finally understand merlin or at the very least have an interpretation of him i’m happy with, i should not have had to wait ALL SEASON to get there. i know what kind of show this is but they could have slipped some of this stuff in WAY EARLIER so i didn’t have to spent the entirety of season 3 and quite a lot of season 2 thinking merlin was just some spineless fuckup

also i will say it again, gilli was NOT strong enough to have carried this episode. the work on merlin’s character was INCREDIBLE and it was fun enough to see gilli mirror who he was in early season 1 but imagine how much better it could have been if he’d gotten to play off of someone like morgana - gilli’s a one-off character, and he has to tell us about his history and struggles, but morgana’s struggle is something we’ve witnessed firsthand. when she makes her own arguments about how hard it is to be magic under uther’s rule it comes from a place of deep pain that could have and should have resonated with merlin just as deeply as gilli’s.

morgana works MUCH better as a foil to merlin because all the way back in season 1 when they were both angry on gwen’s behalf and both wanted uther to pay for what he’d done so that no more innocent people would die it was MORGANA who chose the magneto route and merlin who decided to go professor x. they had the potential to make something REALLY COOL out of that AND THEY DIDN’T and what makes me so mad about this episode is that the sheer CONCEPT of this was good enough to have carried the entire season and yet they crammed it into a single 45-minute block

here end my thots i guess, in conclusion morgana deserved better