#i had to leave off so many truly beloved artists here

[autisticjoshrusso]

Thanks for the tag! This was hard because my taste is so varied but I finally settled on five that I can accept being "my vibe", not necessarily because I like them more than all the others. (also assume the deluxe versions etc if they exist i always prefer More songs)

thanks for tagging! no pressure tags @lovewithoutresin @anatargmova @lambjock

@rachelgrey ty for the tag bestie

rules: list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists (can't have a repeat of the same artist) on a poll, so your followers can vote which album they think captures your vibe the best.

no pressure/open tags: @firebrand-witch @theladyinwhite13 @weeping-in-the-willows @coffeeisaritual @comedownsoon @animallover4000 @catastrxblues @alltheliars

[l00rem]

Sammy Lawrence character analysis

I had a small epiphany recently about Sammy’s character which just recontextualized his entire character for me and I really wanted to write it down so here’s a mini essay about our beloved musician and prophet :)

I think one of the biggest questions people often have about Sammy as a character is why he never left JDS despite the fact he seemed quite aware of how horrible it was for his mental health and that he had the talent to get a better job. My answer to this is also the main basis of this entire analysis: Sammy is a person who would rather be treated horribly then be useless.

There are many examples of this throughout the entire series. To make things easier, I’ll be going through his character in a mostly chronological order.

Before being hired

To repeat what I said earlier, people find it quite strange that Sammy didn’t leave considering his level of talent and artistic genius. But I think it’s important that we flip this around. If Sammy has so much talent, how come before being hired by Joey he was taking on jobs that he clearly didn’t really want to be doing? To quote one of his scenes at the party:

‘ The man at the piano shook his head. He seemed annoyed.(…) Sammy was not a fan of attention and definitely didn’t like putting on a show like this’

So it’s obvious that performing to audiences isn’t how Sammy wanted to be using his talent. But judging by the amount of praise Joey heaps onto him, he could’ve gotten any job he wanted right?

This is where I’m going to start heading into headcannon territory, because we don’t really know much about Sammy before working with Jack apart from the fact he once worked for the cinema.

I think it’s highly possible that Sammy suffers from the case of being really gifted , but still not good enough. He’s definitely talented, he knows this himself. But for whatever reason he was never good enough to be hired to compose for movies or anything else he seemed he’d rather be doing. Perhaps this was because of his personality putting people off? He’s quite a straightforward guy, I wouldn’t be surprised if his employers didn’t appreciate his unsolicited criticism of their works ( in other words, they can’t handle his autistic swag lmao). In fact, going off of how suspicious and distrusting he is of Joey, Its possible that he’d been tricked or scammed by his past employers. Whatever the reason, it lead to him having to settle for less and not pursue his passion the way he truly wanted to.

This is why I think he’s surprisingly so easily hired by Joey. Sammy continuously acts like he’s disinterested in Joeys offer, even though we know he’s going to be working at this place for the next 16 years of his life. I believe this is because Sammy knows JDS needs him, he is too talented for this place which makes him important. Which means he’s useful and won’t be thrown away. This makes sense when you consider the state the music department is in when Sammy demands to see it.

‘ I opened the door to the small music room. An upright piano and music stand were tightly packed inside, barley able to fit in the space. (…) This definitely did not look impressive.’

The fact that Sammy immediately begins demanding things after seeing it says a lot too. It’s as if he’s immediately pushing to see what Joey will allow, to see how badly he needs him. The more desperate Joey is to hire him, the more safe and secure this job will be for him.

And so he takes as much control as possible, demanding complete creative control over his area. The more he’s responsible for, the more he’s proving himself useful. Even if this will lead to him having waaaay too much work for one person to handle.

Working at JDS

Sammy’s 1935 tape shows us just how much he’s willing to put up with as long as it means he’s useful. He’s completely aware of how overworked he is, but ignores this in favour of ‘ keeping the little devil happy’ which most likely refers to Joey. Despite how much he complains, I think he prides himself on being able to get so much work done in such little time. Perhaps he even sees being overworked as proof that the studio just needs him that much? That he’s that significant to the success of the cartoons? Joey probably also used this tactic to manipulate Sammy, to convince him that he’s only giving him so much work because he trusts and believes in him so much.

I think Joey also figured this out from the way he talks about Sammy in Tiol. In fact it’s as if he’s actively mocking him.

‘ I wouldn’t say I was lucky to get him as part of my team, nor that I’m lucky he’s stayed with me all these years.’

‘I can’t make anyone do anything, even as a boss.’

‘ I’d never trade Sammy Lawrence for anything.’

= ‘ oh yeah he’s really talented and could totally have another job if he wanted but I actually need him and would never throw him away! He totally has the will to leave if he wants to but he stays because he knows he’s wanted here :)’

Jack’s 1943 tape does seem to confirm that the studio needs Sammy. By 1943, bendy wasn’t very relevant. Most people hadn’t really heard about the cartoons. And yet Sammy and Jack were still winning awards for their songs. In Sammy’s mind this probably solidified that the studio needs him. He doesn’t care that Joey took the credit because that’s not what matters to him. Better to know your doing good at your job then to risk upsetting your employer.

It seems he prides himself on being able to take on so much work too. In the employee handbook there’s a newspaper article on how Joey mistreats his employees and here’s what Sammy has to say about it:

‘Some people can’t take it and that’s fine’- he’s highlighting the fact that he is someone who can take it and therefore is useful to the studio. He even seems to be projecting, calling those who drop out ‘ useless’.

I think ‘ love requires sacrifice’ isn’t actually something Sammy made up to appease bendy, it’s something he lived by for most of his life. He’ll sacrifice his entire mental health if it means he’ll be loved in return. Of course, this would later take on a more darker and literal meaning.

In fact, I think there’s another factor that contributed to Sammy not being able to leave. @threadedsafteypin wrote this analysis on how Sammy may have struggled with imposter syndrome:

https://www.tumblr.com/threadedsafetypin/668068661627600896/sammy-lawrence-having-imposter-syndrome-its-more

So this gives him another reason as to why he can’t leave. If he’s working at JDs because it enables him to feel wanted and useful, then quitting because he’s struggling would be literally admitting that there’s an area in music he struggles with. In his mind he’d be proving his insecurities right, that he’s not as amazing and talented as the world thinks he is.

But Sammy had people who cared about him that would’ve been able to prove to him he’s worth more then what he can do for others right? Probably, but I think he failed to see that because of how important it is for him to feel wanted.

Let’s look at his partnership with Jack. I do believe that they truly trusted each other and remained friends during their time at JDS. However, it wouldn’t surprise me if Sammy deliberately distanced himself from Jack. Sure, Jack is one of the few people Sammy seems to actually like, but would he leave Sammy for someone better if he realised how much Sammy was faking it? I doubt it. But Sammy’s fatal flaw is his lack of trust in other people, he’s so paranoid of being worthless in the eyes of other people that he’d rather isolate himself then risk losing them. Especially someone like Jack who is directly linked to him through his talent in music.

Tragically, I think his fallout with Susie would have confirmed this paranoia for him. From his perspective, Susie doesn’t like him anymore because she no longer works for him. He isn’t her boss, isn’t there to direct her anymore and is therefore useless to her. Of course, we know this isn’t the full story. Joey intentionally orchestrated Susie’s firing so that she’d think it was Sammy’s fault. It isn’t that she stopped caring about him because she didn’t need him anymore, it’s because she thought he’d abandoned her. This outcome is very beneficial for Joey, it’ll make Sammy more desperate to seek validation from working for Joey rather then his relationships with other people. So he’ll be more reliant on Joey, no matter how much work is shoved onto him. The moment someone doesn’t need him they’ll cut ties with him, so it’s best to stay with someone who obviously needs him.

Serving the ink demon

Sammy’s devotion to bendy is the best example of how far he’s willing to go to be useful to someone. I think when Sammy accidentally drinks ink for the first time he was actually in a very desperate position. In his letter to Joey at the start of Batdr he seems uncharacteristically worried.

Considering what we’ve established, it makes sense that he’d try to help the studio not shut down. If it does, not only will he lose the place he feels secure in, but it will also show that he wasn’t good enough to keep bendy successful ( this isn’t actually the case, we know it’s all Joeys fault for his spending habits, but I think this is how Sammy would see things).

Furthermore, by the time he gets infected Susie would have been fired for a while and Jack seems very absent in DCTL ( probably because he was murdered by Joey off screen) so Sammy would be lacking what little support system he actually had. Suffice to say, he would not have been doing mentally well.

Sammy knows this company is going down hill, it’s inevitable that it’ll go bankrupt at this point. He’s losing his purpose. Enter the ink demon. A terrifying and powerful being who promises to give him a new use. Sammy says it himself in Dctl:

‘It wanted me. He wanted me.’

‘The more I felt him. Heard him. I need to please him.’

He was so desperate to not be cast aside that he was literally willing to sacrifice his coworkers in order to be of use to someone.

And then he gets sent into the ink realm at some point and the ink demon presumably stops talking to him. He’s lost his purpose but doesn’t even have the option to leave anymore. So no wonder he deludes himself Into thinking bendy will set him free. He basically has no choice, if he faces the reality of his hopeless situation will he even be able to keep going?

He convinces himself that it’s all just a test, he hasn’t been abandoned, bendy does everything for a reason. He just needs to get him to notice him again through sacrifice to remind bendy of how useful he can be.

Bendy killing Sammy was a massive reality check for him. It sends him into a complete spiral as he’s forced to confront the truth that he’s been thrown away yet again. But he still can’t fathom why he’d been ‘ left to rot’. After all, he’d kept on sacrificing people like bendy originally wanted hadn’t he? He’d remained faithful even after being ignored for years, spent years praising bendy’s name despite all possible logic pointing against it!

He has nothing. He’s worth nothing. All the suffering he endured was for nothing. We can clearly see that Sammy despises being useless more then anything else. If bendy had kept on talking to him, even if it was all lies, he would have probably have been happier then facing the truth.

Having no purpose

He may have a stupidly small amount of screen time in batdr, but I think his jail scene still tells us a lot.

I’d go as far to argue that the Sammy we see in prison is probably his lowest point in the series that we’ve ever seen.

I mean just look at him. He doesn’t even turn to look at Audrey when she enters. He’s been told that his lord is dead, that he’s a false prophet, that nothing he’s done has mattered because no one is coming to free him. If this is how Sammy acts when he feels worthless it’s no wonder that he lied to himself about bendy being his lord. He’s completely dejected of all hope.

To add to this feeling of uselessness, it doesn’t even seem like he knows how to play anymore. It sounds like he’s trying to play hellfire follis but miserably failing. Not only does he fail as a prophet, but he can’t even be a musician- the last part of his identity he could even latch onto at this point.

And honestly, as happy as an ending as Batdr seems for most of the cast, I don’t think this’ll be the same for Sammy. After all, his lord has completely left the ink realm. He has no one to serve anymore. He’ll lose all his purpose, and everyone around him tells him this is supposed to be for the better? He’s supposed to be content with remaining an ink man for the foreseeable future just because there’s no other option?

I think Sammy actually has the potential to be a villain in the next game ( assuming we get one judging from that scene at the end). Maybe someone from gent, like Alan Grey, will somehow get in contact with him and promise to give him a use again. All he has to do is go against the residents of the ink realm in order to serve him. And if Sammy’s desperate enough, I wouldn’t be surprised if he accepted.

I really do hope we see more of Sammy. I don’t think the meatly is a particularly good writer so I’m not expecting some amazing character ark but tbh I’ll take any crumbs at this point. As long as they don’t make him forgive Joeys bs ‘redemption’ ark I don’t think they can mess up his character too badly. But I’ll guess we’ll have to see when the next bendy game comes out in five years.

[monstax-info]

사랑하는 우리 몬베베❤️ 2023년도에는 참 다양한 열정과 사랑이 함께한 행복하면서도 아쉬움이 남는 여러가지 감정 들이 많았던 한 해 였던것같아. 나의 첫 솔로 앨범부터 숨쉬 지못할정도로 달렸던 일정들 부터 끝까지 입대에 대한 얘기 를 목끝까지 차오르는걸 삼키며 몬베베들에게 행복만을 주 고만 싶었던 몬의 첫 입성 체조경기장 MX FRIENDS, 또 민혁이형부터 우리멤버들의 입대. 정말 다들 감정이 롤러코 스터 같았겠다. 많이 혼란스러웠겠다. 생각이 들더라.. 여기 부대에서 2023년 마마무대, 많은 가수들의 연말무대를 보 면서 우리도 하고싶다. 나도 하고싶다. 몬베베들이 너무 보 고싶다.. 생각하면서 하늘 보면서 침 한번 꿀꺽 삼키고 하루 를 살아가는 나였어. 나의 모든것, 내가 존재하고 팬들에대 한사랑을 알게해준 몬베베 2023년 진심으로 고생많았어. 2024년엔 민혁이형이 찾아가고 금방 25년엔 내가 돌아갈 거니까 좀만 기다려줘.. 나의 행복, 나의 사랑 몬베베! 나의 쉼표가 온점이 될때까지 사랑한다 몬베베! 참 그리고 사회에서 열심히 해주는 우리 큰형 셔누형 그리고 입대해있 는 우리 멤버들 또 멋진 모습 보여주고있는 우리 창균이 고 생많았다! 고생하고있구! 사랑해 다들 💛

My beloved Monbebe ❤️I think 2023 has been a year with diverse passions and loves, making me feel happy as well as leaving behind a touch of sadness. From the release of my first solo album and the schedules that left no room for me to breathe, to the talks of my enlistment that I had to hold down to make sure they don't spill out—all the while only wanting to give happiness to Monbebe via things like MX first first concert at the KSPO Dome with "MX FRIENDS", and from Minhyuk's enlistment, to our members'. It must've been an emotional rollercoaster for you all. You must've felt very caught off guard. And it leaves me thinking... we're sitting here in our units, watching the 2023 MAMA performances, and the end-of-year stages of so many artists.. and we want to be there too. I want to be there, too. I miss Monbebe so much...And when I missed you I'd look up at the sky, swallow hard, and get through another day. Monbebe, you've taught me everything know, you've taught me I exist, and you've taught me about the love I have for my fans. You've truly done so well in 2023. Minhyuk will come back to you in 2024, and I will come back a little later: in 2025. So please wait for me just a little longer.. my happiness, my love, Monbebe! Love you Monbebe! Until my comma turns into period. Okay, and.. my big brother Shownu who's working hard back in society, our enlisted members, and our Changkyunnie who's been showcasing his cool and admirable sides: you've all done so well! You're doing so well! I love all of you 💛

Translation by Monsta X Translations

231231 [MOMSTAX_JH] Talk Tok Update

[stray-kids-react]

Shy s/o doesn't think they deserve them

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° He loved your shy personality, he just wanted to cuddle and praise you all day long. Even though you are a naturally soft person, that also comes with a lot of insecurities.

° Your boyfriend is a hot aussie leader with a heart of gold who fans call daddy, you can't but feel that you don't deserve such a God like boyfriend. And he can see it bothers you.

° Chan is a sweet heart who will check in on you as often as he can even with his busy schedule, he knows having an idol boyfriend can be stressful and he wants to comfort you.

° Felix was baking brownies, which you usually helped him out with even if it is just to cheer him on as he does his thing. But both of the aussies noticed your missing presence.

° Chan waltzed up to his studio, where you often hung around when you were at the dorms. Once he walked inside he noticed your figure curled up in a chair.

° You were scrolling through some messages that were sent to you via Instagram. None of the messages were pleasant, and Chan's heart broke as he read the truly gruesome ones.

"Maybe they are right. Maybe I don't deserve you." you sighed, slumping back.

"Don't say that, you are a beautiful person inside and out who I couldn't survive without." He reassured, taking your phone away as he cuddled into you.

Lee Know

° Minho always liked you since you first met during the shoot of hellevator. He was pretty obvious with his fondness of you, but you never believed that he could like you.

° Later on once you began dating, he soon realized how low your self confidence truly was. So he made a promise to himself to try and increase it as much as he can.

° Many fans would threaten you for 'taking Minho away', but Minho would shred the letters before you could see how many there truly were. He knew it would hurt you.

° Minho is very affectionate towards you and likes to show you his love through touch. Whenever you seem down, he will cover your face in small pecks until you begin to smile.

° Has seen how come fans and staff treat you, pushing you around and telling you that you aren't worth his time. Minho took it into his own hands and protected you from them.

° He doesn't like seeing you upset or feel like a burden to him, especially since you are so special to him. Minho asked Chan and JYP if he could take at least a week off, they said yes.

"You didn't have to take a week off just for me, I am okay with your schedule." You explained, ruffling his hair.

"I know you're okay with it, but I needed to get away just for a while. And I miss you everytime you're not with me." He replied, gently placing a kiss to your head.

Changbin

° Will do anything to make you see for at least a second how important you truly are to him, he usually sends you hearts and does an adorable aegyo voice when talking to you.

° When you first began to hang out, you were very distant and almost never said a word. Changbin wanted to get to know you, so he constantly made efforts to befriend you.

° Once you opened up you Changbin, he noticed how self conscious and self critical you were of yourself. His confusion as to why you hate yourself only grew stronger.

° Every morning when you both get out of the shower, he will stand you in front of the mirror and poke every feature on your body saying that it is gorgeous and perfect.

° Likes knowing that you feel comfortable around him and that you have him to go to when you are feeling down. He wants to always be there for you and support you.

° Won't admit it to you, but he once teared up while you were asleep because he picked up a hate letter that was directed at you and he was worried that you read it.

"Your eyes, stunning. Your tummy, adorable. Your ears, cute. Your lips, kiss able. Your butt, squishy. Your shoulders, gorgeous..."

"Binnie you have five minutes before dance practice, you should really get going now."

Hyunjin

° Hyunjin is known to be a visual God in all of kpop, even though he is also VERY talented. Many people have a crush on Hyunjin, and you happened to be one of the many.

° His personality was addictive to be around, his looks were God like, and his talent was insane. Thus making it harder and harder for you to see how much he truly adored you.

° You saw yourself on totally different levels, you alwere at a ten while he was in the thousands. Your thoughts always doubting a scenario where you two would date.

° Assuming Hyunjin was just being nice to you, it became very hard for Hyunjin to clue you into that fact that he liked you. Everyone knew this except for you it seemed.

° Jisung, being a close friend to both Hyunjin and yourself. Took it upon himself to try and arrange a way for you to not be so self critical and completely oblivious.

° The next afternoon, you walked into the dance practice room which was now turned into a full on romantic dining area. Shocked as you saw Hyunjin with a rose in his hand.

"Is this for me? It can't be... There must be some sort of mistake or-"

"No mistakes, I've liked you for a while and thought I was being obvious enough. But Jisung told me that I should simply confess."

Han

° You and Jisung have been dating for a while, and you watched proudly as Stray Kids gained more and more popularity as they deserved, since they are talented kings.

° The hate comments sent towards you, and the jealous fans or occasionally staff members and idols. Those never used to bother you, but they became more frequent.

° This slowly picked away at your already small amount of confidence, over thinking everything you do or ever did. And Jisung began to notice your distressed state.

° After a performance he went up to you back stage and leaned in for a kiss, when you barely responded to it and looked around the room nervously, his heart twisted sadly.

° Jisung took you to an unoccupied dressing room, and locked the door behind you. He cupped your cheeks gently as he rested his head against yours. A small sigh escaping him.

° You felt all of the built up sadness and anger rise out of you, as tears slowly sprinkled down your cheeks. Your hands clinging onto his back as he embraced you.

"Shh shh shh, it's okay. Just let it all out, it'll be okay. I'm here for you, you know that."

"I'm sorry, I just felt like I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have been so distant, their words just really hurt."

Felix

° Felix knew it was going to be a bumpy ride seeing as he is under a huge company and his band is very popular, but he was willing to go through all of that with you.

° You and Felix were best friends before you started dating, he knew you were shy and quite distant when it came to people. He started to find it cute after a couple years.

° JYP himself has criticised you for interfering with his idols's lives. Even though you didn't interfere and honestly helped Felix calm down throughout the schedules.

° Felix was disappointed by some fo the fan's toxic behavior towards you, knowing that those types of comments will stick with you for quite sometime. You made him happy and he wished others would see that.

° The other members and artists under JYP saw you as part of the big jyp family, but even their support couldn't stop the sadness that brewed as more hate letters were sent.

° You didn't want to stress your already overworked boyfriend, so you tried to find a quiet spot to cry in. But Felix knew you too well, and knew where you would hide.

"I'm okay Lix, I don't want to stress you out since your already on a hectic schedule today. I'll be fine I swear."

"I won't leave until I know for a fact that you are okay, the practice can wait. You need me right now and I'm going to be here for you."

Seungmin

(He looks so cute! I couldn't help myself lol)

° You were also a beloved idol, and many eoopel actually found your relationship with Seungmin quite adorable. You felt lucky that there wasn't so much hate directed at you.

° Even though you both seemed to have it easy compared to other idol couples, you couldn't help but feel insecure when Seungmin treated you like a queen/king.

° Many fans of yours knew that off stage you are an adorable shy bean, but no one except for Seungmin knew why you would become so shy and distant towards others.

° Your shyness came from extreme anxiety and self image issues. You never had much confidence, and Seungmin made many goals to try and bring your confidence up.

° One day after a hard performance, you sat in front of your dressing room mirror and let your tears slide down your cheeks silently. Letting your anxiety take over everything.

° Seungmin walked in with a box of celebration cupcakes, only to have hsi smile fade once he saw the tears rushing down your features. He felt his heart sink.

"I'm sorry Seungmin. It's stupid really, but I just don't feel like I deserve you."

"Y/n, we are perfect for each other. I spoil you with love and affection because you always make me feel special and loved."

Jeongin

° You knew how beloved Jeongin was, by fans, members, idols, netizens, family... Everyone. This sent a large amount of pressure towards you once you began dating.

°Jeongin loved your quiet and calm personality, it was a nice break from the loud JYP building and Stray Kids dorms. Your shyness is what attracted him to you.

° He liked cuddling with you in your apartment, talking about nothing and everything as a random movie played in the background. It was his favorite place to be.

° You both were open with anything that was bothering you and never let something stir inside of you for too long. He wanted to be your safe haven for when you need one.

° One weekend when he was staying at your place, he noticed you seemed more quiet than usual and asked you what was bothering you. Since something clearly was.

° You snuggled into his chest as you clung onto him tighter, sighing in defeat knowing you will have to admit your feelings even though you think they seem silly.

" I feel like I don't deserve you. I mean, you are Yang Jeongin a literal angel."

"You deserve the universe and everything in it, I love you and only you. Don't put yourself down, remember how much I care about you."

[djarinsbeskar]

Happiest of Birthdays to our darling @literallydontlook who has brought untold joy to the fandom through her art, presence and friendship!

Your gifts are enroute but to accompany them, we have a few sneaky extras starting with messages from everyone who made this little project possible!

If you want to leave B a birthday message, feel free to reblog this post so she can see them all together in one post!

From @jazzelsaur

Dearest B — Happiest of birthdays to you! You are always such a delight on my dash; from sharing your incredible talent through your art, your perspectives on things that make me pause and take a moment to think, to being so incredibly supportive of others here, I’m always happy to see you around. I hope your special day is filled with all things wonderful: friends and family, good food and drinks, and lots and lots of love.

From @heartsofbeskar

my sweet bumblebee❤️🐝 you came into my life unexpected but i'm so grateful you did. your beauty and kindness and talent shine from every pore of you, and i hope you have the best of birthdays like you deserve, and the sun shines bright and warm just for you! p.s. i hope petey grants you snuggles today as well. love you to bits my wife! -olive (heartsofbeskar)

From @radiowallet

Dear B- Happy happiest of birthdays to you! Seeing you on my dash never ever fails to make me smile! Your amazing art and talent continues to amaze me. But even more than that you are so kind, so supportive, and you deserve to have a day of love and pampering, food and drink, and all the things your heart desires! Biggest hugs and birthday wishes to you, sweet B.

From @asta-lily

Beloved B!! Beautiful friend, artist, writer, purveyor of sweet porn, devoted dog mama - the list goes on! You are the sweetest ray of light, wise voice of reason, and wonderful cheerleader for us all and I am so grateful to know you. I am always so eager to hear your perspective on ANYTHING, because your outlook on issues and life is always so realistic yet inspiring, you just have this way in the world that is really comforting to hear about... How you cram all of that wonderfulness and huge galaxy brain into that tiny body of yours, I'll never know. Have the best birthday! You deserve to be spoiled rotten, and then spoiled some more. Love you lots Bee 🐝💛

From @ronnieiswriting

Happy, happy birthday BumbleBee!!! I'm so greatful that you decided to not only share your porny art, but also embrace the swarm of us that absolutely died over your hard work and skill! You are well and truly one of the greatest members of this community- and not only for your work but because you've got a huge heart too!! Chatting with you about anything is always uplifting and I always know I can share anything with you and you'll understand 🥺 I wish I wasn't on the other side of the world because I'd love to give you a big hug but a virtual one will have to do! Hope you have a wonderful and relaxing birthday, Bee- you deserve it 🥳💖-ur Aussie wife, Ronron

From @djarinsbeskar

My dearest B! I'm so glad that I can celebrate another Pisces' birthday for one of the single most wonderful people I've ever had the pleasure of not only knowing, but being friends with! You never cease to amaze me with the depth of your compassion, the selflessness of your support and the unwavering bundle of loveliness that makes my day brighter with just your name popping up on discord! I could ramble on for hours about how you use your insane gifts to show writers how much you enjoy their work, or how you're no one trick pony (I still haven't recovered from that Rex fic ok), or how you breathe life and a steady perspective on things that can seem daunting and difficult and make them so much more easy to overcome. I can't even count how many times you've got me off the ledge with just your friendship and I can't express how grateful I am to you. I thank all the smutty gods and goddesses for putting you in my path and enriching my life to the point that your presence is so intrinsically linked to everything I love and enjoy. (basically you're stuck with me soz for that) I cannot WAIT to see what you think of your gifts that are on their way to you now. Know that you deserve it all and more for being a true beacon and inspiration for all of us.

Love you lots honeybee~~~ 🐝🧡

[tipsydipsydo]

Der Geliebte

Pairing: Jungkook x artist! Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 6.4k 

Rating: 16+

AU: non idol! Jungkook x artist! Reader AU!

Genre: strangers to lovers AU; friends to lovers AU! (idiots to lovers AU!); love at the first sight! AU; soulmate to lovers! AU (kinda?); unbelievable amount of fluff; a little angst (fluffy angst!!,); tiny amount of smut (one paragraph xD)

Warnings: tiny bit of smut/some sexual tension between both of them; Jungkook is a poor shy thing and is fucking nervous around the reader all the time; teeth rotting fluff; both are so in love with each other that they’re getting stupid to not realize it; both are insecure that they’re not meant for another... just fluff, fluff, fluff and painfully obvious pining over each other! 

A/N: Hallelujah, I finally did it! After I made Sibi @borathae​ wait over three months for her Christmas + Birthday Fanfic I finished it two weeks to late for my sweetest Darlings Birthday! I am so incredibly sorry that I made you wait for such a long time and really, Sweetie, you have all the rights to be still mad at my stupid ass! Nevertheless... I love you so goddamn much and I hope the fic made at least a little bit up for it... Love you!!!! 💕 💕 

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings...

Status: Edited (I am sorry for any still existing errors in here!) 

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

* Jungkook’s POV * 

"In what are you getting yourself into, Jungkook?"

 I quietly ask myself as I get rid of my clothes behind the paravent and throw the dressing gown over his body which you laid out for me. My hands are sweaty, they tremble slightly and my heart beats wildly, as if it wants to jump right out of my chest. Excitement spreads throughout my body, leaving a faint feeling in my stomach and a certain blush rises in my cheeks. I still can't believe what I've gotten myself into . But... you looked at me so pleadingly with your dear and downright innocent eyes that I would have done anything for you with that look of yours. I want to make you happy, see that happy and contented smile on your lips, which always makes a whole horde of wild butterflies break out in my belly. 'Normally I was the shyness and silence in person and with you... with her, I feel for the first timesomething like peace and security. Especially when I consider how shy I usually am around women.', I ask myself and I don't really know the answer to that. But what can I do against my feelings? I don't really know, on the one hand they scare me, on the other hand they feel so exciting and new that I don't want to eliminate them at all.

I don't even know exactly when the whole thing started. In which moment my feelings for you grew, when I felt more than just fascination and admiration for you and your artwork. Six months ago, a small studio had opened in my district, your own studio. On the day of the opening I simply went to it of pure curiosity, I had always had such a weakness for art and photography.

I can still remember exactly how I stood in front of one of your works and was literally speechless and overwhelmed by this picture and all his small details. This painting represents a classic image of the countryside, which was often to be found everywhere. But this work was different. So full of small details and ornaments. It was so much more... As a viewer you can see a beautiful clearing, which is surrounded by trees and protected from too many curious eyes. The ground of this clearing is overgrown with dense and lush green grass, which from the incoming sunlight almost invites you to let yourself fall into the grass. It reminds me instantly of my carefree childhood, when I rolled in it without overthinking my actions too much and those times when I playfully wrestled with my best friends around until our clothes had grass stains all everywhere. I could almost smell the scent of wild, untamed nature. The longer I look at the picture, the greater the longing became. Maybe I could visit this beautiful place one day, together with my partner, my significant other. Playing around with each other, chasing your beloved one until you fall into the grass breathless laughing and cuddling. Maybe we could have a picnic there and feed each other with homemade sweets? 

I didn’t know that such a "simple" landscape painting could touch and awaken so much more in me, in my soul. Suddenly, such a wanderlust came over me that I gasped for air and a heavy lump formed in my throat. My whole body was tingling and my heart was literally screaming to get away from this dreadfully grey and monotonous daily routine of my boring single life, for at least some weeks. I want to go to this place, where I could draw the warm and fresh, natural air could deep into my lungs and pamper myself with homemade delicacies. Just to let the soul dangle and don’t stuck with my closely clocked work life. Maybe sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning and then maybe have a nice nap later. Enjoy the warm nights and hear the crickets chirping. This longing was... irrepressible. This particular wanderlust for nature, just to be out of the city, this longing for exactly this abandoned and untouched forest clearing literally overwhelmed me. What was it for an artist who could trigger such feelings and emotions in me?

I had been so absorbed in the artwork that I had not even noticed that a person step next to me. "Do you like the work?", asked a soft melodic voice, which spoke perfect Korean, but was pervaded by a light accent, which I could not quite assign. I flinched a little, but this bright, happy laugh gave me a tingling goosebumps all over my body. What a beautiful laugh... I turned to the person who was the owner of this beautiful voice. I was startled when I realized that the artist and owner of this studio was standing in front of me personally. I recognized her again, as I had seen a small photo of her in the newspaper article that drew my attention to this beautiful studio in the first place. Already in this picture she had radiated something so strong, colorful, cheerful and lively, which caused an excited flutter in my stomach. 

I admit, I already laid an eye on her just by her appearance. Unfortunately I always had a hard time getting to know people ever since, let alone to talk to women. And now having you, Y/N, personally standing right in front of me, made me feel fluffy and excited in my stomach. Nothing is left of this otherwise so sassy and self-confident  man that I used to be. Only a nervous and stodgy twenty-three-year-old idiot, who did not know what to say or wanted to say, now stands in front of this stunningly pretty and intelligent woman.

Her eyes sparkles like jewels, full of joy, struck me with interest and a playful smile lays on her lips. "Did you not understand my question?", she asked kindly, but nobly reserved. Immediately a rosy puff settled on my cheeks and I stuttered nervously: "Y-Yes, excuse me! I... I was just somewhere else with my thoughts and was completely surprised that they were addressing me personally.... Your works are truly unique! They still show such ‘usual’ motifs and yet they are so special because of these finely elaborated details and this passion with which this work of art was painted. They really are... Unique artworks that you do not forget so quickly. Even for untrained eyes as my owns, I can see that a talented artist has worked on it. I am very impressed by your work, especially this work here!" You could hear the honest admiration from my voice and my heart leapt as she reacted bashful to all of my compliments.

"Thank you, really, thank you so much! I really appreciate to hear such nice words like yours, even if it is rare. I am often criticized for my ‘lack of creativity’, caused by my chosen motives. I just love the rough, almost untouched landscapes of my hometown, I try to depict the ‘normal’ as something beautiful, unique. I would like to ‘really see’ what we already take for granted again. As a wonderful creation, a work of art. Nature is a wonderful example of this, or the architecture of buildings as well. Architects are also artists, although unfortunately they are not seen as such. I just want to offer the obvious things a more meaningful space again.... People like you have become rare. I have observed how you have recognized the true meaning, this beauty and aesthetics in such a ‘usual-looking’ motif. And this pleases me so much that you can read 'between the brushstrokes'. Oh... Excuse me, I always talk way too much when someone shows an interest in art or music, my personal passions. Besides that, I have not introduced myself to you yet, I am Y/N! I was obviously so pleased to see your understanding, empathetic look at this work, if you understand what I mean... Anyway... I can guess that you knew my name already, don't you? What about you? May I know your name?", asked you, beautiful artist, with her really stunning smile.

I swallowed nervously, never before had a young lady mixed my emotions so much in me. Even the picture of her in the newspaper article, which I had read out of boredom in one of my lectures, got me so emotionallyconfused. I didn't want to say it in front of my teasing friends, but I had been really excited when I set off this Friday night. And now the creator of these works of art stood before me and seemed to want to have a longer conversation with me. My heart beats to my throat and I got sweaty hands from this nervousness in my poor body. Honestly, as soon as I wasn't surrounded by my clique of friends, I automatically turned into a nervous, slightly abashed blushing and stuttering guy who behave like an inexperienced teenager. 

In private life, without my best mates by the side, I am not so confident and daredevil. After all, I always had someone who could cover my back when things get tough, while I am on my own without anyone I know. You could usually only believe and trust, not control. That's probably why I struggled with interpersonal relationships. I always overthink too much and have some struggles with my self-confidence.

And now this attractive young woman looked at me with such interest and joy, just me. I was actually the reason for her interest. A joyful and blissful tingling seized every pore, every fiber of my body. Yes, in fact it was just me! Not my best buddy Seokjin, whom I have known since childhood and always sought the attention of everyone. It was no exaggeration to say that he was perhaps a little narcissistic, but only to cover up his own insecurities. Never would I have thought that someone would manage to get this personification of self-love under control. I admired his wife for standing up to Seokjin and keeping him and his dad Jokes at bay. Believe it or not, she of all people had the pants on in the house and knew how to deal with my best friend.

My gaze glided over the figure of the person in front of me and once again I took a sharp breath. I was so nervous to face her personally, a person I already deeply admired and had quite a respect for. I simply did not want to do anything wrong, even if this charm of hers was almost tangible and paralyzed my entire brain with its function. I can already picture how my mind waved wildly goodbye to myself and went to the summer holiday in the Caribbean.

This carefree smile and these beautiful eyes harmonized wonderfully with your complexion. Your features were awake and alive, seemingly always a slight smile surrounded the corners of your mouth, which provoked almost paradoxical reactions in my body. Your smile awake countless butterflies to flutter around in my stomach, which made me quite nervous and at the same time you radiated such a sense of security and calm, as if there was no reason not to get a word out of shyness. My gaze, which I hope examined you unobtrusively enough, wandered to your hands. You had long fingers, I could really imagine how they elegantly held the handle of the paint brushes and worked on these small details extensively in such a calm behavior. Which satisfied and concentrated calmness you possibly radiated while doing that...

A small, noble clearing of your throat again tore me out of my fantasies and speculations. God, what was I today but inattentive! How rude I must have seemed to you...

"Oh, sorry... I... I have not been able to keep my thoughts together all day..." I lied to seem at least a little more credible. Nervously, I pulled on the knot of my tie to loosen it up a little before I have a circulatory collapse. Before I went here, I thought for a long time about what I should wear for this occasion. Jeans and T-shirt were out of the question, too casual and almost an insult for your atelier. A complete suit, however, seemed too overdressed to me and so I decided for a black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt.Understanding, Y/N nodded and gave me a cheering smile, which made my body tingle again. This woman drove me half crazy alone with his friendly gestures. How could it be that this polite lady got me confused right away?!

And somehow, it gave me a frenzy to leave my secure, anonymous side as a visitor to her exhibition and irrevocably reveal my true identity to you.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."I answered in a slightly trembling voice, hardly daring to look into her eyes and rubbing my neck unobtrusively.

* Jungkook’s POV *

If only I had guessed what would change in me, how you changed me. That so much more would develop from a pure interest and a simple formal business contact... that you want to make me one of your artworks.

I take another deep breath before I dare to step out from behind the dark red paravent. It is pleasantly warm in this room, I should not freeze, if I am already so freely clothed. My gaze wanders through the small room with the huge, floor-to-ceiling window, which floods the entire room with light. The walls of the room have been painted in a dark orange and red colors and dark wooden planks lay out on the floor. It looks so comfortable due to the warm, dark tones. The orange-yellow evening sun dipped everything into something so cozy... sensual. Somehow into even a little erotic?

Y/N wants to work a lot with the light of the evening sun in this painting, which could be a little complicated if it is not suitable or if it is cloud-covered. But if you have put something into your head, especially in relation to your art, then you do everything you can do to go through it! Also the changing forces of nature cannot stop you from trying to realize your idea. Sometimes, you’re  someone who is quickly frustrated and dissatisfied with yourself as well, especially when something doesn't work as  you wants it to. Nevertheless when it comes to your passion, drawing and painting, you don’t let your idea go away, if you want something, you’ll find a way to make it happen. These are qualities that I know all too well of myself and thus my fascination about you only grows even more. The more time we spent together and I get to know more and more sides of you, the more attracted I became to you.

Your art means a lot to you and you’re quite tough in this respect, can not be overcome by the reproaches and the crushing criticism. That’s exactly what I admire so much about you, having the courage to stand up for personal passion. When I get criticized, all too often I think about really giving up on it, so that I don't have to endure all this criticism anymore. And then I look at you. How focused you are in this moment and carefully prepare for your next project. How you adjusts you easel to the right height, let your self-stretched canvas snap into place, spreads brushes of all sizes and shapes on the small side table next to you and prepares youracrylic colours. I swallow again, as I watched this happen. I am about to become one of your next artworks.

A little uncertainly I walk towards Y/N, the thin dressing gown tightly drawn around my body... never before have I felt so naked and vulnerable. This here is something else. I feel something about it... I feel something for you. For this pretty lady, who sprays her cheerfulness around her and could conjure a smile on the lips of even the most grumpy person. This joy almost kills you, completely engrossed this person and gives you the feeling of floating. You will get the feeling of being welcome at Y/N. To be accepted, with all the flaws and weaknesses that one has. She just smiles at you so gently and lovingly and just says, it's okay. It's okay to be the way you are. Imperfect.

"It is precisely this imperfect, this contradictory and also unpredictable thing that makes us human. That makes us an individual and also interesting. If we were really all as we are expected to be, it would be boring and monotonous. The surprise is only a real gift. Each of us is a very individual gift to a very specific addressee, who is the only one who can truly appreciate this gift. Only then did the recipient find the right person as his gift... Well, if the recipient knows about his gift...", Y/N once said with such a certain look at me, when we went out to dinner together in a restaurant in the evening to clarify some details. I wanted to help her find good contacts in Seoul and help her sell her works.

I can still remember it exactly... it was a quite... extraordinary evening. I was of course once again incredibly nervous and excited. At that time, I did not want to fully realize how much I already like you. Secretly, I had observed my opposite. Your positive and friendly disposition had turned my head all around... and in addition, this beautiful body and her elegant fingers, which already haunt me in the most erotic way unintentionally in my dreams. 

I could not prevent my dream pictures from shooting through my head, which is why my cheeks turned dark red in embarrassment. These fucking fantasies in my head! My eyes stare at the cutlery as if it were incredibly interesting because I didn't dare look up. There were scenes in my mind that made my ears turn red and I would’ve loved to hide behind the menu card. Your body, which made her look like a Greek goddess.

Naked, body covered in sweat, your body shook in lust, you sit up with a wonderful moan... You are on top of me, I could admire your beautiful, almost divine body as you sat on top of me... and rode me. This breathtakingly beautiful distorted face of yours, as if all this pleasure you feel is carved in marble... lids closed, your lips, swollen from all the kissing, are slightly opened which let    your lustful whimpering escape. This grace and elegance, as you rose from me and  then lowered yourself again... as your hands glide erratically over my stomach, searching for support... you suddenly threw your head back and clenched even more tightly around my length. The addicting sounds you’ve made... it’s like the most beautiful melody in my ears... squelching noises and even more of yourjuices gushing out of your sweet, so sweet pussy when you came...

An all-too-familiar laugh tore me out of my extremely indecent thoughts, which quite relieved me at first. Until I raised my head and not too far away I recognized no one but my best friend Kim Seokjin, who made very questionable hand signals in my direction. Oh my God, no! I knew that he had recently changed his job and got accepted for a position as a chef in a new restaurant... but not in this Restaurant! He will never let me life after he found out I was on a “Date” with a woman...

Even though Seokjin was on the other side of the restaurant, I could almost feel his smirk on my own skin. Fuck it, just pretend as if you do not know each other and hit him really hard tomorrow morning in the gym where we meet up for our work out. I quickly turned all my attention back to the person sitting opposite me and tried to ignore Seokjin as best I could.

It was only at the end of the evening, when I had said goodbye to Y/N, that I realized that this meeting had much more of a date than a "business dinner". How familiar we had talked with each other... how much I had thought about licking Y/N the drop from the chocolate sauce of her lava cake from her lips... how it would be... to kiss and touch you...

A noticeable blush has settled on my cheeks as I attended our first meeting together... or even Date in this Restaurant thought back. Four months had passed since then and I suffered from longing for you. You would never see me like I saw you. The reason you wanted to draw me was simply that she needed someone as a model. In addition to landscapes and cities, you want to devote herself gradually to more other motifs. And since I have been the first inquired. Your pleading eyes made me say yes. But I know that for me you have  no more than the feelings for a casual friendship. It hurts to see how you flirt  around so casually with all those other people. I would never be the gift for you as you are for me. If only the recipient would notice that there is a given heart laying in your hands...

"Ah, Jungkook! I’m glad that you're ready!", your cheerful and melodic voice cuts through the silence of the room and you’re walking towards me with excited shining eyes. "Come~," you say and lead me to the chaiselongue, which is placed in front of the large window. The soft, orange light of the evening sun falls on the wine-red fabric of the restored chaiselounge in baroque style. The upholstery has frames covered in gold and also the lion feet on which this historic furniture stands are gilded. Everything was decorated with so many Details, it looks so incredibly elegant and luxurious. On the left side there are some cushions in the same color and an elegant design is carved on the backrest, literally inviting to get used.

"Surely you know the movie 'Titanic', right? Do you remember the scene where Jack used charcoal pencils to draw an nude coal picture of Rose as she laid on the sofa? I would like to draw you in a similar position. I hope it's okay for you if I look at you more closely without a dressing gown... i want to get an overview of your body proportions.", you say, looking me straight in the eye. I notice that you’re very concerned about my privacy and does not want to overstep any of my personal boundaries without my consent. I nod slightly at first until I get a clear yes over my lips. She looks at me silently for a few seconds before reassuring me once again that we can always stop at any time if I feel uncomfortable. Especially your patience and mindfulness of my boundaries shows me how important it is for you as well and how I actually relax noticeably. Y/N smiles cheerfully at me and I slowly loosen the belt of the dressing gown and let the last garment slide to the ground. I feel her in-depth look at me... he is not uncomfortable... only... exciting... in a few different ways.

I swallow again and lie down on the chaiselongue as instructed. You correct my arm and leg position, also rearrange all of the cushions correctly. To my own relief, you put a red cloth over my crotch area. Not that I am ashamed of anything, I am more than comfortable with you already... I just have some worries that I will get a visible problem if I constantly feel your look on my bare skin.

 "It should be able to guess something, but not be allowed to see everything right away...", she whispered with a smile, before her fingertips unintentionally glide tenderly through my happy trail. One of your last smiles are... not really to interpret. Then you return to your easel.

* The Reader’s POV *

Carefully you sit down on your old painting stool, already quite worn out on the edges and stained with the most different types and tones of colors. It had originally been dark brown. You smile dreamily when you think back that you’re used to dangle your legs around when you were a little kid because it was way too big for you back then. For eighteen years now you have exactly this stool and this easel. They had been a gift from your grandfather for your fifth birthday. He had awakened the passion of painting and drawing in you and passed his talent on to you. A certain melancholy seized you when I thought back to how you used to paint your first real picture on canvas with your new easel in the old music room in your grandfather's country house. 

It had been the old, dusty grand piano, which must have been more than a hundred years old at that time. How the country house survived all these wars unscathed, you ask yourself to this day. Perhaps there had already been something magical about it at that time, which should remain untouched. Perhaps the small estate should remain an inconspicuous symbol of hope, the hope that at some point the sun and peace will return when the unbearable suffering and sorrow of this cruel time is over. When the wars were over and all those seeking protection who had fled to this country house were able to return to their own homes again. This house, this estate you can explain your childhood with a single word. Home.

You lift your thought-lost look from your empty, folded hands and look to Jungkook. He takes your breath away every time you see him. He is so special, such a wonderful and yet you firmly believe that he has not been chosen for you, such an ordinary woman as you are. He would belong to someone else with whom he would be happy, although he is the only one who was able to understand and read your works, the language in them. It... it had been such a beautiful moment when, six months ago, he stood in your newly opened studio, so absorbed by the painting of the forest of your childhood. All the other visitors had only looked at it briefly and smiled wearily at the fact that it was again only a landscape painting, but did not grasp what the story behind this work was. Why the artist chosed this very motif, to see, to feel what the creator wanted to communicate through the work. 

But Jungkook had been different. He had given the work, your personal heart, a chance to unravel the true meaning behind it. He did it slowly, bit by bit with his eyes... grasped with his whole mind and heart and finally let himself be influenced as a whole. You could tell from his body reactions that he felt exactly what you had felt when you painted it last summer. Longing. Infinite Longing. Mixed together with melancholy, a little homesickness and sorrow to a unique emotional color. The day you painted it was the last time you saw the house in your official possession. Your grandfather had left it to you. But unfortunately you lacked money, you had to pay some debts and with the best will you could not earn the money in other ways. So you had to sell it with a heavy heart. Your beloved birth and childhood home and the associated lands, you had to sell your true home away. The picture is the only thing left of it. And Jungkook was the only person who understood what you wanted to express with the painting. Longing. My Homesickness.

When all these sensations came upon him, he involuntarily clenched his hands tightly, his chest lifted and lowered quickly, his Adam's apple hopped repeatedly. His eyes were glassy. He experienced your longing as directly as you did. He... is so special. So infinitely amiable. He... he is the only person who’s able to read your true feelings in your works. He is able to read between your brush strokes.

So today you will try him... to paint a confession of love with this act. Maybe he could read... what you feel for him. Even if you know that you will probably never see him again. Because you would not be the recipient of his love and affection. He's just too... too... gifted for a simple artist like you. He would never be your gifted person.

Your gaze glides tenderly and caressingly over his body. Trying to absorb every little detail of his body, his charisma and his character into you and let it flow into the painting. Every birthmark you want to put on the canvas and hold on. You want to show Jungkook how beautiful he is. How godlike he lies before you on this majestic chaiselongue, how masculine and muscular he is, as if he wanted to embody an Adonis. You want to paint every muscle, even the smallest visible muscle, on the canvas in a realistic manner, you want to capture the strength and security that he conveys to you over and over again and make it visible to him. And yet... his gaze often corresponds to that of an intimidated, insecure fawn, which does not dare to want to get up on his legs on his own. The fear of falling again is too big. Through this painting you want to show Jungkook what he really is, what he represents for you and what you feel for him. He is... so contradictory. He is strong, godlike, powerful... and at the same time, so infinitely uncertain, vulnerable... almost pure.

Silence enters your little studio, only the regular breathing of the other and the muffled noise of the busy world outside the door could be heard. Here... here, it feels like time is standing still for a moment for the two of you. Your shared eternity had begun.

To your happiness that it is summer right now and it stays bright for a long time. Today you take more time than usual to mix colors. You want to mix a shade that perfectly matches his skin tone. You want to get the exact color of his black hair down onto the canvas, and the perfect brown for his beautiful eyes. The evening sun and the leaves of the huge treetops in front of the large window conjure up the most beautiful patterns on his immaculate body. A game of light and shadow. It seems to you that Jungkook's body, every single pore of his body has a tiny diamond, so that he begins to sparkle in the sunlight like an infinitely precious jewel. The evening sun warms him, lays a thin layer of sweat over his body. Every detail you try to bring to the canvas, every feeling, every movement of my heart, everything you feel for him, you want to bring to this canvas. You want to make him a masterpiece. Because for you, he is the most beautiful specimen, the only true crown of the human creation.

Some black strands have come loose from his manbun and have fallen on his forehead. It looks stunning, to see him like that. I had never seen him with a messy or even completely open hair... but even now these strands loosened from the braid make his facial features look so much softer and more relaxed. In it, the adult and strong man united with a young, vulnerable, shy boy. The result is... infinitely beautiful. He possesses both sides, so he makes the seemingly inexhaustible divine human being.

His eyes, drawing his eyes with that expression in them, cost you a lot of nerves. Too often you misunderstood this infinite longing that you find in his dark, brown eyes. Again and again you have to restrain yourself, not just to get up, to go over to him... and to kiss him.

This longing look you misinterpret is as longing as you own... according to your closeness, your touch, your affection... according to your love. Because you love him. You love everything about him, his sheepish laugh, the way of rubbing his neck shyly, the way he speaks and explains his point of views about things, how he smells... just everything... every blemish he blames on himself, you think it’s like an artwork on him. He is so perfectly imperfect that you just fell in love with him.

The sun has already set and only the last pink and purple streaks could be seen in the sky, with which the past day says goodbye to the world. One last time you can hear the velvety stroke of the brush over the canvas before you finally put the brush aside. It is finished. You have given everything that is in your power, used all of your artistic abilities and knowledge to the utmost and you have incorporated everything that you feel and think about into this artwork. And what you see put a smile on your lips, but also makes your pulse rise. What will Jungkook say when he looks at it? He will see it... can he read what you feel for him in it?

With a trembling voice, you call Jungkook and look at him one last time. The last time the sight of this male beauty was granted to you. One last time.

After Jungkook has wrapped himself in the dressing gown again, he slowly comes towards you and your easel. Your heart is throbbing as if it really wants to fearfully flight and jump out of your chest. Your body gets hot and cold at the same time and suddenly your hands get sweaty, the dried color on your skin mixes with the sweat to a uncomfortable mess in your palms, which somehow makes you even more nervous. Then he stands next to you. Looking at the canvas for the first time himself. The last brushstroke is still drying.

Once again there is silence, which makes you incredibly nervous and with every second that passes, you want to follow your instinct to escape. Jungkook's pupils are dilated and blown out, whether with bewilderment or horror, you can not recognize. One of his hands shoots up his mouth, he trembles all over his body. Suddenly you hear a suppressed, throaty sobbing. Surprised and a little appalled, you look at Jungkook, who has shut his eyes tightly and presses the palm of his hand even harder on his mouth, as if he wants to muffle every sound. Tears escape the corners of his eyes. This is a reaction... which you would not have expected...

Gently, mindful of any kind of resistance, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't sob, he doesn't whimper. He just cries. Tenderly, consolingly you hold him, without wanting to distress him. He literally presses his face into the crook of your neck. Salty tears drench your blouse, but it doesn't bother you. The reason why he had such an emotional outburst, you just don't understand. But still... it's okay. It is valid.

As he slowly calms down and his breathes becomes regularly again, he carefully lifts his head out of the crook of your neck and wipes the last tears out of his eyes dry in slight embarrassment. He slowly releases himself from your embrace until you finally stand silently in front of each other.

"What title you’ll give this artwork?", he asks softly, in a rough, throaty voice. You swallow . "It shall be called 'Der Geliebte'. ...it is german and translated it means... ‘The beloved’ ", you say barely audibly and lower your head. After this confession, you can no longer look him in the eyes.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath in and you're actually just waiting for a devastating response from him that would be like a death threat. But nothing of this happened. Instead, your chin is suddenly raised by his fingertips and you look into Jungkook's beautiful eyes. He bites his lower lip a little uncertainly,his own gaze falls on your pretty shaped lips. 

"Do you... do you allow me to kiss you?", he asks quietly... barely audible for you even though you’re standing so close to each other. He doesn't dare to look you into the eyes after such a question, he is too afraid that you deny his request. But you can hardly believe your luck, a high pitched ‘yes!’ flew over your lips and before you can control yourself, you press your own lips right onto his. They are incredibly soft and kiss you back in such a delightfully and endearing insecure and shy manner as no other could ever have done it.

Your heart beats full of joy and bliss and in your belly, the butterflies fly somersaults of all different kinds that your whole body began to tingle. Your mind cannot get a grasp of all this yet, but this... you don't need any more of it at this moment anyway.

The kiss is tender, shy and somewhat uncertain from both sides. Jungkook is very insecure and shy, but before he can escape like a frightened deer again, you put your arms around his neck and let your hands rest in the nape of his scalp. Again and again you detach yourselves from each other only for the fraction of a second to get a breath of air into your lungs in order to find each other lips again... until you stopped for a few seconds.

"I like you... I like you really, really much, Jungkook... I even dare to say that I fell on love with you.", you mutter softly against his lips. His shy, happy smile was too much for you, so you immediately kiss him again. Perhaps because of the sheer joy and maybe of the certainty that he feels the same for you, the next kiss turns into something more passionate than before...

[miraculous-sunflower]

doing it for the views

Alya knew Lila was lying. Like come on, Jagged Stone never had a kitten, he had Fang, his crocodile! And why would you openly state that you are best friends with one of the Heroes of Paris? Lila was bad at lying. But Alya didn’t care. When she posted the interview she did with Lila, she got SO many views. More than anything else she had posted! Alya knew Lila had so many “connections” so this could be her big break, leading into her reporting career, even if Lila was lying. It wasn’t like anyone was going to find out...

“ALYA! SHE’S LYING! Why can’t you believe me? You’re my best friend!” Marinette cried. I know she’s lying, girl, but this is helping my career. If you knew, you’d understand. I’m sorry, but for now, I have to act like she’s telling the truth, Alya thought.

Alya took a breath and responded to her claim. “Marinette! She’s not lying! You’re just jealous because of how close she is to Adrien, and jealous of all her connections! You’ve got to stop!” All of their classmates agreed with her, brushing off Marinette’s attempts to warn them as jealousy.

Marinette gasped. She thought Alya was being ridiculous not believing Lila, but now including her crush on Adrien? Marinette broke. She was done being categorized as being mean because of Adrien! “Wow. I thought you’d believe me. But I guess I was wrong. All of you don’t believe me! Even my oldest friends.” She glanced at Nino and Kim, who looked away guiltily. “If you don’t believe me, fine. Believe the liar.” Marinette walked out of the room, just as Lila strolled in.

“I saw Marinette looking mad. Is she alright?” Lila asked in a faux sweet voice.

“She’s just being jealous of you because of Adrien. She’s so annoying!” Alix grumbled.

“I know! Can’t she be considerate of all of Lila’s disabilities?” Rose cried.

“Oh no, was she fighting with you guys about me? I can’t believe I’m wrecking your class apart! Maybe I should just leave...”

“NO! Lila it’s not your fault that Marinette can’t see how great you are! We are willing to sacrifice our friendship with her if it means sticking up for you.” Lila hid a smirk.

Alya couldn’t believe how low her class was. They just believed Lila over Marinette! They were playing with her feelings! How could they! ______________________________________________________________________________________

NO WAY. 10,000 VIEWS?! Alya though as she scrolled through the LadyBlog. She checked on the interview of Lila she posted, and BAM! 10,000 VIEWS! Alya loved to bask in compliments and fame, so she decided to look through the comments...

dolphinlover8726: ummm, this isnt true

ladybugxcatnoir: ladybug’s best friend? ha, as if

peterparkerfan_12: xd her lies are almost as bad as trump-

totally_ravenclaw: hold up, jagged stone never had a kitten...

miraculous_sunflower: this is false information. please take it down, ladyblogger

Many of the comments were like that, but who cares? Lila’s lies weren’t hurting anybody. Maybe I could wait until I got an internship. Then I could spin this whole story about how Lila was lying the whole time, and I, Alya Cesaire, aka the Ladyblogger, unveiled them! That would make me even more popular, Alya thought. Oh, she would get popular all right, just not in the same way... ______________________________________________________________________________________

“How was your day, Alya?” her mother asked. Alya, watching the news intently, was hoping for scoops of celebrity gossip.

“It was good,” she absently replied. Her eyes were glued to the screen as Nadja Chammack’s show had just appeared.

“Don’t be bemused! It’s just the News! This is Nadja Chammack on ‘Face to Face’. Let’s start off with our most recent story. The LadyBlog, which used to be a blog dedicated to the Heroes of Paris, has fallen. The Ladyblogger has been posting false claims about a girl, Lila Rossi, saying that she rescued Jagged Stone’s kitten, when he has never had one. Now, helping us clear the claim, joining us now is internationally-known rock star, Jagged Stone! Hello, Mr. Stone. “

“Hello, Nadja, and call me Jagged. Now, what’s about these stories I’ve been hearin’ about a girl saving my kitten?”

“Well, Jagged, it’s posted on the LadyBlog that this Lila Rossi has saved your kitten on an airplane turmar, as well as claiming that you’d written a song about her. Are any of these statements actually true?”

“Kitten?! Haha, that girl is a bad liar. I’ve never had a cat, only Fang ove’ here. And writing a song about her? That sounds weird. A 30-year old man writing a song for a 15-year old? I’ve only written a song for Ladybug, and that’s because of how awesome she is! ” Jagged responded.

“On the topic of Ladybug, Lila Rossi has also claimed that she is best friends with her. Any comments?” Nadja asked.

“There’s no way Ladybug would befriend someone like her! Whoever this Lila chick is, you’re a horrible liar, and the Ladyblogger has messed up a whole lot. Anyways, I got to go, love. Good-bye, all of my beloved fans!” Jagged waved dramatically.

“There you have it! The LadyBlog has indeed been posting false claims, and Lila Rossi is a liar! Next up on Face to Face, we have Mirelle Caquet joining us to talk about the hardships of being a weather girl! Stay tuned!” Nadja concluded. Alya went pale. _______________________________________________________________________

Alya went into class the next day, and sure enough, the class was eerily quiet. Lila looked like a ghost, her face as pale as a sheet. The whole class looked angry, sans Marinette and Adrien.

“Alya, you saw Face to Face yesterday, right?” Alix asked.

“She lied! Lila lied about everything!” Rose cried.

“Yeah, I did.” Alya replied calmly. She was going to explain the situation to her classmates, and of course they’d understand why she was doing this, and maybe they’d help her spin the story to make it seem like-

“WHY DIDN'T YOU FACTCHECK?” Alix yelled, clearly furious with the situation.

“Let me explain. Don’t get mad, but I knew Lila was lying,” Alix growled, and many other classmates gasped, “But hear me out. I only kept posting her lies on the LadyBlog because of the views. I knew if I wanted an internship, I’d have to do anything to start up my career. You guys understand right?” Alya obliviously said. “YOU’RE ALMOST AS BAD AS ADRIEN NOT KNOWING MARINETTE HAS A CRUSH ON HIM!” The class blurted out. Adrien looked shocked, and Marinette gasped and turned a shade of red that shouldn’t be possible.

“Whaaaa…” Alya was confused. What did she do?

“You could’ve warned us that they were lies, Alya!” Rose sniffled.

“You only thought about yourself, not us!” Mylene attacked.

“Guys, I was doing it to help my career! Also, it wasn’t like her lies were hurting anyone!” Alya retorted.

There was a period of silence, until a confident voice flowed through the classroom. “They hurt me,” Marinette said. She calmed down about the whole crush thing, but her face was still tinted with the slightest shade of pink.

“Lila threatened me the day she came back from her supposed trip. She said that she would take all my friends and make me lonely,” Marinette left out the part about Adrien, “And I guess she was right.” Marinette turned to a confused Lila. “Thank you, Lila. You’ve shown me that my friends don’t trust me. I now know who my real friends are.” She glanced at Adrien timidly, and was relieved when he sent a timid smile back. Long before Lila’s exposure on ‘Face to Face’, Adrien took back his “take the high road” advice as soon as he heard that Lila threatened Marinette. He tried to tell his classmates, but they’d never listen to him. He helped Marinette out as much as he could.

Marinette sat back down, but not in her usual seat. She went and sat next to Adrien, who looked at her, shocked for a second, then took her hand in his.

Everyone was shocked when they learned what Lila did to Marinette. Alya started, “Girl, I’m so sorry! If I’d known she -”

“It shouldn’t matter if you knew or not. You should’ve believed me, but you didn’t. Our friendship is broken. Permanently.” Marinette stated.

“WHAT?! WHY?!” Alya demanded.

Marinette sighed. Alya truly was oblivious to her actions. “First of all, you acted like you didn’t believe me, which hurt a lot. Second, you only acted like you believed her because you wanted views on your blog! You don’t get it, Alya! Your actions cost you consequences, and I’m not sure if you understand that.”

“Bu-but,” Alya tried to stutter out, but Adrien gave her a look that mimicked his father’s.

“Lila hurt us too. She gave us false promises. She told Kim that she knew Michael Phelps, and that she’d put a good word in for him. She told Nathaniel that she’d introduce him to that super famous manga artist in Japan.” Ivan pointed out.

The class understood Ivan’s point. Alya gasped. She never really thought about it that way. I mean, nothing hurt her!

“Marinette, we’re so sorry. We understand what our actions did to you, and we apologize. We understand that you’d want some space to yourself right now.” Alix said, and the rest of the class nodded.

Marinette smiled. “Thank you for understanding. While you’ve lost my trust in you, I’d like to build up our friendship again. Alya, on the other hand, I’d like to talk to you.”

The class smiled back, and sensing Alya’s anger, shuffled out of the classroom, with Adrien leading the way to leave the two girls alone to talk. Lila blinked, and also strolled out.

“C’mon, Mari! What did I do! You understand that I only pretended to believe her because of the views, right?!” Alya started out.

“Alya, you understand, do you? Lila hurt all of us. You made a bad decision not telling the class as soon as you found out, and now you’ve lost all their trust in you. You should have told me that you knew, and shouldn’t have been so selfish about your own career. I can’t forgive you for what you’ve done. And I don’t think I can ever build up our friendship again.” Marinette walked through the door frame.

“Goodbye, Alya.”

At that moment, Alya knew she messed up. She knew she lost the LadyBlog, and her reputation was damaged, but worst of all, she lost her best friend. She only did it for the views.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tell the Truth

Prompts: aaaa the way you write angst is just *chefs kiss* wonderful. I’ve been really enjoying the butterfly project series, it has made me cry multiple times. May I request some fluff to balance the angst? - anon

Excuse me while I sob over Redemption Never Came and politely grabby hand for more angst with a happy ending (Roman angst my beloved) (Also you are an amazing fanfic artist :D) - anon

This is so heartbreaking and whumpy but so soft in the end and I would devour a second part about everyone trying to help undo all the negative patterns they've all instilled in Roman and just showing him affection and everyone's hearts breaking a little more each time he's surprised they actually want to be around him. - LadyofhteWoods

And now a part of me wants to see all those scenarios again, only this time Roman gets loved- walk in the kitchen, get a hug. Sit on the couch? Cuddle pile. Go on a quest? Bring friends, if hurt, patch up and movies. Crying in bed because you had a bad time and your brain is screaming that you suck and a wave of depression has rippled through you and you feel horrible? Have some tea… cry it out…. We’re here. - A_tiny_star_prince

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecating thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 7688

Roman lies. A lot. Maybe it's time they did something about it.

Roman’s lies don’t vanish overnight. How could they? When he’s so used to repeating them, over and over, in a horrific little mantra before he goes to sleep, how can he be expected to get rid of them in only one night?

That doesn’t make them less difficult to hear.

Janus is downstairs, helping Virgil fold up one of the blankets strewn about the living room, when he winces and hisses.

“J? You okay?”

Janus nods, jerking his head upward. Virgil follows his gaze and winces too.

“…Princey?”

“I think so.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s Roman.

“I got this,” Virgil says quietly, taking the blanket from Janus, “you go. He seems to let you help more than he lets us.”

He never really had the choice to let me.

Janus swallows heavily as he appears outside Roman’s door. The lies aren’t nearly as poisonous as they were a few days ago, but they’re strong enough to curl his tongue at the bitterness in his throat. He raises a hand to knock on the door.

The lies falter for a moment before another one floats through.

Don’t come in.

He smirks, gently pushing the door open to meet a darkened room.

“Impressive,” he says softly, making his way over to the figure in the bed and perching on the end, “that could’ve been one of mine.”

He’s rewarded with the quietest of huffs before a head shyly peeks out at him from the covers. Janus smiles and tilts his head.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Roman shuffles a little. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was summoning you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Janus glances around the room. His computer is off and shut. The bathroom light and fan are off. He looks back. “Can I help, sweetie?”

A shuffling of the blankets that’s probably supposed to be a shrug.

“Let me come find you, then,” he murmurs, standing and moving to where the head was a moment ago, “how did you get this many blankets on top of you?”

He slowly starts to move them out of the way, peeling back layer after layer, only briefly wondering whether or not Roman can breathe properly under these. It’s a careful act, one he treats with the same reverence as cleaning his gloves or his scales, creating a little cocoon of blankets as he gets further and further into the covers.

The last one puffs just the slightest amount, up and down.

So you can breathe, good.

Janus doesn’t move this one all the way out of the way, just lifts it up enough to peer inside. Roman’s little face peers back at him, partially covered by another blanket clutched tight to his chest. He looks so…child-like.

The realization makes something warm turn in Janus’s chest.

“Knock knock,” he says softly, “anyone home?”

Roman blinks. “Mm.”

“May I come in, sweetie?”

“Mm.” Roman jerks his chin toward Janus’s clothes. “Lose the sharp bits.”

Janus snaps his fingers, transforming his usual clothes into a soft yellow shirt and sleep pants. “Better?”

“Mm.”

“How did you manage to get so many blankets balanced on your bed,” Janus asks as he slips beside Roman, “mine always fall off after three.”

“Practice.” Roman shifts to make room.

Janus frowns. “Come here, sweetie, let me cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The frown deepens. “Sweetie?”

Roman buries his face a little deeper into the blanket. “You don’t like cuddling. Virgil an’ Remus said so.”

Oh, Roman…

“Come, sweetie,” he insists, tugging Roman gently into a proper hug, “there.”

“But—but—“

“I may not be as big a fan of cuddling as you and Patton,” Janus says firmly, cupping Roman’s face, “and I’m certainly the type that enjoys being tackled by Remus—“

Roman snorts.

“—but you’re upset,” he finishes gently, “and I want to help.”

Burden.

Needy.

Don’t understand boundaries.

Don’t deserve help.

Janus hisses. Roman sighs.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he assures, still cradling Roman’s face as he pulls him close, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“I know, and I—I don’t want you to leave, but—“ Roman swallows— “I just—I still don’t believe you’re here.”

Janus wraps a pair of arms around Roman’s waist and squeezes. “I’m real, I’m here.”

“I just—“

There’s another lie swirling in Roman’s brain, too nebulous to make it all the way to Janus, but present enough that it makes his mouth tingle. He leans down to kiss Roman’s forehead.

“…you said it was your job to protect the Ego.”

“That’s right, sweetie, it is.”

“I guess I…I just…”

Janus gives Roman another encouraging squeeze. Roman brings the blanket further up his face.

“…I guess I figured that if you—if you could h-hate me that much or h-hurt me that badly and not—not care, then you…maybe you…”

Janus’s heart clenches as the lie finally makes itself known.

Not worth protecting.

He pulls away, shushing the heartbroken whine that Roman makes, taking off his gloves and wrapping every arm around the poor thing. He presses another kiss to his forehead, letting the hiss out into his hair.

“That’s not true, sweetie,” he promises, “and you’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you and letting it get this far.”

And the poor thing is so tired, so weary that he goes limp in Janus’s arms, save for the blanket clutched tightly to his face. Janus frowns, opening his mouth to say that might be a little uncomfortable, what with Roman’s arms tucked between them, when he starts putting the pieces together.

Roman is still wearing a fair amount of clothing, he’s got something pressed up against his face, under his chin, and he’s got so many blankets piled on top of him that even Janus feels warm.

“And here I thought I couldn’t feel more rotten,” he whispers, carding one hand through Roman’s hair, another scratching gently between his shoulder blades, “but you must be in agony.”

A questioning hum is let out against his throat.

“You’re still touch starved, sweetie,” he says in way of answering, squeezing a little tighter, “are you still cold?”

There’s a soft rush of breath as Janus cups the back of his neck and then a noise is just about torn from his throat as he uses it to pull Roman close.

“Oh, shh, shh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “I’m right here, sweetie, I won’t leave you.”

They lie there for a while longer, Roman’s arms slowly lowering the blanket until he shyly puts his arms around Janus in return.

“There you go, sweetie,” he encourages, “hold onto me, that’s it.”

“Why—why are you letting me hug you?”

“Because it seems like you’d like to hug me.” Janus squeezes him again. “You don’t need to have a reason, sweetie, if you need a cuddle, you can have one.”

I need a reason. I need an excuse. I need an argument. I have to convince you.

Another hiss. “You can always ask for hugs, sweetie, you don’t need to convince me to hug you.”

“…really?”

Oh, Roman… “Yes, sweetie, you can ask any of us.”

The wave of disbelief that hits him makes him grit his teeth.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise.” Another kiss to his forehead. “You’re not unwanted, you’re not a burden.”

The silence he gets implies that Roman may not want to prove that—or disprove it—for himself right now.

“…can we just stay here for a bit?”

“For as long as you need, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, settling them in for some rest, “for as long as you want.”

——————————

Patton is in the kitchen, the first one downstairs this morning. There’s already a pot of coffee brewing and he sets the kettle up on the counter. He reaches up to pull the mugs for everyone. The plain black one for Logan, the Nightmare Before Christmas one for Virgil, the sparkly one for Remus, and the blue puppy one for himself. He frowns.

Roman used to keep his mug down here too. This really big red one with a golden crown on the side. He hasn’t seen it in ages.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He turns and sees Roman walk into the kitchen, smiling brightly as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, not a seam or stitch of his prince costume out of place. He strides into the room like he owns it, as if he’s just come down the stairs in his resplendent palace to a crown of adoring onlookers.

“Ah! Patton!” Goodness, he speaks like it too. “Good morning!”

“Roman!” Patton rushes forward and wraps him in a hug.

This is where everything goes wrong.

Roman tenses. Not in a way that means he wants out, but out of sheer surprise. Patton waits for Roman’s arms to wrap around him but instead, there’s just a very, very soft touch to his shoulder.

“Patton,” he asks quietly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great, kiddo, why?”

“W-well, you’re…you’re hugging me.”

“Sure am.”

“…why?”

Suddenly Patton feels very cold.

He pulls back, not enough to let Roman go completely, but enough to look up and see a truly heartbreaking look of confusion on his face. He can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his mouth as he raises one hand to his face.

“Are you asking why I’m hugging you?” Roman nods. “I want to hug you, kiddo. You’re hug-shaped.”

“I’m…what?”

“Hug-shaped,” Patton repeats, tugging him a little closer with the arm still around his waist, “you’re worth hugging, I like hugging you.”

“O-oh.”

And Patton has to watch as every scrap of confidence falls from Roman’s expression, his shoulders slump, and he looks like he loses some of his height, even. The shift is so drastic that it almost springs tears to his eyes at how much Prince Roman suddenly looks like a lost child, swimming in a costume too big and too heavy for him. Roman face contorts as he looks at a spot on the counter, furrowing his brow as if it’ll explain everything to him if he just glares hard enough.

There’s something fragile about the way Roman leans into Patton’s hand, something breakable about how warm he is right now. Patton shifts his weight to his other leg and there’s a flash of panic in Roman’s eyes, quickly stifled but there.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling Roman back in for a proper hug, “I’m right here, it’s okay. You just let it out, okay?”

Roman’s breathe shudders a little into Patton’s shoulder. Then he starts pushing Patton away.

Patton listens, confused, until he watches Roman shake himself and put the mask of the prince right back on.

“Terribly sorry,” he says in the awful, awful cheerful voice as he rakes a hand through his hair, “don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t,” Patton blurts before he can stop himself, “don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do what, Padre?”

“Don’t pretend,” he says, reaching out for Roman again, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Or that you don’t want something.”

“I don’t like being needy, Patton,” Roman says in a soft voice that’s just this side of wobbly, “and you don’t like me needy.”

And doesn’t that just feel hot and guilty in Patton’s throat?

“I like you, sweetheart,” he says instead, “and you’re not being needy if you want comfort or even just a touch. You’re allowed to want something, Roman, you are.”

Roman huffs in disbelief and turns.

“No, Roman—“ Patton hurries to get in front of him— “you are.”

Something flickers across Roman’s expression. Patton doesn’t even need Janus to tell him that Roman thinks he’s walking into a trap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Patton says quietly, “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I? I’ve made you think that your job is wrong, that you—that you’re wrong and you’re not, kiddo. You’re not wrong. You’re not awful. I promise.”

Roman’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Patton coos, wrapping him back in a hug, and finally, finally Roman’s arms come up to wrap around him too, before he’s being squeezed so tight it borders on painful.

Patton doesn’t care.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” He rocks them back and forth a little as Roman buries his face in his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, I know we will.”

They stay like that until the kettle goes off and Roman startles, jumping back a little bit. Patton soothes away the last of the jitters and smiles, watching Roman look like…Roman. Not the Prince, not the horribly lost child, just…just Roman.

“I think that’s my cue to make you the biggest mug of hot chocolate you’ve had since Christmas,” he says quietly, “now what mug would you like?”

Roman glances at the cabinet. “Anyone is fine.”

“Then why don’t you go grab one while I get the hot chocolate?”

Patton busies himself with the box, purposely letting Roman have his privacy as he picks out a mug, trying not to make his smile too blinding when he turns and sees Roman shyly hold out a big red mug with a sparkly crown.

“Good choice,” he says softly as he takes it from him, “I missed this mug.”

Judging by the way Roman’s mouth curls up in a little smile, he knows what Patton meant.

——————————

Virgil walks into the room and sees Roman sprawled out across the chair. He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s got to give it to Janus; even though he knows he can hear lies, he’s not sure he would’ve believed that they were actually coming from Roman. Because Roman looks the fucking picture of relaxed right now. It looks like he saw Patton and Logan on the couch and decided there wasn’t enough room for him to take up as much space as he wants. It looks like he’s occupying the entire fucking corner and not just the chair. It looks like he’s every bit the arrogant prince they used to think he was.

Then he sees how tight his jaw is and the slight tremble of his hands.

The room isn’t warm, there’s no reason for Princey to be shivering. There’s certainly no reason for him to be so tense as he sits in the chair, tapping a pen against his cheek in a fabulous impression of mindless thinking but is actually a carefully controlled way of preventing himself from moving any further.

He’s gotta hand it to him. Princey’s good.

Virgil walks up to Roman and shoves his hands into his pockets as Roman looks up.

“Dark and Stormy,” he says in a perfected casual lilt, “is there something I can do for you?”

And wow, okay, if this is what Janus hears all the time then Virgil has no idea how he fucking does it.

Janus hears lies, Virgil hears fears.

Please don’t make me leave.

If you want the chair I’l give it to you, I’ll move, I’ll sit on the floor, I’ll be quiet, but please don’t make me go. I want to stay, please, can I—can I stay? Is that okay?

Virgil tilts his head. “Move the book.”

Roman furrows his brow. “What?”

“The book.” Virgil nods to the notebook in Roman’s lap. “Move it. Move your arm.”

Confused, Roman does as he asks only to squeak in surprise when Virgil pronounces it perfect and plonks himself in Roman’s lap.

“Virgil!”

“Yeah?” Virgil pulls out his phone and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“You—you’re—“ Roman still doesn’t move— “you’re in my lap.”

“Sure am.” Virgil looks up at him and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No?”

Roman’s voice drops too. “What?”

Virgil indicates his weight. “No? This okay?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine, I just—what?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Virgil reaches behind him to take Roman’s free hand and pull it close, tucking it under his chin and clutching it there. Roman’s hand trembles. He finds himself absentmindedly running his thumb over the knuckles, the palm, the fingers. He keeps his eyes on Roman’s face.

Roman’s other arm lowers, gingerly resting on Virgil’s legs. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Princey,” he whispers, “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Roman’s face twitches. “…so have I.”

“What, been awful to me or awful to you?”

For a moment, he thinks Roman’s just going to say that he’s been awful to Virgil. Which, yes, he was in the past, but not like Virgil’s been. But instead, Roman opens his mouth and shakily whispers: ‘both.’

“I know, Princey.” Virgil squeezes his hand again. “You’re all good with me, and we can…if you want, I can help with the second part too.”

Roman’s eyes widen and godfuckingdamnit that hurts.

“I gotcha, Roman,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together, “and ‘m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently.”

Roman swallows, Virgil’s eyes drawn to the roll of his throat. “You…you want to help me?”

Roman, you’re gonna ruin my reputation of not having a heart by smashing it into fucking pieces.

“Yeah, Roman,” he reassures, “I wanna help you. You’re important.”

“I am?”

“Sure are, Princey.” He lightly knocks his head against Roman’s. “And if it ever feels like I don’t believe that, call me out on my bullshit. ‘Cause that’s bullshit.”

“What are you two muttering about over there?” Patton shakes his head fondly when Virgil decides to just turn his head upside down instead of turning around. “Virgil, that’s not good for your spine.”

“We’re metaphysical, Pop-star, who cares?”

“When you start complaining about neck pain,” Logan says wryly, “me.”

He glances up too and Virgil hides a smirk at how his face softens when he spots Roman’s expression.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Roman says hurriedly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s Hug Roman time,” Virgil says immediately after, “so I’m hugging Roman.”

“I think that’s less of a hug than you sitting on his lap,” Logan says, standing, “but we’ll never fit all of us on that chair.”

Virgil feels more than hears Roman’s inhale as Logan and Patton start moving the couch cushions to the floor. He sits back upright just in time to see Roman’s hopeful face and butts his head against his again.

“Come on, Princey, let’s go.”

“…are you going to stand up, or…?”

“Or you could carry me.”

“Virgil,” he hears Patton chide.

“No, no,” Roman says, “it’s fine, I can carry him if he wants to be carried. I will need my hand back, though.”

Okay, yes, Virgil does enjoy Roman carrying him a bit too much for altruistic purposes but it’s worth it when Roman goes to gently set him down and the other two pull him down instead.

“There,” Logan says softly as Roman’s head comes to rest against the base of the couch, “much better.”

Roman opens his mouth to say something when Logan’s hand tangles in his hair and it turns into a slightly strangled sound. Patton chuckles, wrapping his arms around Roman and sighing softly.

“Hey, who wants to play a game?”

Remus’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“We’re already playing a game,” Virgil says, “it’s called Cuddle Roman, now get your butt down here.”

Remus gasps. “My favorite!”

“Okay good,” Virgil mutters as he moves out of Roman’s lap to make room for Remus, “I totally thought he was talking about butts.”

“I have a feeling, my dear,” Janus sighs, striding from the shadows and totally not making Virgil jump, “that it’s both.”

Remus just cackles. Janus takes a seat, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands in his. Roman frowns at him slightly, his head still spinning from the amount of people around him.

“What—is there something wrong?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s Hug Roman hours. So I’m here.”

Vigil chuckles at the blush on Roman’s face. “So this is becoming a regular thing, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“Yay!”

Remus just holds his brother tighter.

——————————

“…come in.”

“If you’d like to reschedule, Roman, it’s no trouble, I’m happy to…”

Logan trails off as he walks into the room, Roman’s back to him as he hunches over a table near the door to the Imagination. He shuts the door quietly behind him and tucks the notebook under his arm.

“Roman?” He takes a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“Never better, Specs,” Roman says cheerily, too cheerily, “just give me one moment and I’m all yours.”

Logan frowns. “If you’d like to reschedule, Roman,” he repeats, softer this time, “I can assure you, it’s fine.”

“No, no, that’d be rude.” Something crinkles in Roman’s hands. “Just—just one moment.”

There’s a heavy clunk and a barely contained hiss.

“Roman—“ he starts forward— “are you hurt?”

“Not hurt.” Another clunk. “Just��incredibly clumsy, it seems.”

“Can I help?”

If he weren’t paying attention, he would miss the way Roman’s shoulders tense with disbelief.

“N-no, that’s alright,” Roman says, the first time his voice has slipped, “I’m just…no, it’s alright.”

He jerks his head toward the desk, being very careful not to let Logan see his face.

“It’s over there, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Logan looks, then walks over to the desk and carefully sets down his notebook. He glances up at Roman and can’t stop the soft noise at seeing Roman’s hands shake and fumble with a large bottle.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “Roman, please.”

Roman freezes.

“…please what?”

“Let me help you,” he says, walking over, “let me help you with this.”

Roman shudders and tries to laugh again. “You don’t need to busy yourself with inane and worthless tasks, Logan.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“You’re not inane or worthless, Roman,” he says firmly, “nor are you a task.”

Roman’s shoulder is cold under his hand. He cups it nonetheless and leans closer, mindful to keep his gaze down and away.

“Please?”

Under his hand, Roman sighs. “…if that’s what you want.”

He’s not prepared for when Roman turns around, a bottle of micellar water in one hand and cotton ovals in the other. His makeup—done so wonderfully this morning—is smeared and wearing away, his nose bright red under the concealer. Logan lets out another soft noise, taking the proffered items and gently pushing Roman to sit on the table.

He takes one of the cotton ovals and gets it damp, cupping Roman’s chin in one hand.

“Let me know if anything starts to sting or hurt,” he instructs softly and starts to clean the smudges from his face. Roman sits perfectly still, his gaze down at Logan’s tie. His hands fold neatly in his lap and he looks every bit the cooperative ideal.

Except for the way he looks terrified every time Logan so much as shifts his hand.

“You are not worthless,” Logan says quietly as he works, swapping out the cotton ovals when needed, “you are not annoying me. You are someone I care about very deeply and someone I enjoy helping.”

Roman’s chin wobbles.

“I am always impressed by the ideas you create,” he continues after quietly bidding Roman to turn slightly, “and you never cease to amaze me with your creativity.”

Roman’s throat works against his hand as he swallows. “Remus—“

“Remus is Remus,” Logan interrupts gently, “turn—yes, there you go—and you are Roman. You are clever, you are kind, and you are wonderful, and I care about you very much.”

He takes a new cotton oval and takes Roman’s chin again, tapping gently until Roman makes eye contact.

“Close your eyes,” he bids, “and let me know if they start to sting at any point.”

Roman closes his eyes and Logan carefully, carefully starts to clean off the eyeshadow. The golden sparkles are stubborn, clinging to the skin, but he works patiently until the last of them come off. He realizes after that the oval is wetter than it was when he began.

“Oh, little star,” he breathes, glancing around and summoning a soft washcloth to clean Roman’s face the rest of the way, “it’s alright, you can cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

“It’s stupid,” Roman mutters, raising a hand to swipe angrily at the tears, “it’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, it’s not stupid.” Logan gently but firmly places Roman’s hands on his own shoulders and replaces them with the cloth. “Tell me?”

“I—it’s not even a quest.” Roman’s voice cracks horribly on the last word. “It’s just—I was making something and it broke and I—I worked really hard on it and now it’s ruined.”

Logan lets out a soft noise. “I’m sorry.”

His chest aches when the apology makes Roman shake himself. “It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t want to just dump that on you.”

“I asked you to tell me what was wrong,” Logan chides, patting his cheek dry, “you’re not dumping anything on me.”

He sets the cloth aside and cups Roman’s face with his hands.

“And I am also sorry,” he whispers, “that I have made you believe that I do not worry about you the same way I worry about Thomas.”

Roman’s eyes fly open. “You—you what?”

“I care about you very deeply, Roman,” Logan says, “you’re very important to me. So yes, of course, I worry about you. You’re upset, and I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me. I…I have not behaved well toward you. And I will remedy that.”

A new wave of tears meets Logan’s thumbs carefully swiping them away.

“Bonk?”

Roman leans forward and lets Logan rest their foreheads together. After a moment, his hands move to give Roman a proper hug, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“What were you making, if I may ask?”

“…just a house.” Roman sniffles. “It got destroyed in the last brainstorm.”

“Would you like help?”

“…don’t we have to work on the ideas?”

Logan smiles, resting their foreheads together once more. “This feels more important, doesn’t it?”

Roman’s small but warm smile is more than worth the extra hours they’ll have to spend working on the videos.

——————————

Somehow they forgot.

Somehow they forgot that Roman was scared of the dark.

It wasn’t common that thunderstorms plagued the Imagination, simply because—well, Thomas didn’t need literal brainstorms when he’s got Logan working with him. Sure, sometimes Remus decides he’s going to make his entrance extra cliché and arrive in a literal flash of lightning. Or Roman will create a field of flowers larger than the eye can see and soft bruised purple clouds will roll across the sky, quiet thunder and light rain that feels like a cushion.

But it’s never enough to cause a blackout.

For a moment, they’re all just confused. Thomas’s apartment is fine, Thomas is fine, so they don’t understand what’s happened. Then Remus points out that they, uh, maybe didn’t close the door to the Imagination as tightly as they should have.

He gets smacked upside the head for that.

So they’re here, in the middle of the dark, trying frantically to figure out how to not run into everything. Well, three of them are fine. Virgil can see in the dark. Janus can see in the dark. Remus can see in the dark.

“Is that because you’re the Dark Sides,” Patton mumbles as he puts his glasses back on for the fifth time in the past minute, “or do you each have some kind of ability?”

Remus smiles, even if Patton can’t see it. “It’s more fun!”

“That doesn’t—“ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose— “that doesn’t even answer the question, Remus.”

“I think you’ll find that’s his justification for most things,” Janus says wryly, taking Patton carefully by the arm and guiding him to sit on the couch, safely out of harm’s way.

Virgil elbows Remus to get him to put down the Morningstar, please, and sits down next to Patton. “How long is this going to take to go away?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Probably won’t be that long. We all just gotta sit tight.”

Janus raises a hand to his mouth—not that Logan can truly appreciate his expression—and mock gasps. “Remus, suggesting that we don’t do anything?”

“Oh, fuck off, Snakey.”

“Language!”

Remus blows a fat raspberry. “Even I know it’s a bad idea to try and do something right now. I mean ask Roman—“

It takes a moment for them to realize that Roman isn’t sitting there.

“We should go get him,” Logan says after a moment, “just to make sure we’re all in the same place.”

And with that, Remus is off, stomping up the stairs and conveniently forgetting that two Sides can’t see past the little pinpricks of light at the bottom of the windows. Virgil rolls his eyes and makes to stand, only to frown.

“Virgil?” Logan touches his elbow when he notices him pause. “Are you alright?”

“Feels like I’m being summoned.” He rubs his chest absentmindedly. “But not really.”

“Well, let’s just keep an eye on—hey!”

Virgil doesn’t even hear the end of Logan’s sentence before he’s yanked into another room.

He blinks, disoriented, shaking his head to figure out where he is. Only when Remus bursts up the stairs and pouts that how dare Virgil sink out to beat him here does he realize why he’s here.

Judging by the way Remus’s face falls a second later, he does too.

Remus knocks lightly on the door. After a moment, he curses and goes to knock louder.

“Don’t,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Remus’s arm, “you’re gonna freak him out more.”

“Well, I can’t just blow the fucking door open,” he growls, shaking him off, “that’s gonna make it worse.”

He opens his mouth but another sharp tug from his chest makes him wince. “Okay, then don’t bust it down. Just—oh, god, we gotta get in there.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Remus doesn’t rear back and kick the door open, which says something about how concerned he is. They can’t see much of anything except for—

—oh.

Oh, no.

Roman notices immediately when the blackout happens. How could he not? He’d been in the middle of trying to sort out his journal for the day when suddenly he was drowning.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Within an instant, his chest seizes. He can’t see. He can’t see. There’s something—

No. No, it’s fine. He’s in his room. Everything is fine. Because he’s safe. He’s in his room, he knows where everything is, he knows what everything is in here, he’s fine.

There’s nothing here to be scared of. There’s nothing here to be scared of.

So why is Roman so scared?

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. He’s a prince, for Disney’s sake, he’s the protector of the Mindscape, he’s—he’s—

He’s Prince Roman. Not some newly minted squire crying because he’s away from home for the first time and it’s all dark and scary and he can’t see anything because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t tell where anything is and he swears he can see things moving in the shadows and—and—and—

Roman shoves his fist in his mouth before he can whimper.

No. No. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

…besides, what would the others say?

He’s a prince. He’s Roman. He’s not some scared weak thing. He’s just—he’s just—it’s—it’s—

They can’t see him like this. He’s supposed to be strong. He’ll never be taken seriously if they don’t see that he can be strong. They don’t take him seriously already, do they? Let alone if they could see him in the dark, alone, hyperventilating, terrified.

But he is.

He’s—he—

Something moves.

Oh, god, something moved.

He freezes, goes absolutely still, tries frantically to still his heaving chest, be small, be unnoticeable, his pride doesn’t matter right now, it doesn’t, he’s not gonna be hurt if he can’t be seen—

“Ro-Bro?”

His next inhale is a whine.

No, no, not Remus—he can’t—not Remus, Remus is strong, Remus will laugh at him, Remus loves the dark, he can’t cry in front of Remus, not for this—

“Oh, Ro-Bro,” he hears through the haze, “Ro-Bro, I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot, hey—hey—“

He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry.

“Hey,” Remus calls, tugging carefully at the hand clapped over his mouth, “hey, don’t do that, Roro, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop it, it’s gonna fucking hurt if you do that, you know that—“

The sob that tears itself out of his throat as Remus pries his hand away hurts his ears.

“Hey, Roro,” Remus soothes, taking his hands and squeezing them firmly, “hey, you gotta just be here for me, you focus on me, okay?”

“Re—“

“Come here, Ro.”

Remus scoops him up into his lap. To hell with whatever is twisting around in the shadows, Remus is holding him in his lap, rocking him back and forth and Remus is of the dark.

A rush of shame through his stomach and the first real sob into Remus’s shoulder hurts.

“Nuh-uh, Ro,” comes the mutter over his head, “don’t hold it in.”

The shame only grows. Then Remus tightens his grip until it’s all he can feel.

“I’m right here, Ro, I’m right here. It’s okay. You can be scared.”

“N-not scared.”

A gentle hiss in his ear as something—someone presses against his back and more arms than he can count wrap around his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Remus murmurs as he starts, “it’s just Janny.”

“Boo,” Janus whispers as he presses a kiss on his shoulder. Why—why is he here—did he—did he lie too much? He’s not scared, he’s not scared—

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers as Roman starts to flinch, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, sweetie, stop that. We’ve got you.”

“You’re scared, bud.” Is that—is that Virgil? “Hey, hey, buddy, we got you. I’m sorry, Roman, I forgot you were so scared of the dark.”

Can’t be scared, can’t be scared—

“Shh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “stop that. You’re allowed to be scared, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Virgil presses closer, nudging Janus’s head out of the way and replacing it with his own. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Roman’s neck, finding the place his collar digs into his neck and loosening it. Curse him. Curse him.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no—“

Janus hisses gently in his ear again.

“No—“ Roman’s breath hitches— “no, no, no—“

“Roman,” comes Logan’s warm voice from somewhere above him, and no—

“Give him to me,” he hears again after a moment, and when he feels Remus’s arms begin to loosen and Janus pulls away he mewls—

“Hush, little one,” Logan says softly, gathering the poor prince into his lap, “you’re safe, you’re right here, it’s just a blackout.”

“You’ll—“ Roman hiccups, his hands still pushing Logan away from him— “you’ll laugh—“

“Never,” comes the chorus, Logan’s arms firmly around his waist. Then another pair of hands covers his and pulls them away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, gently but firmly placing his arms around Logan’s neck so Logan can cuddle him properly, “sorry it took us a little longer to get here, we had to take it slow up the stairs.”

“Pat—Pat—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, crouching down to run a hand through his hair as Logan tucks him into the crook of his neck and Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, “we’re all here, it’s okay.”

“Stupid—st—stupid,” Roman mumbles, “I’m stupid—“

Another hiss, followed by a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Stop lying, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “stop it. You’re not stupid.”

“I’m a prince afraid of the dark,” Roman spits out, disgusted, “of course I’m stupid.”

“Falsehood,” Logan murmurs with more tenderness than Roman can remember, “you’re not stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m crying because I’m afraid of the dark,” he spits again, “I’m af-fraid of the dark—I’m afraid of the dark, I’m—I’m afraid—“

He’s afraid of the dark.

Patton presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t like the dark either, sweetheart.”

“You’re—you’re not—you’re not crying—“

“No, I’m not.” Another kiss. “But you are, Roman, and that’s okay.”

“Come on, Princey.” Virgil butts his head gently against Roman’s. “You just gotta breathe first, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus calls from somewhere over his shoulder—what has he been doing? Where’s he been?— “come on, I got all the pillows.”

“Re?”

“Come on, Ro-Bro,” Remus murmurs, appearing at his other shoulder, “close your eyes.”

“It’s already d-dark, Re.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna get the blanket in your eyes.” Suddenly, there’s a swath of fabric hitting him in the face. “It’s just for a moment, Roro.”

“Ready?” Logan scoops him up. “Up we go.”

“H-how can you see?”

“He can’t,” Janus says, suddenly appearing behind him, “but I can. Come now, my prince, we’re just over here, come on…”

Roman lets out a soft noise of surprise when his back hits something soft.

“Snap yourself into something more comfortable, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’re all just going to stay here for a while.”

Patton takes his hand and kisses the back of it as Logan helps tug down the t-shirt he’s poofed himself into.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, “I’m sorry I’m so scared.”

“None of that now, sweetheart,” Patton chides, cuddling into his side—oh, Patton’s in soft things too now— “you’re gonna be taken care of now. We’re right here.”

“I’m right here, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, promptly flopping down over Roman’s legs, “and no one else is going anywhere.”

Virgil huffs, curling around his head and ruffling his hair. “He’s right, Princey. Just relax for a little.”

“H-how long is the blackout going to last?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Janus says, snuggling into his other side, taking his hand between two of his, “but we’ll be here the whole time. Now please, sweetie, breathe.”

He tries. But it’s still dark and even though he knows the others are here, he can still feel the darkness pressing in on top of him. He can still see things moving in the shadows. He can feel it. He can see it. It hurts.

“Roman,” comes Logan’s voice, warm in the dark, “Roman, listen to me.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, dear,” he says, “it’s alright. Virgil is by your head, and he can see in the dark.”

Virgil gives his hair a little tug. “Right here, Princey. I’ve got you.”

“Patton is on your left. He won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses his cheek. “I won’t leave you.”

“Janus is on your right. He can also see in the dark, and it’s his job to protect you.”

Janus leans down to kiss his temple and squeezes his hand. “My prince,” he murmurs tenderly, “my sweetie.”

“And Remus…”

“Nothing’s laying a fucking finger on you, Ro-Bro,” Remus growls from down by his feet, “they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

Logan chuckles. “See?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, little star,” he says softly, “what do you need?”

“W—where are you?” Roman’s hands tense in Patton’s and Janus’s. “Where—I—I can’t—“

“Hush now,” Logan says, so softly, so softly, as a hand cups his cheek to brush away his tears, “I’m right here, I know you can’t see me. I’m sorry. I know it’s dark. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay, my dear, shh.”

Roman tries to reach out for him only to be thwarted by the grip on his hands.

“Hush, Roman, it’s alright, what can I do?”

“S-stay, please, stay—I want you to stay—“

“I’m right here, can I—“

“Please—“

He almost sobs again with relief when Logan lies down, his head tucked over his shoulder, curling his arms about his waist.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses the back of his hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, Princey.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Roro.”

It takes another half an hour for the storm to end and the lights to flicker back on. Roman stays tucked up in their arms, their soft words in his ear, gentle hands wiping away his tears, until he can blink up at all of them and murmur ‘thank you.’

“Of course, sweetie.”

“We’re here for you, Roman.”

“It’s no problem, Princey.”

“We’ve got you, kiddo.”

“All you gotta do is ask, Roro.”

——————————

Remus knocks on the door, the present in his hands. Roman opens the door and tilts his head.

“Re?”

“Can I come in, Ro-Bro?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Roman shuts the door. “What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Remus says, holding out the box.

“Oh—Remus, I didn’t—I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t miss anything, Ro,” Remus says quickly, “and I’m not expecting anything in return. Just wanted to give you something.”

He shuffles.

“And I, uh, I also haven’t really apologized for the shit I’ve done to you, so…it’s that too.”

“O-oh.” Roman clutches the box. “Thank you, Remus. Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He watches as Roman carefully opens the box and pulls out the stuffed octopus.

“Oh, Re, this is so cute!” He holds it up, looking at the little face. “I love it, thank you.”

He turns it over.

“Wait, what’s…”

“It’s a mood toy,” Remus says quietly, “if you flip it this way, it’s happy.”

The cream side of the octopus has a little smiley face.

“And if you turn it inside out—“ Roman flips the plush so that a red face frowns at him— “it’s sad.”

Roman’s eyes widen and he looks up at Remus.

“I know you find it hard to ask for things,” Remus says, edging a bit closer, “so I thought this could…help.”

“Re…”

“And I—oof!” Remus lets out a grunt as Roman tackles him onto the bed. He chuckles, his arms wrapping tightly around his brother. “I’m glad you like it Roro, just promise me you’ll use it?”

He gets his request a few days later.

It’s been quiet, Thomas is taking a break, and they’re all in various corners of the living room. Janus and Virgil are lazing about in the patch of sun by the window, Patton is in the kitchen, Logan is working on something on his laptop, and Remus is toying with the grip on his Morningstar.

Roman walks down the stairs and he’s clutching a little red octopus.

“Hey, Ro,” Remus says quietly, hopping up and scurrying over to meet him as he comes down the stairs, “you wanna go be alone?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing gingerly into the living room. Remus turns to see everyone paying attention to them, including Janus, who’s sat up fully and is reaching out to Roman.

“Come here, sweetie,” he calls, “is your brain being a bastard?”

Distantly, Remus hears Patton huff at the language but no one says a word as Janus gathers Roman into his chest, bending to murmur softly in his ear. Virgil scoots closer, acting as the guardian, letting Roman relax with the knowledge that nothing will surprise him right now. A gentle tap on Remus’s shoulder and he turns to see Logan, who bends closer.

“What do we do to help?”

“Help me make a mattress big enough for all of us?”

Under Logan’s guidance, Remus manages to make a normal mattress with lots of comfy blankets and pillows. Patton comes from the kitchen with a glass of water set on the table near the three on the floor. He pauses as he turns and quickly sets a cup of tea next to it.

Roman’s grip on the octopus doesn’t lighten up, even after he’s been in Janus’s arms for a while, even after Logan’s gone over and helped Virgil walk him through coming out of the spiral. Janus walks over to Remus and Patton and quietly tells them they should try and get them all to eat something. Nothing too straining for Roman’s system, but something.

Patton brings out a few bowls of snack food and sets them at the foot of the mattress. Then he goes and gently cards his hands through Roman’s hair.

“Come on, kiddos,” he says softly, “let’s move to the mattress.”

Logan scoops Roman into his arms, depositing him safely in the center of the mattress, little red octopus in tow. The rest of them cuddle around him, some Disney movie playing on the TV. Roman eats, then lays his head on Remus’s shoulder. Logan takes Roman’s free hand into his lap and cradles it there, stroking it with his thumb.

About halfway through the movie, Roman turns the octopus so that the cream side smiles at the screen too.

General:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day Four

Prompt: Rope Play w/ Neji

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Rope Play, Praise, Soft Dom, Sex || Characters: Neji Hyuuga, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Don't move, (Y/N). I've already told you twice." Neji's irritated voice sounded from above you, followed by a sigh, "It will only make it hurt."

"But what if I want that~?" You teased with a smirk on your face and even though you couldn't see your boyfriend through the blindfold, you could feel his steely gaze.

He scoffed, "and how many times must I remind you, if you move while I'm tying, it will only result in your limbs going numb. Is that really the pain you want? You're well aware how long it takes to get you out of my rope. Now just hush and keep still, beloved."

No matter how annoyed Neji was with your antics, he always reminded you that his words weren't out of ire. The pet name tacked on to the end of his mini lecture was proof enough of that. So, you heed his warning and tried to stay as still as possible while the velvety rope was wound around your body expertly. Truly, he wasn't kidding when he said it took a while to get you out of his ropes, but it took even longer to get in them. Neji was an expert ropes master by now and you were his prized canvas. The shapes he created on your body were his masterpieces, each created with the utmost love. His fingers led the rope deftly around you, going even as far as undoing parts just to redo them. Everything had to be perfect, it's what you deserve after all.

As his hands deftly wound around your wrists, he pressed soft kisses into your neck. The kisses were light and barely there, until he made it to the one spot he knew you were most sensitive. When he reaches it, he licked your neck before sucking on the skin. You moaned much to his approval and the hand that wasn't holding the rope brushed up your arm, tracing over the material already wound around it. Ever the secret artist, Neji left an array of hickies along the back of your neck and shoulders. Those were definitely going to be a problem for future you. Right now though, you chose to focus on the rope that was finally being finished off after what seemed like an eternity.

"You're gorgeous," his tone was so much softer than before, every word dripping in adoration for you to the point where it made your face heat up, "Are you ready to see, my love?"

"Yes please."

With your answer, he untied your blindfold, light returning to your vision as you took in the sight of yourself in the mirror. His rope work was never something to laugh at. Hell, he never did anything short of perfection and this was clear when you took in every carefully planned knot and twist. Neji brushed his fingers against your hair, just barely touching you. In scenes like this he was always nearly afraid to touch you, as if you were made of glass. The heart shape left in the middle of your chest was a nice touch, usually he only did shapes with sharp edges and right corners. Meaning, he went out of his comfort zone this time and the thought was endearing. Another kiss was left on the unabused side of your neck, his hands wandering over his handiwork and lingering on the places where your flesh bulged in between the ropes.

After an inhale of breath Neji spoke again, his voice deeper now, "You look absolutely intoxicating."

His hands met yours and intertwined your fingers together. Next, your lips met, first in gentle embrace which quickly became more feverish and desperate. Sitting still and waiting as the material was wound around you, only moving when he asked, it was downright torture on a horny bitch. And so when you finally met his lips it was hard to hold back, you just wanted to show him how much you appreciated him making you this pretty. Though if you would voice it out loud with words he'd be quick to assure you that it was you who made the rope pretty, not the other way around. His hands wandered down to your tied together legs and gently pushed you to lean on your side. The new angle gave him access to your wetness from behind and he took advantage of it. He fingers moved up and down, smirking slightly at just how soaked you were from his tying.

A heavy sigh left your lips and you embraced the position more, fully laying down on your side. Neji's free hand continued to run over your skin while the other slowly slipped inside of your heat. He slowly fucked his finger into you before adding another. The rope on your thighs dug in as you tried to separate them to no avail. Another finger invaded you, this time curling and you moaned into the bedsheets.

"Let me hear you, my love. Your sounds are too delectable to hide."

His words alone had you moaning again, this time giving in and lifting your head. Your hips moved back onto his fingers before they completely left you altogether. Not evening giving you enough time to voice your contempt, Neji was helping you position yourself face down ass up on the bed. Or, at least, as ass up as you could get considering you couldn't bend your knees. Still, the sight was intoxicating to him and he attentively put pillows under your hips to help. Your tied arms outstretched in front of you gripped the sheets as Neji slowly slid into you. He bottomed out and groaned, hands running up and down the ropes along your hips. The feeling of him was always breathtaking, stretching you so pleasantly and thrusting solely to pleasure you. His first pace was always agonizingly slow, leaving you breathing heavily and nearly begging for more.

But Neji would never make you beg, no, he was far too infatuated with you to force you to beg on nights like these. Instead, he would whisper more sweet nothings into your ear, playing with your tightly tied breasts. It was good for distracting you for a while until he picked up the pace a bit. His hips kept moving, always trying to find that special spot of yours. And when he did he wouldn't leave it alone. You gasped and pushed your hips back into his and he knew he found it. That's when the show really began. His pace quickened and Neji's grip on your hips tightened, lifting you up to meet his cock. Both of your moans and pants mixed in the air between curses and prayers. The obscene sound of your hips meeting only makes you feel hotter as he kept abusing your g spot, practically daring you to go ahead and cum. Finally, you gave in to the suggestion, yelling out his name as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm shook your whole body, toes curling and pussy clenching. Neji was lucky to be able to fuck you through your orgasm but before you come down he's spiraling down his own climax. He grunts and holds your hips flush to his as his cock twitches inside of you. The aftermath is blissful as you two pant almost in unison, Neji slumped against your back. After regaining the willpower in his legs he slowly pulls out of you, admiring how his cum looks dripping out of you, contrasting the dark color of the rope. It doesn't last long though as he knows you need to be untied. With that he sets about the task, unraveling the rope at only a slightly faster pace than before.

"You were heavenly. I wish I could replay it on command. You're a work of art, beloved. You took it so well too."

His words barely stopped giving you praises as he untied and unwound your body from its aesthetic cage. To add to the praise, with every inch of skin he released, he'd kiss it tenderly. Most nights you found yourself lost in the hazy after sex thoughts about how he could kiss you constantly yet still talk so much. Not like you minded, having Neji talk was something you rarely were able to experience much in public. Given his quiet, stoic nature it was a stark contrast, a very welcome one. Especially given the topic his words were about. Your legs finally free, you stretched them out while Neji rubbed them, savoring in the indents the rope left. His hands slid up your legs and continued the process on your torso, deftly untying the knots.

Once you were finally free of the restraints you cupped your hand around Neji's cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. Now that you were basking in your post orgasm, sleep began to hit you. It felt so pleasant to be so satisfied and sleepy. As if all was right with the world and really, if Neji was by your side it was alright. His hands cleaned you up with a warm washcloth that you weren't exactly sure when he got. Still, the action was endearing, because heaven knows you did not want to get out of bed now. While he returned the washcloth you snuggled underneath the covers, reveling in his reappearance. As if he'd be able to resist coming back to you. Neji climbed into your waiting embrace and returned it happily as his arms wrapped around you. Sweet kisses were pressed to the top of your head as sleep quickly overtook the both of you. If every night you could fall asleep like this, that would truly be the best life.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :)

[va9art]

I think I’ve been quiet for way too long and I should come back and fangirl about it.

Before I go down the many lines of praises I have to just to let you know all about, all things considered, I think of myself as a huge Dramione fan but one that relatively to the majority of us in the fandom, doesn’t consume just as much.

I read fanfictions, but no that much - I read more books. (those sold on bookshop, you know the old paper concept).

I enjoy HP characters - but I somehow don’t branch out. (I tend to stick way too often with DHr and generally consider branching out when it’s a Draco/Hermione/Theo 🤷‍♀️)

I go crazy mad for certain fanfics too - but somehow I limit myself to rec those ff when asked, and generally leave only kudos.

So, if I’ve learned anything from @winewandsandwafflingpodcast I certainly need to step up my games.

First and foremost:

1. If you happen to read this post, go and click on the tag above, then find the podcast, put your headphone on and press play. Enjoy, darling.

I am now going through the very pleasurable job of catching up with the last few months worth of episodes - that somehow I missed to keep up lately, so typical of me, and I cannot express my gratitude to @frumpologist and her host @ladykenz347 enough for this podcast and their discussions. I am having such a great time listening to you fangirl-ing hard and simultaneously discuss on very deep level the analysis of fics and most importantly the fandom itself! You’re constantly touching important aspects of the world we live in - though only virtually, and I think your critical points of view, together with the voices of guests that you bring from the fandom, are a much needed review that we need to hear, explore and share together. So, really, thank you.

And it’s because of them and their Episode 8, that I finally branch out-branch out. With none other than:

‘The Secretary’ by @pacific-rimbaud

Summary:

Threatened with the loss of her trust fund allowance, wild child Pansy Parkinson takes her mother up on an offer she can't refuse: a job at the Ministry of Magic as personal secretary to tightly wound bureaucrat Percy Weasley.

The job is demanding, and so is her boss, in ways that Pansy never could have imagined.

When their mutual desires begin to spin out of control, how will Pansy convince her boss that sometimes, the only rules you need to follow are your own?

A loving tribute to the pure and criminally underappreciated magic that is the ParkWeasel ship, and the 2002 film Secretary.

Here I come:

This fic had me - all of me: attention, heart, fangirl wailing, all of it, from the very beginning. It shouldn’t really come as a surprise, since I absolutely adore PacificRimbaud’s writing style and stories. I am not quite too sure I can put Party Lines behind this fic, there is no need surely since one is a Dramione (surprise surprise) and the other one is a ParkWeasel, and why shall I even throw in there Major Arcana a Lucius Malfoy/Andromeda Black Tonks? This creator here has an extraordinary ability to make you instantly fall head to toe for rare pairs that you usually forgo, because - really, I know my linkings - and no, you don’t. The second you step into one of her story, the minute you begin to say ‘oh well, but that sounds nice,’ you’re so damn past the point where you can go back to your comfortable pairs, so much so that you might just want to change your introduction on Tumblr and just add the tag ‘whatever PacificRimbaud’s rare-pair present you with - I ship it’. I surely should, because now I’ve just locked eyes with a Draco/Scabior tag and I am trying to stay calm, because truly I should know my bloody likings, shouldn’t I?

I am one that adore, above all, Dom/Sub fictions without any worries to say this out loud, but I understand how this might not be the proverbial beloved cup of tea of one’s likings, so I should explain why this kinky fanfic won’t have you cringe in any possible way. Because she makes it sounds and feels so natural. Your read it and it makes sense. Particularly this fic, has the capacity of introducing a kink at the right moment, cleverly pacing it out throughout its 6 chapters. I liked personally how this was a fiction based on the discoveries of these sexual kinks, more than the narration of such things acted out exclusively. It has psychological description of it that just adds depth to the relationship - one I never even explored once in my life. And that now I’m digging for.

If asked, what’s the one thing that got me widening my eyes and going loudly ‘yessss, girl’, is Percy ending his working day on white paper, miniature crow, flying notes, neat and precise description of what Pansy should wear the next day. Down to her knickers. If you know, you know, if you don’t, read this fanfic right away.

Lastly, this writer here not only has created this (as many others) beautiful piece of fanfic, which I absolutely worship, but has also created an artwork for it! And I find it extremely lovely! I love her style (one that reminds me, and I mean this the outmost respect for both artists, the Fernando Botero’s style) and I feel so much for her that’s she’s written her fic and drawn for it, too. Damn, girl, you rule. (Also, I had the big, massive, apocalyptic magnitude size honour of having inspired her once to write a one off for a piece of art I made and which I am shamelessly going to tag along, because why not, the artwork might be average, but the story’s chef’s kiss! ‘Off the Ground’) Darling, I should have come and praised you high and loud a long time ago - it’s just not my modus operandi of participating in the fandom. But here it is, although you also write some rare-pairs that don’t meet the same degree of visibility and notoriety, as long as it makes you happy participating in it, I’m here for it and extremely grateful for your sharing it with us.

[hwauas]

🕊️: "the temptation between us"

choi jongho | 최종호 - 1,953 words

you were laying in your bed, thinking about your day: once again, your day had been busy. it wasn't your first day as a staff member of ateez. in fact, you've been by their side almost since the beginning. and you were a member of the make-up staff.

being here since the beginning got you close to them. of course, they're close to all their staffs. but you built an another type of friendship with them. you were very close to them: you were often eating together in different restaurants, meeting them on your free time, and you even had them coming over few time, or went to their place, to play video games or board games with them.

     but you had to admit, you've got a special connexion with Jongho. even though he wasn't the type to be explicit with his feelings, he always had these words to show how much he cared about you: 'cover up, it's getting cold outside', 'text me when you're home so i'm sure you're safe', 'did you eat today? drink a glass of water every hour', 'if you can't sleep tonight, call me. i'll sing a lullaby'.

you first were confused about how caring he was. but you ended up spending a lot of time together, and so you thought it was only his way to tell you he liked you a lot as a friend.

     the problem is that you started to like him way more than you should. not as a friend anymore. all these intentions, all his words, how he was with you — caring, attentive, good listener, supportive — got you falling for him. and you first denied it: you couldn't fall in love with an artist. you couldn't fall in love with him. it was impossible, forbidden and dangerous. but it was so thrilling in an another hand. dating an idol, having to hide it all from the whole world, living each moment to the fullest because it doesn't happen often.

after weeks of denying your love for him, you realised it was foolish of you. you then started to cunningly act caring towards him.

buying iced Americano when you had the chance because it was his favourite drink, getting him his favourite pastry once a week, complimenting him when you do his make-up, giving him a bottle of water and a towel after a stage or after practice, and even sending him supportive texts before practice session.

and all your actions got you both getting closer and closer.

     tonight, you couldn't fall asleep. you were thinking about him again. about Jongho. and for no reason, you were missing him. your soul, your heart, your brain, each part of your body was missing him.

and as you were looking up to the ceiling, in your dark room, illuminated only by the moon, listening to the rain drops against your window, your screen phone turned on, illuminating a little more your room. it was a message. but who could it be at almost 1am in the morning? why would someone text you this late?

     you extended your arm to grab your phone. when you unlocked it, you immediately saw the text message: it was Jongho. and his text was pretty curious: « y/n, if you're not sleeping, please text me back. »

you frowned, not sure about what was behind his text. was he good? was he sad? did he discovered you were in love with him and was he mad at you?

with shaky hands, you answered him.

you heart was still beating fast because of all the things he said. you just couldn't believe Jongho confessed to you. all this was sudden, even though a part of you expected him to be in love with you too. and in the euphoria of the moment, you forgot about all the problems and the dangers. you were just too happy to think about this. Jongho, your beloved one, in love with you and here.

you got up from your bed, glancing outside to see the rain falling. you quickly went to your bathroom to take a towel, and rushed through the darkness of your apparemment to the front door. you opened it without any hesitation. Jongho was standing here, completely wet by the rain. water drops were falling from his hair. under an arm, he was holding a hamlet, letting you know he rode his motorcycle here.

"so, you do like me too?"

Jongho asked as if it was the main problem right now. you laughed at his question and this attitude of him.

"i do, Jongho."

you grabbed his hand softly and pulled him towards you. he entered your apartment and as you were closing the door again, he took off his shoes, placed his hamlet on a piece of furniture, and removed his perfecto. even the shirt under his jacket was wet, and against his skin.

"say it. say the words."

"or what?~"

you had this smirk on your lips, feeling comfortable enough to tease him now. meanwhile, you tried to dry his hair with the towel, but this is when he grabbed both your wrists to trap you between the wall and his body.

"you don't want to know."

his gaze looked serious. he was looking straight into your eyes. all you could see was love, teasing, and dominance.

your knees would have gone weak and you would have fall if he wasn't that close to you.

"i like you, Jongho."

you played along, behaving at his order. your eyes never left his, but his did. he looked down to your lips, and got a little bit closer.

"how many times did i wanted to kiss you when you were above me, doing my make up. and each time you were making-up my lips.. your gaze on my lips never failed to give me the butterflies in my stomach."

Jongho got so close you could feel his hot breathing on your lips. and it was a sweet torture, so sweet, that made your heart stop for a moment.

"and how many times did i wanted to kiss you when i was doing your make-up... being this close to your face, Jongho.. it was a torture. i couldn't do anything, but i was craving for this. for your lips. for you."

Jongho answered nothing, and kissed you. this kiss was soft. his plump lips were exactly like you expected them to be: soft, sweet because of the lips balm he always put on.

Jongho slowly let go of your wrists, and rested both his hands on your waist. and as soon as your hands were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

this kiss slowly grew more passionate. you both could feel how much you waited for this moment to come, how much you've been waiting to kiss each other. one of your hands made its to his hair. and his hands made their way down to your thighs to lift you up. you wrapped both your legs around his waist, letting him go to your bedroom.

you both broke this kiss when he placed you softly on your bed. he slid his hand through his hair to push it back, revealing his forehead. he looked extremely charismatic at this moment, with his wet shirt, his black hair back, and his eyes down to you. you couldn't help and looked away, your cheeks getting hotter and redder.

"you should take a warm shower and change your clothes. you'll catch a cold, Jjong."

"i knew it! you're weak when i do this.~"

Jongho took the towel you brought when you went to open the door, and dry his hair with it.

"of course i am.. i think you've got a lot of charisma.."

you tried to escape to go and take clothes he left over for days like this, when he stays over.

you went to the bathroom, and placed his clothes somewhere he could reach them easily once he was done showering. you also turned on the water for it to be ready.

when you felt his presence behind you, you turned over to face him. he was already shirtless, making you blush even more. even though you enjoyed this view a lot, you looked away.

"thank you, honey. but if you don't leave now, i'll be obliged to ask you if you wanna come in the shower with me."

his voice was clearly indicating you he was teasing you, and it was in a playful way. yet, this got your cheeks redder.

"n-no! i mean.. i wouldn't complain, but..!"

you were cut off by Jongho's laugh. you couldn't believe it: he was totally different from the boy you knew. maybe because telling you how he truly felt about you took off an important weight? and it just made him more comfortable around you.

"then why are you still here?"

he laughed as you softly hit his arm, whining, and went out of the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

he felt truly happy at this moment, and so you were: happy, content, complete.

you went to your bedroom, and sat on your bed, your legs crossed.

you were listening to the rain drops on the window, the sound of the water coming from the bathroom, lost in your thoughts. you were spacing out. but all you could think about was Jongho. all the things that happened, how you felt and what you both did.

as you were thinking about this, you realised you both gave each other signs about your shared feelings, but none of you actually took the leads before. and if Jongho hadn't done this today, how much time this would have last?

and now this happened, what did it mean? were you now his girlfriend/boyfriend? will hell the boys what happened? or will he hide this from everybody, including the boys? of course, you would be okay with any decision he would take, but the unknown just got your fears reappearing.

you were so buried in your thoughts you didn't sensed Jongho, laying down next to you. you knew he was here only when he started to rub your arm softly.

"what are you thinking about, y/n?"

you looked at him, almost surprised to see he finished quickly. you layed down in his arms, against his chest.

"i was thinking about us."

you wrapped an arm around his waist as you snuggled up into him.

"about us? why were you thinking about us? aren't you mine now?"

he held you close to him. his voice was sweet, and he tried to act cute, as if he wanted to influence your answer.

"i just wasn't sure what did that mean.~"

"why weren't you sleeping? not that i'd have preferred you to be asleep, but i told you to call me if you couldn't sleep. why didn't you call me?"

"i was thinking about you.. but i thought you were sleeping, and you wouldn't pick up the phone."

with that, Jongho held you tighter against his chest. he started to rub your hair softly, and his voice quickly filled the quite and dark room. softer than ever, he sang to you this lullaby he sang you multiple times in the past already. your eyelids felt heavier as the time flew by. as if you needed Jongho, his scent, his warmth and his voice by your side this night, you fell asleep quickly.

you smiled during your sleep as you felt Jongho's lips on your forehead, and his sweet voice whispering a 'good night, precious'.

just as you, he quickly fell asleep.

you both needed each other to sleep. you just didn't know it.

[heymacy]

author interview

i was tagged by my beloved @iansfreckles 🧡🧡🧡

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

5, about to be 6! ✨

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

233,543 holy WOW

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Teenage Dirtbag

Teenage Dirtbag: The One Shots

pulling on your threads

The Ginger Intruder

Help Is Other People

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i don’t usually and i feel fucking awful about it. i don’t really leave comments either, but i’m getting better about that 🥺 i’m way better about answering asks, but even that’s hard sometimes because i don’t wanna put spoilers on people’s dashboards unintentionally. idk, i have a lot of anxiety surrounding that sort of stuff but i’m trying to do better! i’m challenging myself to respond to every single comment on chapter 1 of TLO 😤

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

oh boy. um, none of them? when i finish HIOP (i haven’t abandoned it, i’ve just been hella busy with TLO and life and stuff) it’ll have a similar sort of bittersweet ending as in TGP canon, but i don’t particularly like truly angsty endings. i honestly don’t know if i’ll ever write one. angst in a fic? yes, absolutely, tons of it, please. but i need a happy ending. 

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

teenage dirtbag 🥺🥰 those lil fuckers really did that, didn’t they?

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

“Help Is Other People” is sort of a shameless/TGP crossover bc of characters & concepts, but it’s not exactly a “crossover” in the traditional sense? it’s probably the only one i’ll ever write bc it just happened to line up perfectly with the character journeys, it was never my intention to write a crossover because i personally don’t care for them lmao

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

shockingly enough, no. not in the comments or anything. i’ve had a few rude anons but their messages were written in such a way i knew it was a them-issue and i just happened to say/write something that they didn’t particularly like in that moment and became a target of their anger. if i ever did get a true hate comment, y’all would never know because i would never publish it & give them that sort of satisfaction, lmao. i mean, i might, if it was funny and i needed to make a point 👀

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, sparingly. well, until TLO comes along 🤭 then “sparingly” will be replaced with “gratuitously” for a while, oops 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ and all kinds, eventually. my only published stuff right now is awkward boyfriends content and TLO is…very different lmao

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, and holy shit that happens?? oh that’s fucked up

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but oh my god i’d cry if that happened

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no! but i think it would be fun to try when i’m not so busy with other projects lmao (don’t worry, i’ll be stickin’ around this little sphere of the internet for quite some time)

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

all time? temperance brennan and seeley booth from “bones”. then ian and mickey, then my headcanon versions of alice cullen and bella swan. yes i’ve written fic for all of them. yes i enjoy my characters with a dash of ✨trauma✨ and what about it? 😌

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

none, i will finish every WIP i ever start goddammit 😤😤😤 (this is more for me than anyone else)

15. What are your writing strengths?

i have a hard time gauging my own strengths, so here’s what people have told me in messages/comments before: thoughtful world-building, immersive and/or cinematic writing style, creative storylines. and i’ll agree with them bc i’m trying to be better about doing that 💛

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

much like in real life, i talk too much. my writing is often long-winded and rambling and it’s definitely something i’m working on. i also change a lot of shit last minute so maintaining consistency with small details is difficult for me sometimes, and i lose a lot of writing time to double-and-triple-checking every little stupid thing 😭

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i think it’s a really interesting artistic choice to write a fic in one language and have pieces of dialogue in another language within the story - if i came across that in a fic, i’d be hitting google translate immediately because i’d be so curious - it could be interesting to hide a lil easter egg in a story that way 👀

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

twilight FUCK OFF

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

i have literally no idea, i hadn’t written fic for 6 years before i started writing TD and i only started again because i was so invested in the characters!

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

teenage dirtbag 😍 my child, my love, my heart and soul, you’re everything to me 💛

i’m tagging: @arrowflier @gardenerian @sweetcresta & @xgoldendays 🥰

[alkaysani-archived]

The Old Guard Fanfic Master List

*updated* 15 Oct 2020

MAIN SERIES

AS OUR LOVE SHAPES OUR UNIVERSE  (Nicky x Joe - Princess Diaries AU)

to love is to sacrifice, to sacrifice is to love 

“Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Charlotte says, and she’s sighing dreamily again and Yusuf definitely has that effect on people. “That young man gets my vote,” Joseph says from behind him. “He goes by Joe sometimes, so he’s definitely of good stock,” he says, and Nicky snorts. “A brilliant one, amazing artist, charismatic. He’s dedicated himself as the right-hand and advisor to his queen mother, and has fully supported his younger sister taking the throne instead of him. He’s friends with Nicolo,” he says, and Nicky blinks, shrugging a little, and his heart starts to go wild in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to understand. “We spent two years of secondary together,” he whispers, glancing at Mia. “Uh…just before they passed, he had to move back home, and I…” he trails off, sighing. --- or the Princess Diaries II AU where Prince Nicolo will do anything for Genovia. And if that means introducing his cousin Princess Mia to Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani to be her future king, then his heart just has to deal with it. He just wished that it didn’t hurt so much.

i will hold your heart together in mine 

“You love me now, right?” “Forever more, my darling,” Joe chokes out, and it takes on a whole new meaning that makes his own ache. “Then my heart will heal,” Nicolo says, and his voice is firm, and fierce, under the exhaustion. “The symptoms will fade, in time. They will,” he adds, his voice muffled against his shoulder. He pulls away and looks up at Joe with wide, glassy eyes. “The universe won’t be so cruel to me to take me away now, when I am finally happy, right?” he says, and Joe burst into tears then, shaking his head, grabbing Nicolo’s face and kissing him, deeply. No. No. He won’t think of it. He won’t think of losing Nicolo. Not again. Not like this. *** or where Prince Yusuf learns the physical extents of Nicolo’s heartbreak, months after they were meant to be fine. But regardless of how much it ails him, his beloved Nicolo continues to have faith that he will be alright. So he must brave through his fears and his worries, as they grow, and build a life and a family, together. Even if it breaks their hearts again. And again. And again.

black cats and lopsided hearts (Joe x Nicky) - 30 Oct 2020

“Permission to keep killing your fiancé with cuteness due to Halloween costumes, please?” Mia asks, and she’s giving Nicolo those eyes again, and this time, Nicolo bites his lip, glancing at Joe. “It might be fun, beloved. It’ll only be for a night,” he reasons, and Nicolo sighs then, nodding his head. “For you, heart.” *** or The Old Guard Princess Diaries AU – Halloween Special where Mia convinces Nicolo and Yusuf to let her dress up one and a half-year old twins Elio and Ayla for this very American holiday.

ONE-SHOTS & STAND-ALONES

JOE x NICKY

not that i need reminding 

“You look in love.” Joe blinks, looking up at the voice. There’s a woman, a little younger than Nile, or maybe just her age, sitting beside him on the bench now. She’s smiling at him, and he gives her what he hopes is an equal one, before nodding softly, gently tapping his pencil on his sketchbook. He knows the answer, of course he does. Yes. He is in love. Truly, madly, deeply, or however they say it. He knows all of this already. But he’s willing to play. “And how does that look?” --- or joe gets a vibe check from the universe.

to know those among us 

“Mommy, angel! Angel, mommy!” Nicky blinks, putting down the produce he had in his hand. He zeros in on the voice and a little boy staring up at him, jaw dropped and staring, his eyes wide and curious. Then he looks up to find a woman, blushing red, looking absolutely mortified. Even with her darker tone, the flush is clear, making her glow. She looks ready to run, so Nicky just gives her a smile, and then crouches in front of the child, before looking around, humming curiously. “Where, little one?” he asks, putting his hands over his eyes as he continues his search. “Where is the angel?” he asks, and the little boy giggles. It’s a beautiful sound amongst the low bustle of the early farmer’s market. --- or nicky gets mistaken for an angel by a child, so he tells them about real ones

in parts, i fall, i love

Joe needs to finish this portfolio if he wants something to propose to the showcase. And he does. He really does. But someone just sat at his table because the coffee shop is so busy, and their profile is gorgeous, and yep, he’s definitely trashed the outline again because this man is definitely going to be a part of it. “Is there something on my face?” he hears, and Joe pauses. Shit. Joe breathes out so heavily that his glasses fog up, and he looks up to find the man giving him a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’re staring,” the man states and honestly, yeah, Joe is. “I’m not.” Idiot. --- or joe is an artist, and he falls in love. and nicky is along for the ride.

with your hands, your whispers 

Come on love, that’s it.” “I can’t, Yusuf, please.” He’s gasping, breathless. His Yusuf always leaves him so breathless. It’s too much. And of course, Yusuf knows that it’s too much. He knows exactly what Nicky needs, and what makes him overflow, and it seems like his adoring heart wants him to spill over, again and again in every sense of the word. *** or a take on what nicolo and yusuf were doing before booker and andy got to the hotel in marrakesh

let’s right, these wrongs, together (see accompanying edit here)

If he concentrates hard enough, he can still smell Yusuf on the scarf, and it brings immediate tears to his eyes. Because it’s only been nearly a year, and he’s yearned for the man for longer, way before they got together. And even with all the odds, with all the numbers combined, Nicky doesn’t believe that there’ll be enough time that can pass to heal the pain that’s clawing on his chest at that moment. That has been since Yusuf said it was over.   Nile’s legs move from his lap, and suddenly there are arms around him, pulling him close and Nicky closes his eyes, pressing his face on Nile’s neck. “You’re allowed to hurt as long as you have to, Nicky,” Nile says to him, and it’s so, so kind. “You can tell me as much or as little as you can. I didn’t mean to push.” Nicky sniffles. “I still love him,” he croaks out, like it needed to be heard, like his desperation is a call out for his heart. His heart that let him go, that told him that it’s over. *** or the one where Nicky is housemates with Nile after Yusuf breaks up with him. And when he finally opens up about it, Nicky realizes that his current predicament was brought on by misunderstandings and good intentions with ill results. But it’s too late. It’s been nearly a year; it doesn’t matter now. Right? Not if your housemate is Nile Freeman.

hand-shaped bruise (see accompanying edit here)

Prince Nicolò spends most of his days alone. He lives with no one, after all, ever since his parents died. Ever since he was killed by Sr. Merrick and Lady Kozak, his screams ringing out throughout the night until his final breath, only to show up the next day at the farmer’s market. *** or my halloween take on our beloved characters.

BOOKER x COPLEY

when time dictates love 

"So not ugly,” Sebastien says, and Aidan looks at Mr. Copley, who just shrugs, smiling. “He is insufferable. Does he know this?” he says, and the man just smiles, both of them ignoring how Sebastien says ‘hey!’. “He does,” Mr. Copley whispers, and he says, and Sebastien’s fingers intertwine with his atop his knee, and Aidan looks away. “But you like him anyway,” he says instead. Mr. Copley chuckles, and he leans to press a kiss on Sebastien’s forehead, who’s no longer laughing. “Yes, but I like him anyway.” --- or a home-care worker witnesses Booker and Copley’s last year together, as time catches up on them

MULTIPLE RELATIONSHIPS

there is no timeline when it comes to this (Booker x Copley; Joe x Nicky - also featuring Joe & Booker bffs and Nicky really giving a damn about Booker)

“I’m happy for you, Yusuf,” Booker says, because he means it despite the ache, and Joe smiles, nodding, and he’s smiling in a way that makes his heart hurt even more. “We love you, Booker,” Joe says because he’s just that person, before driving off as Booker makes his way up to his apartment, steps feeling like lead. He makes the point to check the mail, and he’s not even sure why. He’s never checked mail before, Joe usually did. Booker pauses then, looking at the different ads he pulled out of the box after twisting the key. So many changes already. When he finally gets to his unit, he finds someone standing at the door. They turn when he pauses, and greets him with a smile. “Hello Booker,” James Copley says, giving him a two-finger salute. “You haven’t aged a day.” *** or where Booker’s best friend Yusuf moves out to be with his Nicolo, and he makes the choice to live alone for the first time in years. Booker tells himself he’ll be fine, tells everyone that he’ll be fine, even though the weight in his chest tells him otherwise. but he really has no choice. this is his life now. then James Copley comes home.

OTHER SHIPS & FRIENDSHIPS & NO SHIPS

little things, for the heart (Nile and Joe)

“Are you…baking bread?” Joe looks up at her then, and Nile snorts, walking over to the counter and reaching up to tug on the man’s stray curls, dark tight ringlets dusted with white flour. “Maybe,” Joe says, in a sing-song tone. *** or Nile takes a lesson she learned from her mother and applies it to her new life.

OTHER SERIES

THE NILE FREEMAN COLLECTION (Written for Nile Freeman Week 2020)

nile + love or where Nile meets another queen 

nile + sadness or where Nile keeps it real with Booker

nile + alone time or where Nile gets of ice cream and thinks of dying

nile + comfort or where Nile makes Joe feel better, the best way she knows how

MY LOVE, WE STILL HAVE MUCH TO LEARN (Post-Canon Take)

do not let me awake alone (Nicky x Joe)

After Booker’s betrayal, Joe is angry and Nicky suffers through the fallout. And for the the first time in a long time, Nicky understands what it's like to be alone in his grief.And something inside him breaks.

my love for him kills any anger (Nicky x Joe; Joe & Andy)

A month later, Andy finds out that Nicky is talking to Booker.But it doesn’t mean that Joe forgives him. Far from it. They've been through so much for him to just let it go.

a blessing from above (Nile & Nicky; Nile & Joe; Nicky x Joe) 

Nile gets used to a few things, three months into her new life. But the one thing that wracks her brain the most is how they deal with loss and suffering.Thankfully, she has a lifetime to figure it out. Because they’re family, and she wants to help them. At least, start them on the right path. They are grown people, after all. Because her Mama raised her right.

[ducktracy]

182. little red walking hood (1937)

release date: november 6th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: elvia allman (little red walking hood, granny), tedd pierce (wolf), mel blanc (elmer)

buckle up! this is a “lengthy prologue” piece!

perhaps one of tex avery’s most formative cartoons in his career. little red walking hood serves as the first fairy tale spoof of his, a genre that would pop up time and time again in his warner bros. cartoons and even over at MGM (perhaps most famously the red hot riding hood series). not only that, but it’s the first cartoon to debut a purely comic villain—villains in previous pictures had comedic touches, of course, but the wolf (voiced by story man tedd pierce, whose vocals are quite underrated—you may recognize him as tom dover from the dover boys at pimento university) is purely made out to be a rather pathetic, unscrupulous adversary from the very beginning.

even more interesting is that the bulk of the cartoon’s backgrounds are done entirely in colored pencils, by avery background artist johnny johnson, who moved with him to MGM when tex left WB in 1941. the handling on the backgrounds are nothing short of stellar! they truly accentuate the “fairy tale” look and feel of the piece.

maybe the most notable, however, is the debut of tex’s third character of 1937: elmer fudd. i covered this in my review of egghead rides again, and you can read more into the differences between egghead (another 1937 avery character) and elmer here, but the bulbous nosed, derby hat donning little man traipsing around with his guitar case is our favorite befuddled hunter. many have labeled this guy as egghead, and understandably so—they’re eerily similar in more ways than one, and “prototype elmer fudd” is much more monotonous than “egghead”, but this is indeed our favorite little hunter! humble beginnings for sure.

the film burlesques the age-old story of little red riding hood, complete with katherine hepburn little red riding hoods, gin guzzling grannies, nonthreatening wolves, fourth wall breaks, and mysterious whistling men.

already, the cartoon marks an intriguing open, with the title card playing into the action itself: the title card serves as the title of a book, opening to divulge the fractured fairy-tale before us. a cliche, sure, and it was one even by 1937, but with tex avery at the helm, audiences can be reassured that it’s all tongue in cheek. “the mean old wolf was lurking in a nearby pool hall” asserts as such.

indeed, the mean old wolf was lurking in a nearby pool hall--or, rather, cheating. he pulls the lever of a pinball machine, lifting up the machine and tilting it so as to guide the ball in the right hole. the animation of the wolf is spaced and timed nicely, with just enough urgency to convey his commitment to cheating. sticking his tongue out in concentration is a nice plus as well. the drawings themselves aren’t the most pleasing, consisting primarily of mathematically proportioned circles and spheres, but such is life. 

close up on the pinball itself circling around the jackpot hole, teetering away to the “OUT” hole at the last second. a minute in, and we already see that this villain is far removed from the mustache twirling, cape-hugging villains that dominated earlier cartoons. instead, we know that this wolf is a loser. carl stalling’s constipated rendition of “old king cole” adds a nice level of sardonic commentary to the wolf’s authority (or lack thereof).

little red riding hood strolling outside the pool hall easily distracts the wolf from his oncoming tantrum. like red hot riding hood 6 years later, the wolf here is instantly charmed, catcalling and preparing to pounce. off-putting as this may seem at first glance, considering little red riding hood is, well, a child, the kicker is that here, she serves as an imitation of katherine hepburn, in both mannerisms and dialect. so, rather than dealing with a naive, innocent girl on her way to grandma’s house, we’ve instead got a hollywood star with her nose in the air, haughtily avoiding the wolf’s advances. (of course, catcalling grown women isn’t any better, but just as a note to dispel any confusion.)

the wolf drives alongside snooty little red in his pompous jaundice-stricken limo, his advances getting nowhere. time to pull out the big guns:

his license plate, reading 0-7734, flips upside down to spell “hello”, with the taillight opening and closing to simulate a wink. clever indeed! it’s some interesting food for thought to imagine how much more exaggerated in speed and tone this gag would have been had this cartoon been made at mgm, though  i suppose red hot riding hood answers that question.

ignored once more, the wolf opts to halt the car and hassle red himself. “hello, pretty girl! going my way, babe?”

irv spence’s animation is the most appealing all throughout the picture, and his scenes of red here are no exception. the underrated elvia allman provides red’s katherine hepburn impression--tex LOVED his hepburn impressions, and they would bubble up in his cartoons time and time again. the gag itself would have been much more riotous 83 years ago than it is now, but even then, the idea of little red riding hood speaking with such a sophisticated and haughty tone is enough to be funny. 

the contrast between the wolf’s sneering vocals and red’s lengthy speech couldn’t be better. red instantly puts the wolf in his place: “rea-lly, in this modern age of flaming youth, the girl has to put up with such embarrassing situations. rea-lly, we do, don’t we, girls? two thirds of you girls out there have gone through just what i’m going through now. you know how it is, don’t you, girls?” amen to that, sister! (bob clampett would play off of this in his swan song, the big snooze, as an elmer fudd in drag asks the girls in the audience how they deal with such harassment.) spence’s animation is visually appealing in design and also just plain funny.

despite red’s blatant dismissal of his advances, the wolf continues to persue her, tipping his hat as he approaches a stoplight. the stoplight opts to give him a good dose of karma as the light turns from green to red, the “STOP” flag popping out and giving the wolf a nice whack in the face.

however, the wolf has more important matters than glaring at a pesky stoplight—offscreen whistling catches his ears.

irv spence animates the stupendous, colossal, magnificent debut of elmer fudd as he struts across the street, blatantly interrupting the flow of the picture. his slow, carefree movements, the wolf’s visual contempt, and the exclusion of background music altogether accentuate elmer’s interruption. purposeful innocuousness and tastefully so!

back to the wolf at the stoplight, the “GO” sign providing one more whack in the face for good measure. wolf speeds off to hassle his victim even more.

as we’ve seen before, the song portion of merrie melodies has largely been dropped around this time, with little blurbs of songs serving as loose substitutes. here, said substitute is “gee, but you’re swell,” sung in a talk-songy drawl by tedd pierce as he relentlessly struggles to charm red. pierce’s vocals are hilarious, especially contrasted with the closeup of red blatantly ignoring his egotistical remarks. she gives him the cold shoulder, icicles logically forming to accentuate the metaphor. a standard gag, but it juxtaposes so well against the wolf’s inane dribble in the background that it’s hard to roll your eyes too strongly at it.

so caught up in inflating his own ego, the wolf fails to notice the approaching mailbox on the sidewalk, which delivers a hearty reality check as he konks his head against it. red urges him to leave her alone, bidding him goodbye with a haughty “scram, romeo, scram!”

our beloved hero, the whistling, intrusive elmer fudd conveniently pops out of the mailbox, toting a sign pointing directly to grandma’s house. the malice from before at fudd’s presence is gone, replaced by gratitude from the wolf. he peels off down the alley, his limo snaking around every curve. both this and the random appearance of elmer are precursors to tex avery staple gags, especially his time at MGM. amazing how formative a single cartoon can be!

at the beginning, i said that “the bulk of” the cartoon’s backgrounds are done in colored pencil. the pan of backgrounds while the wolf is driving to grandma’s house, whizzing past a hitchhiker elmer in the process, are done in paint. the backgrounds are still just as gorgeous! yet the change does serve as a little food for thought.

like always in a tex avery cartoon, his comedic timing is succint: wolf finally pulls up to grandma’s house, elmer nonchalantly chilling on the back tire--despite the wolf’s purposeful disregard for him on the street, making a point to gun the car past him. the matter of factness of the gag is solid. the cartoon’s main priority is breaking the fourth wall rather than telling a story, yet in this case, that’s a good thing. it’s done well and with awareness.

mr. wolf approaches the doorstep of grandma’s abode, knocking on the door many more times than necessary with a hilariously inflated level of sophistication. he breaks his smooth, cool façade to guffaw a radio catchphrase (this time from the al pearce show): “i hope ol’ grandma’s home, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope...” this catchphrase would be found in more short than one, bubbling up in a number of bob clampett porky cartoons as well.

an elderly “who’s there?” answers the wolf’s knocks from behind the door. the wolf puts on his best falsetto, cooing “it’s me! little red riding habit!”

we get a glimpse of granny from behind the door, who opens the little door window to see her guest. realizing that she’s met face to face with the wolf, who jabs his mug through the window, granny is quick to slam the door shut, bursting out into an impromptu rendition of “river, stay ‘way from the door” (sung as “wolf, stay ‘way from my door”.) the random song intervention clues us in that granny is in on the fourth wall-breaking as well--the delivery of the gag is quite similar to the mama parrot from i wanna be a sailor bursting into a rendition of “old black joe”.

irv spence takes over as the wolf struggles to pry the door open. suddenly, he freezes in his tracks at the sound of the telltale, offscreen whistling--elmer has arrived. the befuddled stare from the wolf as he watches elmer nonchalantly strut into granny’s house, opening the door without any hint of struggle, is priceless, as is his face-gripping agony. irv spence is tex’s best animator for a reason!

as a last resort, the wolf body slams himself into the door. little red riding hood has now turned into a tale of the three little pigs. he overestimates his own strength, and ends up darting inside, yet he stumbles backwards from the impact and trips backwards throughout the entire layout of the house. the gag is reminiscent of a similar gag from i only have eyes for you, an early 1937 avery entry--another elvia allman voiced elderly woman chases a hapless victim through the house, both of them gliding along a vertical pan set up exactly like this one. this is funny already here, but imagine the speed and lengths this gag would have been inflated to had tex completed this cartoon at MGM! 

granny is on the offense. the wolf barrels through the kitchen, where she’s standing on guard with the kitchen door. she opens the door, allows the wolf to barrel on out, and locks it shut. granny: 1, wolf: 0. 

cue a tired gag that’s been around since the bosko days (and beyond): wolf rams into a tree, shrinking up into his bowler hat. bowler hat runs around aimlessly with big ol’ shoes sticking out until he finally manages to free himself. the animation of the wolf being freed from the bowler hat IS rather nice--the accordion style wrinkles and folds serve as a precursor to some wild animation later on. it reminds me particularly of rod scribner’s animation in bob clampett’s cartoons.  

on the topic of gags old and new, the wolf engages in a gag that would be reused in a number of cartoons, including avery’s thugs with dirty mugs just two years later. the wolf grabs the doorknob, physically pulling it back and letting it shoot up against the door. the window panes thusly light up in a flurry of changing, rapid light squares: four yellow diagonal squares align, and the wolf is granted entrance into the house, triumphant fanfare and all. seems the wolf doesn’t need to cheat to win at pinball (doorknob-ball?) after all! if you look closely, you’ll see that the double exposures still linger as the wolf darts past the door and into the house.

cue the great fight: wolf v. granny. wolf aimlessly chases granny through the kitchen, both of them climbing on the furniture, granny whooping and hollering all the way. the phone rings, delaying their chase--granny hops on the chair to answer the phone, taunting the wolf: “ah-ah,” she chides, displaying her crossed fingers of immunity, “king’s x!” the deliberate time-out and show-stopping is great. this cartoon is filled to the brim with interruptions and halts, yet they don’t at all feel overused or banal. tex was a master of his craft.

granny takes the call while the wolf glowers on impatiently. more fourth-wall breaking as granny begs the audience for forgiveness: “will you people pardon me just a minute? let me see now, one dozen eggs... it’s the grocer, folks...” elvia allman’s vocals are excellent, conveying that comedic awkwardness with a great balance of authenticity and cheekiness. the head tilt indicating the phone as she talks to the audience is another plus.

tedd pierce’s vocals aren’t to be overlooked, either. his “AW, C’MON, GRANDMA!!!” is the perfect topper as granny rambles on the phone. she ends her call by sneering “and a case of gin!” to the grocer before hanging up and telling the audience the chase is back on (”heeeere we go again!”)

granny seeks refuge in the closet, the wolf greeted by elmer again as he opens the door. instead of fighting it, the wolf just heaves a dubious shrug towards the audience. irv spence animation once again--he draws the wolf’s eyes in a comparatively distinct manner. the irises are much smaller than the work of the other animators.

the wolf darts inside the closet, where he finds a conveniently placed nightgown hanging near the door. he looks under the skirt, prompting a disembodied hand to smack him in the face for such uncouth behavior. now confused, the wolf opts to peer into one of the sleeves, where granny’s hand pops out to squeeze and honk his nose daffy duck style.

their game of cat and mouse (or is it wolf and granny?) is interrupted by knocking on the front door, and the telltale, floaty voice of “it is i, red riding hood, grandmother!”

cue panic mode. the wolf hurriedly asks granny to give him “the stuff”, and she offers her bonnet, glasses, and shawl with a sense of camaraderie. this is entirely a performance, not a retelling of a story. these characters are hyper-aware actors who are not what they portray. 

tex’s speed, from the wolf finding granny to her offering her clothes to him diving in granny’s bed, flows incredibly well. everything happens all at once! there’s hardly any time to breathe. the urgency of the situation is very much alive and real, but also playfully so. the whole cartoon feels like a game of hide and seek in a way.

thus, we’re treated to the old routine that everyone knows, with red inquiring about the wolf’s “large optics” and “large schnozzola”. even she understands the overplayed nature of her performance, halting midsentence to quip at the audience “rather childish and a bit silly, don’t you think?” while the scene does drag, it’s purposeful and successful at doing so. there’s a noticeable contrast between the pacing of this scene and the scenes prior.

yet, in no-time, we’re back to the adrenaline rush, with the wolf lunging out of the bed and chasing a shrieking red. tedd pierce’s vocal talents are not to go undermined--he’s genuinely fun to listen to. interestingly, he didn’t write this cartoon--cal howard did. who, i may add, dabbled in a little bit of voice acting himself, voicing gabby goat in get rich quick porky!

irv spence takes over for the remainder of the cartoon, and his animation is gorgeous all the way. the wolf corners red, who swings haymakers at him, stopping only to gloat towards the audience “silly way to make a living, don’t you think?” such a stark contrast at the drop of a hat! predictable, perhaps, but who can be mad at it? this is a very likable cartoon. while all of the warner bros. directors of this period are quite talented, it most certainly belongs under tex avery’s name--think of how different in demeanor and timing this would be as a frank tashlin cartoon (who DID rival tex in terms of speed), a friz freleng cartoon, and a bob clampett cartoon. with tex, it’s in good hands.

the brawl continues, only to be halted by another interruption. no, it’s not because of offscreen whistling! signaling for red to stop, the wolf casts a steely glower at the figure of two silhouettes moving across the screen, sneering snide remarks--late moviegoers who interrupt the flow of the cartoon. provided my memory serves me correctly, this is the first WB cartoon to integrate rotoscoping. it was a technique invented by max flesicher in 1915, where animators would trace over live action footage, frame by frame.

tex would use this countless times, both at WB and MGM. his efforts pay off even now, watching this on a laptop screen, but just IMAGINE the impact this would have in a packed, dark theater, where even the CARTOON CHARACTERS stop to ridicule the audience! imagine just how revolutionary that was the first time this was showed! what an absolute riot! tex was a genius. the characters truly feel alive and with us. this was a very real problem, too, and a timeless one--someone scooching past you in the all too narrow row, bumping your knees, spilling their popcorn on you in the process... the characters on screen connect with the audience, bonding over a universal occurrence. imagine just how much of an uproar this would cause back then in theaters. genius!

after the wolf is done guilt-tripping his latecomers, the fight continues for a few seconds more, halted once again by the fudd himself, strolling across the screen. finally, the wolf reaches his breaking point: “hey BUD! hey, just a minute, bud! now, who the HECK are you, anyway?”

mr. fudd guffaws his first words in a stereotypical dopey drawl: “who, me?” note how his eyes open for a change! he opens his guitar case, where a mallet is carefully stored inside. not a beat is wasted as he knocks the wolf over the head with the mallet, elmer remarking in his hayseed voice “huh huh huh huh, i’m the HERO in this picture!”

iris out...

or so we think.

what a game changing piece of animation. this isn’t the tex avery cartoon to beat all cartoons by any means, but it packs a lot of weight. it’s extremely formative in tex’s career. numerous gags--such as the rotoscoped silhouettes, the stretching limo hugging the curves on the street, the constant wall-breaking and interruptions--and even story structures (think of all of the countless fairy tale parodies that came after this!) would be used not just by tex, but by his friends and colleagues, whether at WB or elsewhere. 

in the grand scheme of things, the plot is barebones. the wolf goes to grandma’s house. the wolf chases little red riding hood. that’s really all it is. yet it’s the details what give it substance, and the purposeful delivery of such. this isn’t a faithful retelling of a beloved story, that’s out the window. these characters are hyper-aware characters essentially massacring an old fairy tale. yet its the conviction of such that makes it so strong. it’s not really a “haha, look, i broke the fourth wall, i’m instantly funny! show’s over” deal--it’s just riding that momentum and expanding the picture on it. “oh, the story keeps getting interrupted. okay. let’s continue to interrupt it and make the characters increasingly aware of such, with the reasons for interruption growing more and more bizarre.”

while this isn’t nearly as bizarre as tex’s later pieces at MGM, it’s a great start. WB wasn’t completely free of its disney influence. pieces like these further remove the disney influence for sure, but 1937 is still very early on. this is such a game-changer in comparison to previous cartoons. 

tex’s dry-spell is over, and cartoons are on the upswing from here. things are going to get real funny and real loony. i definitely urge you to go watch this cartoon--it’s not the most revolutionary piece of animation on the planet, but it’s a wonderfully funny cartoon that still holds up today, and it serves as an interesting comparison point for future cartoons.

you can go watch it on HBO max, or you can check it out right here! enjoy!

[bananaofswifts]

By : Callie Ahlgrim and Courteney Larocca

Taylor Swift released her eighth studio album, "Folklore," on Friday.

Swift surprised fans by announcing its release just one day in advance — and less than one year after the release of her acclaimed seventh album "Lover."

"Most of the things I had planned this summer didn't end up happening, but there is something I had planned that DID happen," she wrote on social media. "And that thing is my 8th studio album, folklore. Surprise!"

She described "Folklore," stylized in all lowercase, as "an entire brand new album of songs I've poured all of my whims, dreams, fears, and musings into."

Much of the 16-song tracklist — 17 on the deluxe edition — was cowritten and produced by The National's Aaron Dessner. Smaller pieces were cowritten by Bon Iver, Jack Antonoff, and someone named William Bowery. Antonoff also produced five songs.

Insider's music team (reporter Callie Ahlgrim and celebrity and music editor Courteney Larocca) listened to the new album on our own, jotting down our initial thoughts track by track.

Almost immediately, we were forced to reckon with the fact that "Folklore" might be Swift's best album yet — potentially even better than "Red," which previously seemed like it couldn't be topped. We were stunned with the mature, poetic, stunningly understated collection of new songs.

Here is what we thought of each song on "Folklore" upon first listen. (Skip to the end to see the only songs worth listening to and the album's final score.)

"The 1" is the best album opener Swift has had in years.

Ahlgrim: "I'm doing good, I'm on some new s---" is a wild way to begin a new Taylor Swift album. This is going to be different.

This is easily the best intro song she's released in years. "The 1" far surpasses "I Forgot That You Existed" on "Lover," "...Ready for It?" on "Reputation," and "Welcome to New York" on "1989" in terms of sheer quality.

It's also an engaging scene-setter; I find myself gently rocking back and forth, eyes closed, smiling without realizing. It's only the first song and so far, I am totally grasping the woodsy aesthetic of this album. I'm already ready for more.

Larocca: I would argue that there hasn't been a strong album opener on one of Swift's albums since "State of Grace" on "Red" in 2012. "The 1" breaks that curse.

I was vibing from that very first piano note, but when Swift comes in and warmly delivers the first line of the album — "I'm doing good, I'm on some new s---" — it became evident this project wouldn't be anything like the rest of her discography.

As far as "The 1" goes as a standalone song, it's incredibly solid. Swift has a breezy attention to rhythm as she paints a tale of a the-one-who-got-away romance. I truly, truly love it. This might end up being an all-time favorite track.

"Cardigan" is beautifully influenced by Lana Del Rey.

Ahlgrim: I heard "Cardigan" first because I watched the music video before I listened to the album.

Right off the bat, I was struck by the Lana Del Rey melody in the chorus; I jotted down "folksy 'Blue Jeans.'"

Swift has actually cited Del Rey as an inspiration in the past, so this makes sense — and that particular shade of nostalgic, haunting glamour really works for Swift's voice, so I'm overall very impressed with this direction. I am more than amenable to a "Red" meets "Norman F---ing Rockwell!" album experience. On my second time around listening, sans music video, "Cardigan" already feels richer coming after "The 1."

This time, I'm struck by small lyrical details like "Sequined smile, black lipstick," a clear callback to her past eras, and "Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy," an effective way to evoke young love and innocence lost.

I also think the song's central refrain, "When you are young they assume you know nothing," is clean and sharp and — especially given Swift's public struggles with sexism and years-old contracts — extremely poignant.

Larocca: I had the thought that Swift listens to Lana Del Rey after hearing "Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince" on last year's "Lover," but now I know for sure that Del Rey is an influence on Swift.

While "Cardigan" isn't what I thought this album would be like sonically, I'm overjoyed at how clearly singer-songwriter this album already is. I've been waiting years for Swift to make a lyrical marvel set to acoustic, warm, folksy instrumentals and it's here.

(And while I expected something different sonically, I am not mad at all by the backing instrumental choices here.)

"The Last Great American Dynasty" proves Swift is a natural storyteller.

Ahlgrim: Personally, I love Storyteller Taylor, so this is quite literally music to my ears.

There are so many delicious details here to unpack. The first verse, with its subtle sexist whisperings about Rebekah Harkness ("How did a middle-class divorcée do it?" and "It must have been her fault his heart gave out"), is a truly savvy way to set up for the song's eventual reveal.

Rebekah spent her time partying with friends, funding the ballet, playing card games with Salvador Dalí, somehow "ruining everything" — and her Holiday House was "free of women with madness" until Swift herself moved in.

That twist in the bridge is poetic genius. When the final chorus adjusts to the present day, underscoring the parallels between Rebekah and Swift, I'm forcefully reminded of an iconic bridge when Romeo finally proposed and changed everything — but Swift has evolved past daydreams of pure white dresses and fathers giving permission.

Larocca: I'm immediately taken back to 2012's "Starlight" when "The Last Great American Dynasty" starts. Thankfully, this song ends up being a lot better than "Starlight," which always felt more like a filler track on "Red" to me.

I love a lot here: the casual use of "b----," the acute attention to detail ("She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green"), and every version of this line: "There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen."

I had a marvelous time listening to this song.

"Exile," featuring Bon Iver, is one of Swift's most successful duets to date.

Ahlgrim: Swift and Bon Iver, aka Justin Vernon, are two of the best songwriters alive today, so this song was destined to be breathtaking.

Swift has historically had difficulty allowing her voice and vision to coexist with a featured artist; her collaborations often leave me feeling like she should've just delivered the whole song herself.

But Swift and Vernon were able to weave their lyrics together so gracefully, I was left feeling grateful for his presence. His rich, rustic tone and those iconic hummed harmonies lends the regretful song an added coat of sincerity.

The production here is generally fine, but the layered instrumentals in the ending really bring the song together. I love a dramatic exit.

Larocca: When I see a "featuring Bon Iver" on a track, I instantly assume Vernon is going to come in with his high falsetto. So it was almost jarring that the song starts with Vernon sounding like a lumberjack dad who hasn't left the woods in a decade.

That didn't end up being a detriment, though. Swift sounds delicate on her verse, and their vocals contrast nicely later on the track.

This one also brings to mind her collab "The Last Time" with Snow Patrol's Gary Lightbody. The line "I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending" is also reminiscent of "If This Was a Movie."

I'm obsessed with the clear influences Swift's previous discography had on these tracks, which have also so far felt completely unique to her catalog.

"My Tears Ricochet" is an extraordinary display of Swift's songwriting powers.

Ahlgrim: First of all, "My Tears Ricochet" is an incredible song title. Let's take a moment to appreciate that.

In fact, pretty much every line of this song is arresting.

Much of it feels both familiar and rare, like you know exactly what Swift is singing about, but hadn't thought to put it in those words before — which is, in my opinion, the mark of any good piece of writing but especially a breakup song. You can relate to the emotion, if not the particular details. You can hear the pain. It almost plays like a funeral march.

What a gift it is, what an exhilarating experience, to feel like you're listening to a poem being recited in real-time.

Larocca: Any true Swiftie knows that track five is reserved for the most vulnerable moment on the record, so I went into "My Tears Ricochet" ready to be sad.

I am endlessly impressed with how Swift managed to bake the word "ricochet" into this song so effectively. She also ditched her traditional song structure for this one, and instead built the track from peak to peak, utilizing clever lyrics along the way to tell an epic, devastating story, almost obviously calling back to the most beloved track five of "All Too Well."

I'm calling it now — this one is going to age like a fine wine. As all of Swift's best breakup ballads do.

"Mirrorball" is several strokes of genius.

Ahlgrim: This song gives me intense Clairo vibes, and I mean that as a very high compliment.

It's so fun and refreshing to hear Swift slip into different musical styles, and this shimmery take on alternative-bedroom-pop highlights her soft vocals and nuanced songwriting supremely well.

Also, my Leo sensibilities are fully under attack by this bridge: "I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try / I'm still on that trapeze / I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me." Oof! Just tag me next time.

Larocca: This one is so pretty! Swift's vocals sound better than ever as she spins on her highest heels across a glittery daydream.

"I'm a mirrorball / I'll show you every version of yourself tonight" might be the thesis statement of this entire album. So far, "Folklore" feels both diaristic and vague; detailed and completely anonymous.

Fans will be debating for years whether this album is about Swift's own life, or if it's simply really great storytelling pulled directly from her own mind. In the end, it doesn't really matter.

Because as all of Swift's best songs do, these songs will attach themselves to listeners in completely new ways, showing them elements and stories from their own lives.

"Seven" is pure whimsical magic.

Ahlgrim: This is playing make-believe in the garden when you're too young to feel self-conscious; it's poetic and nostalgic and full of awe in such an unpretentious way.

I wouldn't change one thing about this song. Swift's whispery high register sounds divine, and at this point in the tracklist, her rhythmic delivery in the chorus hits like a shot of espresso.

Right now, I'm wondering if it's possible for Swift to maintain this intrigue and momentum for another nine songs. There hasn't been a misstep to speak of, and I remain wholly beguiled. Can it last?

Larocca: The beginning of "Seven" sounds like Swift listened to Marina's "Orange Trees" on repeat before showing up to her songwriting session. Fortunately, "Orange Trees" is the only song I like on Marina's "Love + Fear" so I will gladly accept this inspiration.

Swift continues to impress with both her vocals and her sense of rhythm on "Seven." I also personally love space imagery so the line "Love you to the moon and to Saturn" is a standout line.

"August" will go down as one of the best songs in Swift's extensive repertoire.

Ahlgrim: I'm immediately catching hints of Phoebe Bridgers and girl in red in Swift's delivery. And I simply adore the idea that Swift has spent the last few months sitting at home, daydreaming about summertime humidity and listening to music by queer indie-pop girls. 

In an album full of songwriting expertise, this song has some of Swift's best lines yet: "August sipped away like a bottle of wine / 'Cause you were never mine" actually hurts me.

In my notes, there simply sits this valuable insight (yes, in all-caps): "WANTING WAS ENOUGH. FOR ME IT WAS ENOUGH TO LIVE FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL." This song has my favorite bridge on the album so far.

In terms of production, "August" is exquisite. It's lush and layered without feeling overwhelming at any point. It builds to the perfect level then recedes, like a wave. 

Also worth mentioning: It can now be considered a historical fact that any time Swift mentions a car or driving in one of her songs, it's a perfect song.

Larocca: While listening to "August," I texted Callie and said, "I can't wait to finish the album so I can relisten to 'August.'" It's an instant favorite. 

This is also the first track on the album that seems directly inspired by our current state. Not because she's expressing fear or singing about being bored at home, but because she so easily slips into a reflection of a relationship that ended years ago with a newfound wave of wistful nostalgia. 

When quarantine started, it seemed like a million lifestyle articles came out explaining why everyone suddenly felt compelled to text their exes and why we're so invested in looking back instead of forward right now. 

"August" validates those feelings with zero judgment, letting its listener know that yes, it's totally normal for you to be overanalyzing that quasi-relationship you were in back in college that never made it past graduation. Am I projecting? Maybe, but that's debatably what Swift's music is best utilized for.

I'm also going to be thinking about this song's bridge and outro for the rest of my life.

The National's influence can be felt on the stunning "This Is Me Trying."

Ahlgrim: "This Is Me Trying" quickly strikes a more sinister tone than its predecessors — still nostalgic and wistful, but carrying an edge, like a threatening secret.

Ironically, this one was co-written and co-produced by Jack Antonoff, not Aaron Dessner, though I can really hear The National's influence here. I'm getting strong wafts of songs like "Pink Rabbits" and "Dark Side of the Gym."

Based on Swift's own words, we can speculate that "This Is Me Trying" is a fictional tale, built around the image of "a 17-year-old standing on a porch, learning to apologize." And, as previously stated, I'm a big fan of Storyteller Taylor, so I'm into it.

The song's darker tone mingles really well with Swift's imagery; when you're a teenager, and you make a mistake, it can feel like the end of the world.

Larocca: "This Is Me Trying" is precisely what I imagined this album sounding like when I found out Swift collaborated with the National's Aaron Dessner and Bon Iver.

But I'm glad she was strategic about her use of echo and also finally paid attention to the tracklisting from a sonic standpoint. This haunting soundscape is reminiscent of 2014's "This Love" and comes in right when you need it after the yearning daydream of "August."  

I'd also like it to be on the record that the line "I got wasted like all my potential" ruined me and this song is a win for that lyric alone.

"Illicit Affairs" is a glowing example of what sets Swift apart from her peers as a songwriter.

Ahlgrim: The expert songwriting on "Illicit Affairs" reminds me of the as-yet unseated queen in Swift's discography: "All Too Well."

Swift is a master of wielding specific details like weapons: "What started in beautiful rooms / Ends with meetings in parking lots," she sings. "Leave the perfume on the shelf / That you picked out just for him." These are the sorts of images that set Swift apart, and they're especially strong when she punctuates their delivery with a little growl in her voice.

This song has real power. I have chills.

That power is magnified in the third verse, similar to how "All Too Well" builds to a crescendo: "Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me."

Certainly, "Illicit Affairs" is more restrained than Swift's iconic arena rock ballad, but goddamn that last verse hits hard.

Larocca: The way that she says "him" in the second verse shook me out of my skin in the very best way. And "Don't call me 'kid,' don't call me 'baby' / Look at this idiotic fool that you made me" will go down as one of her best breakup lines of all time.  

It's been a minute since Swift delivered a painstakingly beautiful breakup ballad, and the fact that this album is littered with them is, simply, a gift.  

"Illicit Affairs" has growing power and will likely become one of those tracks that fans form a strong emotional attachment to over time.

"Invisible String" is Taylor Swift at her most Taylor Swift.

Ahlgrim: "Invisible String" is a feast of Easter eggs and callbacks.

"Teal was the color of your shirt" reminds me of the line about Joe Alwyn's blue eyes on "Delicate," and her reference to a dive bar is similarly familiar. "Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs" recalls the push-and-pull on "Exile."

"Bad was the blood of the song in the cab" is undoubtedly a reference to Swift's 2015 single "Bad Blood," while "One single thread of gold / Tied me to you" feels like a nod to Swift's description of love's "golden" hue on the "Lover" album closer "Daylight."

This song is sprightly and sparkly and certainly nice to listen to, but its real strength lies in these details.

Swift is weaving many different stories on this album, many connected by a sort of "Invisible String," tying different pieces of her life and your life and other lives together. It ends up feeling like a growing plant with far-reaching roots, or a sentient treasure map.

Larocca: I'd be lying if I said there weren't multiple points throughout this album where I worried that Swift and her boyfriend Joe Alwyn had broken up. 

Thankfully, "Invisible String" is a rosy, wide-eyed ode to love. The plucky guitar paired with Swift's soft vocals is a sound I want to live in, which is fitting since this track feels like coming home. 

Every small detail, from the nod to Alwyn's time spent working at a frozen yogurt shop in his youth, to the color imagery that paints every inflection of Swift's adoration (especially the single thread of gold) come together to lay the holy ground Swift's relationship walks on. 

Also, the image of Swift mailing Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner gifts for their expectant first child brings about an unbridled sense of joy.

"Mad Woman" is yet another highlight.

Ahlgrim: Every time I think I've heard the peak of this album's songwriting potential, Swift manages to surprise me. 

Case in point: "Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? / Does she smile? / Or does she mouth, 'F--- you forever?'" Whoa.

And another, for good measure: "It's obvious that wanting me dead / Has really brought you two together." I texted Courteney, "Did she really just say that??"

This song is sublime on its own, but the way it ties back into the perception of female freedom and "madness" on "The Last Great American Dynasty" makes it even better. "Mad Woman" is definitely a personal favorite so far on this album, if not in Swift's entire catalog.

Larocca: "Mad Woman" will forever hold the honor of being the first song in which Swift says "f---" and for that, we should all be thankful. 

I was also so wrapped up in the storytelling of this album, that it took a minute for this to even register that this is likely about the Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta / Kanye West and Kim Kardashian West ordeals of Swift's past. These callouts used to be so obvious, that I greatly appreciate the subtlety and restraint here. 

It almost feels like these feuds were a lifetime ago, but this track does an excellent job at showcasing how anger and pain can leave an indelible mark on you. Swift went mad years ago, and that's just an accepted part of her narrative now. 

But for the first time, her rage sounds like freedom.

"Epiphany" doesn't stand out.

Ahlgrim: There are some really interesting vocal moments on "Epiphany," but so far, this is the only song I haven't felt captivated by. It's a bit snoozy, and a bit too long.

This song clearly references war, the loss of a loved one, and the coronavirus pandemic, which makes it lyrically intriguing at best — but distressing at worst. I don't mind letting the overall effect waft over me, but this won't be a song I revisit outside the context of the album.

Larocca: "Epiphany" is the only track on "Folklore" that didn't immediately grab me. It's essentially a war drama in song format, so some people might like it, but I truly couldn't care less about war movies or war songs! So it's not my favorite, but it makes for pretty background music. 

"Epiphany" does have another benefit though: Now, whenever some random dude erroneously claims Swift "only writes songs about her exes," fans have a clear song in her discography that they can point to and be like, "That's not true. This one's about war." 

That's not to say Swift needed that — anyone who has been paying attention understands she's quite possibly the best songwriter of her generation.  

This just happens to be further proof of that fact.

"Betty" is a charming callback to Swift's country roots.

Ahlgrim: "Betty" is like the best, sauciest song from Swift's 2006 debut country album that no one got to hear. It has sonic and lyrical similarities to hits like "Our Song" and "Tim McGraw," plus some name-dropping stuff like 2008's "Hey Stephen," plus a little harmonica thrown in for good measure! I love that for us.

"Betty" also appears to complete a three-song story, recalling details from "Cardigan" and "August" to close the loop on Betty and James, a couple in high school with some infidelity issues.

Looking back, it feels like "Cardigan" was told from Betty's perspective, while "August" was told from the perspective of a sort of "other woman" character. Now, we get James' side of the story. This is high art, folks! This is peak Storytelling Taylor!

"Betty" is also, like, very gay? I know it's easy to assume that James is a male character, but Swift herself was named after James Taylor, so she could be referring to herself. The song also references someone named Inez; James and Inez are the names of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's daughters.

Plus, in retrospect, the idea of whispering "Are you sure? Never have I ever before" during a summer fling seems pretty gay to me.

I'm not saying the story of Betty and James would be better if it was written about sapphic lovers, but I'm not not saying that.

Larocca: This one is gay, and if you try to tell me otherwise, I will simply ignore you. 

But Courteney, it's from the perspective of a guy named James. James and the other character, Inez, share the same names as Reynolds and Lively's kids (will leave it up to you to decide if that means their third daughter's name is Betty). James is their daughter. Get out of here with your antiquated ideas about which names connotate which genders. 

To me, the James named in this song is a woman and a lesbian and this song is for the gays. I will not be saying anything else or accepting any feedback on this opinion, thank you.

"Peace" is honest and raw.

Ahlgrim: This song's intro sounds like LCD Soundsystem had a baby with "The Archer." The gentle guitar riff is also lovely.

With Dessner's echoey production, Swift's voice sounds like a warm little fire in a cave — fitting, since she sings in the chorus, "I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm."

OK damn, I'm getting really emotional. This songwriting is beautiful and haunting. "Peace" perfectly captures the ambient dread of feeling your partner slip away, of wondering whether love can be enough. 

Larocca: If you're a "Call It What You Want" stan, you're going to love its mature older sister "Peace." 

I will hereby forever be thinking about the parallels between "But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm" with "He built a fire just to keep me warm" and between "Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother" with "Trust him like a brother."

Also, "Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" has the same emotional impact as when Swift changes the lyric in "The Archer" to "I see right through me" and that's meant as the highest form of compliment. 

Swift's vocals are so crisp, that guitar riff is so stunning, and these lyrics are so gut-wrenchingly vulnerable. A perfect song, through and through.

"Hoax" is unlike any other album closer in Swift's catalog.

Ahlgrim: I don't know if Swift is going through a traumatic breakup, but if she isn't, the woman is one convincing creative writer.

The National makes some of my favorite music to cry to, so when I heard Aaron Dessner had co-written and produced much of this album, I knew I was in for some glossy cheeks. Until now, I think I've felt too captivated by Swift's artistry to really let myself get there.

But finally, "Hoax" is making me cry.

This is heart-wrenching stuff for anyone, but for a fan and student of Swift's work, this is like reading a friend's diary entry.

"Don't want no other shade of blue, but you" must be a reference to "Delicate," in which Swift sings: "Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you / Oh damn, never seen that color blue." Later, she croons, "You know I left a part of me back in New York," perhaps regretting the move to London that she detailed throughout "Lover." 

"You knew it still hurts underneath my scars / From when they pulled me apart," recalling the public shaming she endured and demons she exorcised on "Reputation." "But what you did was just as dark." Like I said before: Whoa.

Personally, I love having a good cry set to moody music, so I appreciate Swift's soul-bearing. "Hoax" is one gut-punch of an album closer.

Larocca: Swift has a habit of ending her albums on an uplifting, hopeful note and I always eat it up. But if "Folklore" hadn't made it clear by now that it should be consumed differently than any of her previous works, "Hoax" brings that message home.  

Instead of reveling in all the ways that love has made her stronger, happier, or more whole, "Hoax" deconstructs everything Swift has learned about love and leaves a bleaker picture about how maybe even the best of relationships hurt. 

But at its most tragic, this love still isn't something Swift will ever let go of: "Don't want no other shade of blue but you / No other sadness in the world would do."  

Finishing a Taylor Swift album has never been so devastating.

Final Grade: 9.7/10

[dustedmagazine]

Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers