#i have recorded a 1-hour loop of this song

[reddishorange]

(not me keeping anything about the patch untouched for days BUT--)

WHY IS THIS MAIN MENU MUSIC SO GOOD?!?!?! i am floored, pun intended. r:1999 players can sleep well knowing this game is safe from lame music yes yes

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #59] Betting Against Yeonjun

warnings: there's a section towards the start where I was really going thru it with my adoration for jk lmao bingo if you spot it!!!, seokjin, byeol at her best!!, jungkook also at his best!!!!, mmm I luv our starluvrs <3, conversations re: the first night they met waaaa, okay phew where to start: smut, jungkook's phone gallery is a hotbed of sin (recording), semi-public (club booths), bratty b, dominant koo, a lil degradation, (he says something that would piss me off (b is a better woman than I!! (but she gets her own back!!))), oral (m), lots of lovely words, a little titty worship <3, b on top (yeehaw), creampie, cum eating, oral (f), jimin + nabi!!!!!

a/n: this was the final chapter on wattpad before bd got taken down :( it's very bittersweet. also makes me suuuuuper aware of how few updates we've had since (1.... we have had 1 update (wattpad really knocked the wind from my sails, and if you've been keeping up with me outside of bd, you'll know how crazy busy I've been (the plus side is that I'm so nearly freeee to write to my hearts content for a couple of weeks! <3)))

wc: 10.5K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

While Jeongguk has always looked good behind the bar of Dionysus, you can't help but think he looks so much better in the middle of a tight-knit crowd, with an arm looped around your waist and a drink in his hand.

Under the cosmic lights of Dionysus, there's a glisten to his lips—alcohol yet to be licked away—and the sheen of sweat on his skin. Hair dark and dishevelled, his fringe tickles at his brows. You don't push it out of his face, 'cause it'll just fall back into position as soon as he moves to the beat of the music.

With a smile on his face, Jeongguk turns to his friends. Chants the lyrics to some song that soundtracked the summers of their youth. Is rowdy and careless in how he jumps around, but not once does he ever loosen his grip on you.

You're all in your finest—the boys in suits, and girls in cocktail dresses. While Nabi is in a deep navy satin number, Danbi has gone for black. Seoyeon opted for an early night, her and Yoongi heading home when the rest of you made your way to the bar.

In the dress picked out for you by Jeongguk all those weeks ago, you're far too overdressed for a bar like this—but you're also under the influence of far too much alcohol.

You know this is one of those golden moments; the nights you won't remember but will have stories to tell about it in years to come. Folklore. Whispers of Aurelian affairs weaved into your subconscious.

History has been made tonight. Not the kind that'll be read about in textbooks, but the kind that grandkids will be told a dozen times over—in a home that's covered in tiny specks of shimmer, while the scent of samgyeopsal waltzes from the kitchen to the courtyard.

So, no, Jeongguk doesn't loosen his grip, and he doesn't think he ever will.

You ignore just how many drinks have been knocked against you, and have also long forgotten the annoyance of sticky liquor on your feet. It's nothing a shower won't fix. Knowing the man beside you as intimately as you do, you're almost positive it's where you'll end up in a few hours, anyway.

Thoughts of you and him doing as you so often do have you wishing you were home already. Tonight is for celebrating, though—and oh, how lovely it is to have an excuse to celebrate Jeon Jeongguk.

Venus herself would've had a hard time crafting him, you think. Carved from marble and yet soft as the silky words he likes to wrap you up in, he's unlike anything of this earth.

For all of his thoughts about you, and the cosmos, and how he's certain 'Milky Way' is written where a location should be on your birth certificate, you've had just as many deliberations.

He says he was born in Busan, but men like him don't just come to be as a result of random genetics. He's forged of gold. Perfection in the form of a mere mortal man.

But then he's shouting something to Jimin over the sound of the music, and he stutters a little. Repeats himself with a goofy little grin, unphased by his innate imperfections, and it only serves to make your heart swell.

Jeongguk isn't perfect. He's capable of making mistakes and saying the wrong things. He wears toe-separating socks more often than you care to acknowledge, and sometimes he can be a little stroppy for no reason.

The pout always eases, though, and he derives such joy from those stupid socks that you can't ever bring yourself to tell him how ridiculous they are.

Perfection isn't measured in traits. It's measured in perception.

And you've never perceived a human more perfect for you than Jeon Jeongguk.

Anyone who looks your way would agree—or maybe they'd just see the way you're looking at him, all dewy-eyed and fawn-like, and know that there must be a little magic between you both.

When he turns his attention back to you and realises just how much adoration is glittering your eyes, he does the only thing he can do: tightens the arm he has around your waist and press the sweetest of kisses into your lips.

"Get a room!"

"Disgusting!"

"PDA! Gross!"

The noise that erupts for your friends is nothing short of embarrassing, even if it is obscured by the thudding base of the club speakers.

None of them really mean it. All have smiles on their faces. Are laughing.

Even if they weren't, they'd far rather you and Jeongguk were insufferably sweet, instead of still pretending like you aren't crazy about one another. You ignore them all anyway. Pout when he pulls away from the kiss. Get him back on your lips just as quickly as he left them.

Jeongguk's lips curve into a smile as he sinks his lips into yours and revels in the way it feels.

In the middle of a bar he could call home, surrounded by people he adores, Jeongguk's got you .

Has caught a shooting star, and is gloating just because he can.

"Fuck, I love you," he mumbles into your lips barely loud enough for you to hear, yet your arms wrap around his neck because you know exactly what he said. Kiss him back with a smile just as insufferable as his.

"Yeah?" You giggle.

Your friends have stopped caring—or at least, they've stopped teasing you. Are just letting you be. Suits Jeongguk fine. Just gives him the green light to tighten his arm around your back and lift you ever so slightly.

"You know I do."

Jeongguk loves without condition. Doesn't need to hear you say it back, not when he knows how you feel.

And yet you indulge him regardless.

"I love you, too," you tell him, and then can't help but giggle at how stupid it all feels. He puts you back on your feet. Press a kiss to your forehead, and then urges you back into the group. Shaking your head, you pull back. "Just gonna get another drink."

"I'll come with."

"Stay," you insist, squeezing his hand as you pull his grip away from your hand. He should be with his friends, you think. Plus you'll order him a drink, too. Won't put it on his tab, 'cause you know damn well that bar tab his friends love so much will no doubt migrate to his restaurant. Still, you make sure to call back, "Will only be a minute, babe!"

You know it'll pacify him for a moment or so, and you also just wanna indulge in the simple pleasure of watching his lip ring do the thing. You'll never grow tired of it. Two birds, one pathetically pretty heart-shaped stone.

You lose yourself in the crowd. Know this place like the back of your hands. Doesn't take you long to find yourself by the bar with an incredibly sober Yeonjun raising his brows in your direction.

He saw you coming. Already has a few empty shot glasses lined up on the tray ready to make you starfuckers.

Rolling your eyes, you're about to say something that'd feel far wittier in your drunk mind than would be in reality when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

Instantly, you flinch away.

The hand isn't cold nor is it aggressive; it's just not Jeongguk's. You knew without hesitation. Eyes flicking over to the mirrored backsplash of the bar, you briefly catch Yeonjun's unimpressed gaze.

He doesn't know the man who's taken the spot beside you, but he knows the man is far closer than a stranger should be.

He's strapping. Incredibly good looking. Broad shoulders, hair slicked back. Is put together in a way that men in Dionysus rarely are.

"Water?" Yeonjun offers you, 'cause no matter how much he likes to wind Jeongguk up, he's grown into a good man. Has a lot to thank Jeongguk for. His care for drunk punters, and making sure they're okay, is one of those things.

Yeonjun also knows Jeongguk would pluck every single cerulean hair from his head if he were ever to let anything happen to a single hair on yours.

"Yeah," you nod, edging away from the man beside you.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The man closes the space you created.

"You were in your element tonight," he says, looking down towards you. "Could be making a name for yourself instead of doing some kid's hard work for him."

When your eyes flicker up at him, they're sharp. Pointed. Daggers where daisies once were. Edging away again, you create a distance that isn't so easily closed this time.

"And you could piss off, Seokjin."

"Oh," he hums with the kind of smirk that would have sent you reeling once upon time. Just makes your stomach churn, now. "Full name? Am I in trouble?"

"I'd have to actually give a shit about you for you to be in trouble," you tell him, and are kind of surprised by how little you feel. You're not even angry. You're bored. A little irritated. Mostly indifferent. "And quite frankly the way you've been behaving recently has just confirmed everything I already knew about you. If you could stop interfering with my life, I'd really appreciate it."

"Interfering?" He half snorts, taking a swig on his drink. "You're the one who invited practically my entire department to your little boyfriend's fundraiser."

"I invited their wallets," you correct him, before turning back to Yeonjun. "The usual, please. Four."

He doesn't need to clarify what you're after. He knows the drill. Gets cracking on the starfuckers.

"Icy," Seokjin continues to tease. There's an arrogance to him. Curiosity, too.

You're not the woman who used to cry in his shower and beg him to stay. Your hair is longer, and your wardrobe is less refined. The role you played to be favoured by him is long-forgotten about now.

Stars don't belong in boxes. They'll just burn out. He never got the luxury to see you shine as brightly as you could, and now that he is, he thinks he likes it.

"There's a reason why you kept coming back, or have you forgotten?" He says with a kind of sleaziness you never before attributed to him. When you come to think about it, you realise that maybe you should have. "Need reminding?"

"No. What I really need is for you to gain a little bit of that decorum you like to pretend you have, and then I need you to stop embarrassing yourself," you assure him as you pull your phone from the small clutch bag you've been carrying with you. Flicking open your message thread with Jeongguk, you manage to put together a very tipsy string of messages that tell him to come to the bar. "You're beating a dead horse."

"If that were true, you wouldn't be talking to me right now," he smirks. "And if anything, I'm the horse in this equation, given how much I know you like rid—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You snap, frankly taken aback by his vulgarity.

If there's one thing Seokjin always was when he was with you, it was respectful. Not to you, or your feelings, but to other people's perception of him. For him to be stooping to such a level just to get a rise out of you means one of two things: the insidious 'boys club' nature of his workplace has corrupted him, or that he thinks so little of you that he believes this is what'd make you fold.

"We ended well over a year ago, and you didn't even want to be in that relationship for just as long! Christ alive. You never had trouble getting laid when we were together. Find some other poor woman to bother—or better yet, just go home. Save everyone's sanity."

Seokjin shrugs. Casts his dark eyes down your glitter-speckled body. Smirks. "You know I always want what I can't have."

You're unattainable. Out of his reach. Belong to skies, when his feet are cemented into the sidewalk.

It's not why he's here, though.

You know him too intimately to understand how his brain works.

Kim Seokjin will never be the man he pretends to be. Will always be the lackey of some CEO. Will never quite own a penthouse, even though he'll probably land somewhere a few floors below. His full-potential will never be reached because he doesn't know how to apply himself in a way that isn't intended on bringing other people down.

He won't climb ladders; he'll just drag people beneath his feet to make himself feel taller. Goes through life as if he's wearing Cuban heels, and steps on the toes of anyone who threatens to achieve more than him.

When you were together, he didn't cheat for the forbidden romance of it all, or anything borne in innate human desires. He didn't do it because he particularly liked other women, or because you weren't satisfactory enough. Quite the opposite.

He cheated for the gratification of coming back to you. He'd hold your body with hands that had been covered in the evidence of someone else; tarnish you and leave himself squeaky clean. Was a power trip. An ego stroker.

It's what's fuelling him right now, you think. The way he knows your body and how his hands used to stroke up the curve of your waist. The eroticism of it all. Thoughts like that used to make you shudder. Now, they make you want to dry-heave.

He knows his hands have been replaced with Jeongguk's lips; that your skin is golden where it once was void of anything but markers of Seokjin.

You went to Jeongguk's apartment once after Seokjin had left those very markers on your throat. They were invisible, but you could feel them. His hands, his lips. How tender he'd been with your skin no matter how rough he had been with your heart.

Jeongguk had crafted you a nest out of every single pillow in his home that night. It was almost like he knew birds would play a pivotal role in the both of your lives. Was giving them— you —a safe place to hatch. To bloom. To shine.

Seokjin doesn't want you.

He just wants Jeongguk to be beneath him.

If that means also getting you beneath him in a more literal sense of the word, then so be it.

But as Jeongguk comes to stand in the space between you both, nodding towards Yeonjun with all the nonchalance he can afford, you know that nobody else will ever have you like he does.

Picking up one of the starfuckers, Jeongguk shoots it back. Picks up a second. Looks to you. Softly wraps his hand around your throat and strokes his thumb up towards your earlobe. Holds the shot to your lips. Waits for you to tip your head back ever so gently—and when you do, he slowly pours the liquor into your mouth for you.

Not once does he take his eyes off yours. Not even when you close them to swallow down the familiar sensation of what it feels like to be in love with him. Just naturally happens whenever you drink a starfucker. Always has done.

"Missed you," he tenderly says, as if it hasn't been a matter of minutes.

When he's holding you like this, his strong hand commanding the angle at which you can look at him, you're without any autonomy. You're his, his, his. The presence of a man you barely even remember being with fades into nothingness behind Jeongguk.

An incredibly love-drunk smile finds its way back to your lips. Jeongguk smiles, too, letting the hand holding your neck ease so that his arm can wrap over your shoulders, as yours does the same around his back. Hooked onto one another, physically as much as you are emotionally, there's a unified front to your partnership.

"These ours?" He asks, nodding towards the remaining starfuckers. You nod. Say nothing, 'cause you don't need to. Just squeeze his waist even tighter. Jeongguk glances up to Yeonjun. "Tab? Four more, and two lemonades."

"Right you are, boss," Yeonjun nods, and gets to work.

"Cheers," Jeongguk thanks him, then picks up one of the starfuckers. Turns ever so slightly, but not enough to loosen his grip on you. Smiles in Seokjin's direction. "Want one? They're good. Practically made her fall in love with me, though, so be careful. You might get a crush on me, too."

"Think I'd be fine," Seokjin scoffs back. "I don't tend to fall for charity cases that can only get girls who feel sorry for them."

"You'd be surprised by how much a starfucker could change your tastes," Jeongguk entertains him. "Take B for example. Used to date limp dick losers who couldn't get her off—"

"Gguk!"

"—One starfucker was all it took, and now it's a seven days a week occurrence. Ain't that a beautiful thing?"

Seokjin grates his jaw. Tries not to let it show. Fails.

"So you have to get her drunk to fuck her?" He sneers.

"Nah," Jeongguk laughs a little at such an absurd suggestion. "Just like I wouldn't need to be drunk to tell you to back off."

"Can she not talk for herself?"

He knows damn well you're able to speak for yourself — he just chooses to disregard everything you say.

"Can you not take a hint? You're not welcome," Jeongguk snaps, before swigging down the shot he had offered Seokjin. Is a little aggressive in how he tosses down the plastic shot glass. "Get fucked—by yourself, that is. My girlfriend isn't included in that suggestion."

"I think—"

"Seokjin," you finally sigh, voice laced with contempt. Shaking your head, you really don't know what more you can say to really drive it home. He never cared this much when you were together. "You're embarrassing yourself. Go home. Find a new bar. I don't care. Yes, I used your connections to get more money to the auction, and no, I'm not sorry. Use the money you saved from losing the bid to get a therapist, or a hooker, or anything that'll help you be a little less insufferable. Maybe an STD check, while you're at it."

He could make a crude remark about how he always wore condoms whenever he cheated.

You know this to be true, 'cause you know you tasted the latex on him once. Thinking about it doesn't hurt like it used to. Annoys you more than anything.

Instead, Seokjin concedes. Can feel the eyes of the bartender searing into him. Knows that you're right; he is embarrassing himself.

That was one thing he could never fault you for. You were always right. Each and every time you called him out on his bullshit, you were right to do so.

"You know where to find me whenever you're done fixing whatever's broken with him," Seokjin simply shrugs. Knows you have a complex. That you tried to 'fix' him, too.

"Fixed it already," Jeongguk says, 'cause he isn't letting Seokjin have the last word. "Seriously, man. You lost. Not because I won, but because you were never worthy of winning in the first place. Stay away or don't, but this is always what you're gonna be greeted with. Always."

Seokjin doesn't look at you. He stares Jeongguk out, instead. Smirks, as if he thinks Jeongguk is an idiot, but lets the ambiguity of any words he could speak linger in the air. Decides it will be a little more torment if he leaves you both wondering what he could have said instead.

He just doesn't realise that neither of you could care any less than you already do.

At this point, he's just like an annoying mosquito buzzing around. With any hope, he'll find another blood source he enjoys more and become an irritating presence for someone else instead.

"Christ," Jeongguk mutters, shaking his head when Seokjin finally retreats. Squeezes you tighter and presses a kiss to your cheek, before pulling the fresh drinks made by Yeonjun closer to your side of the bar. "He's fuckin' insufferable, B. The fuck did you ever see in him?"

Jeongguk pours the starfuckers into the lemonades, turning it into a makeshift version of a starlover. It'll do the job, and was easier to order than it would have been to explain the process to Yeonjun in the middle of a busy shift.

"Before we get into that—" you take the drink offered to you by Jeongguk, sipping a little down " —Seven days a week? Really?"

"Oh, c'mon," Jeongguk grins, as he begins to lead you both away from the bar. "You can't be annoyed with me! He was being a tool!"

The door that leads up to the private booths is closed today—none were booked out, and it saves the clean down time if that entire section stays off limits to punters.

Elevated above the dancefloor, the booths are in the balcony section that wraps around the room. People in the booths can see down to the dancefloor below, but you'd be hard pressed trying to look up into the booths from the dancefloor. They offer a little anonymity. Privacy.

It's why Jeongguk stuck Jiyeong and her friends up there on New Years Eve—purely so that he wouldn't have to deal with them.

Jeongguk isn't just any punter, though. He's the one who installed the door to make his life a little bit easier by keeping drunk stragglers out of the booths. Knows the code, 'cause it's just his birthday backwards.

And right now, he wants a little privacy with you.

"You didn't have to be one back!" You reprimand him as he punches in the code for the door, but you're smiling, too. It's not like you actually gave a shit. If anything, it was kind of hot watching him brag so arrogantly.

"I did," he assures you, quickly encouraging you through the door so as to not draw any attention to yourselves. Taps your ass just 'cause he can. Squeeze, again, just 'cause he can. "Didn't want the old man thinking I was a little virgin."

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him away as you begin to head up the stairs. He's right behind you. Is squeezing your ass again as soon as he can be. "No one is ever gonna look at you and think that."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeongguk flirts. "So when we first met, you thought I was some sort of sexed-up fuck boy, huh?"

"No," you innocently offer, stepping up into one of the booths, and sinking down into one of the plush sofas that run along the back wall. "But I did wish you hadn't been behind the bar so I could find out for myself."

Jeongguk puts his drink on the table in front of the booth sofas, then comes and plonks himself right down next to you. Is practically on your lap. Doesn't care. Is like a fully-grown dog who doesn't realise he's not a puppy anymore.

You just let him. Personal space is null and void.

"Oh? So you went home with Jimin 'cause I turned you on?" He nods to himself. Smirks. Looks incredibly pleased with himself. "Nice."

"Shut up," you laugh, a little scandalised that he's mentioning it so carelessly.

Jeongguk's got half a dozen starfuckers in his system, and does not care for tact. In fact, if he had it his way, he'd set the world to rights. Would make that ancient wish of yours come true, now that he isn't behind the bar.

You set about neatly arranging his hair as he steals your drink from your hand to take a sip.

"You were so pretty," he quietly says. Wraps his hand around your wrist to stop you from preening. Pulls your knuckles to his lips and presses a tender kiss against them. It comes naturally, being like this. "Still are. But that first night... Fuck. Spent my whole shift watching out for you. Was gutted when I got home and you were there."

It was so long ago now that it's almost hard to believe Jeongguk remembers it as clearly as he thinks he does.

"Looking for somewhere to charge your phone," he laughs softly, shaking his head, as he recounts the memories. "Just for you to end up forgetting it. What will we do with you, hey? Silly, pretty baby."

Your face scrunches up at his recollection of the details. Had you never gone home with Jimin, then perhaps you'd have never ended up here—but you kind of wish it had never happened. Wish that you'd stayed by the bar all night. That you'd have had the water Jeongguk gave you. That you'd have sobered up by the time he finished his shift, and asked if he wanted to walk you home.

The 'you' of present day is not the you that shot through the bar that night with reckless abandon for who got blinded by your shine. You wouldn't have stayed, if you'd have gone home with Jeongguk. Or wouldn't have asked him to stay. Would have fucked him and never spoken to him again.

Or maybe you wouldn't have. Who knows?

"Sorry it was all so... messy," you offer a little sheepishly.

Bad decisions were made by you both—but stars can only form when dust clouds collapse. You needed to break a little before you could become who you were meant to be.

Jeongguk shakes his head.

"Messy can be good," he promises, then adjusts you both. Pulls you across his lap. With a leg either side of his, you let your nose find its home next to his. Smile as his hands stroke up your back.

"Yeah?" You whisper against his lips.

"Mhmm," he mumbles, letting his lips sink into yours for a moment, before adding, "Got a canvas we made together that proves it."

The curve of your lips as you press into the kiss can be felt by him. Just gets him smiling, too. As his lip ring presses into your plump bottom lip, part of you wishes you were back in those damn busan photobooths. Want to see what it looks like. How you move together.

Slowly, he encourages your hips to languidly grind. Keeps the momentum slow, you both ignore the chaos of the club that echoes around you. He controls you with a hand on your waist, the other resting on your bare thigh.

The dress you're in—the one he chose—is everything he could ever want and more from an outfit on your body. It sparkles like the Han river under Banpo bridge during the evening light show, and clings to your body like droplets of water slowly sinking down an ice sculpture. Provides him with easy access, yet leaves his imagination free to go wild.

He knows your body well enough, now though. Knows the underwear you're wearing. Is impatient. Wants to push them to the side and get his hard cock buried in your tight walls.

Good things come to those who wait, though, and Jeongguk is more than willing to be a good boy for you.

Hidden in the darkness of the club, the thudding music is no match for the beat of your hearts. Lights splash you in colour every so often, but for the most part, you revel in your obscured entanglement.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and your hands tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss. You can feel how hard he is beneath you as you grind on his lap. It'd be easy, you think, to fuck him right now.

Jeongguk is right—good things do come to those who wait.

And he's been such a good boy.

You let your lips trail down to his throat. Latch on to his sweet spot just beneath his ear. Suck. Graze your teeth. Do the same to his earlobe, and feel his grip tighten. A moan vibrates in his throat.

Lips brushing against his ear, you whisper, "Phone."

Though your tone is soft, Jeongguk knows it's a command. Digs into his back pocket, keeping you firmly in place. The movement just has his thick bulge pressing even deeper against you, as his grip on your waist gets tighter.

It has you smiling; giddy with how glorious it is to have a man of such calibre so greedy for you.

It's not like it isn't reciprocal. Never before have you ever been so feral for a partner; so risky in your need to have them experiencing bliss because of you. Before Jeongguk, sex always served a purpose. Was never just sex for the sake of sex. There were deep-rooted issues and insecurities you were trying to fix.

But you're secure, now; in his grip, his hands, his heart. You don't have any ulterior motive for the things you do other than an innate need to make Jeongguk come undone. His buttons, his belts, his primal need to make you his; you'll undo them all.

Flicking open his camera, you stay in his lap as you reach across the sofa and rest the phone up against the wall that separates it from the next booth over. Tap on the little red record button. Though the lighting isn't entirely clear, enough bleeds in from the LED screens behind the DJ to clearly show the pair of you. Once his camera settings adjust to low light, you may as well have the main lights turned on.

Jeongguk raises a brow, tilting his head with sweet, puppy-like confusion.

"We're drunk," you tell him, as if either of you need any liquor to behave like animals. "Wanna make sure you remember this in the morning."

Jeongguk's hips push upwards as his hands on your waist keep you tight against his lap. "You think I ever forget fucking you?"

"Who said anything about fucking?" You tease with a smirk, biting down on your bottom lip.

He groans.

"If you blue ball me again, I'll die," he tells you. Flails a little. Leans back against the booth. Pouts. Wait for you to lean closer and deliver a pretty little kiss to make him feel better.

"We can't fuck here," you tell him with complete certainty, as if that's not exactly what you're hoping for. "Anyone could see us."

No one would be able to see you in this position, and you damn well know it, but it still feels incredibly exposed. You're a few metres from your friends and hundreds of other random club-goers. If you were to peep over the balcony railings, your hiding spot would be revealed.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. "Everyone knows we fuck. Bet you they've imagined it. And you know how pretty you are when you cum? Everyone deserves to see that at least once in their life, B."

"We're gonna end up at an orgy one day, aren't we?" You tease him for his sheer unrelenting need to show you off.

He shakes his head. "Fuck no. Ain't no way anyone else is ever gonna touch you."

"No?"

"No," he tells you, stroking his hand up your chest and tightening his grip around the base of your throat. "You only cum for me."

It's a statement just as much as it is a command.

The thoughts are in Jeongguk's head now, though. You, and those cosmic calamities you call your eyes, and how they'd stare him out as someone else fucked you. The feeling gets under his skin and pollutes his heart. Pumps sulphur into his veins. Turns his blood green.

"Say it," he grits, as his hands move down to cup your chest. "Tell me who you cum for."

Yanking down the material of the top of your dress, Jeongguk wastes no time. Repeats a similar action with the cups of your bra. Gets your chest exposed.

If either of you were to look at his phone screen, you'd find your silhouettes look like fuckin' sin—but all you can focus on is him.

His lips latch around one of your nipples, harshly sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand massages at the other, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. Head tipping back, you continue grinding against him. Don't give him an answer 'cause it feels too good to focus on anything else but the sensation of him.

You indulge in the sheer volume of the club speakers. Moan without reservation. Gasp as he pulls away and delivers a sharp spank to your tit, before latching onto your other nipple.

The way your hips grind even deeper against him is testament to how badly you want him; the wetness seeping through your underwear and onto his trousers.

He grazes his teeth against your nipple. Makes you shudder. Licks. Kisses. Sucks again, then pulls away with an oh-so-satisfying pop. Holding your chest with his hands, Jeongguk is stern as he repeats: "Tell me who you cum for."

You could do it. Could say him. Could do as he asks.

Thing is, you don't think he really wants that.

You think he wants to be mean.

And you know you want him to be mean.

With a small shrug, you widen your eyes. Feign innocence. Like butter wouldn't melt, you suppose, "Anyone who touches me right."

He scoffs.

There's a look in Jeongguk's eyes that promises you that he'll get you leant against that damn balcony while he fucks you just to prove a point—not only to you, but to any fucker who thinks they could ever make you feel the way he does.

"Word?" He grits.

"Chess," you say without hesitation.

It's the green light he needs, but still he tells you, "Gonna be mean."

As much as he enjoys playing the roles of a person he's not when he fucks you, he also never wants you to ever take it to heart. Loves you so purely that he'll always do what he can to keep you comfortable.

It's cute.

Also entirely irrelevant right now, 'cause you want him to be mean.

"You're gonna try ," you tease.

Jeongguk scoffs, again. Likes how bratty you can be. Smirks. Knocks his head to the side. Shakes it. Grips your tits a little harder, then spanks one of them and is pleased with how your body jolts.

A wanton moan escapes your lips. Eyes on his, you're Jeongguk's to devour.

"You think anyone else could get you like this, huh?" He grits, dropping a hand to your spread legs. Sinks his hand between his crotch and yours. Is greeted with evidence of your arousal. Strokes his fingers against you. Gathers some of your slick on his fingers, and is ever so pleased when your lips part for him without a word. Sinking his fingers into your wet, wanting mouth, Jeongguk smirks. "Needy little slut."

The vibration of your moan around his fingers just confirms everything Jeongguk already knows.

He laughs. Is arrogant. Cocksure. Obscenely hot. Your brows furrow as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, before he grips the base of your throat again.

"If you aren't gonna use that mouth to give me serious answers, you're gonna use it for something else instead, aren't you?"

Oh, you're eager . Don't need telling twice. Are off his lap and sinking between his legs without even so much as a guided instruction.

"That's it," he husks as you quickly undo his belt. His trousers, too. Tug them down his thighs. Get his Calvins on show, and his furiously hard cock tenting in them. Your lips press kisses against the fabric, tongue wetting his shaft through the cotton. "Stop fuckin' teasing, baby. Suck it."

If there's one thing you know about Jeongguk, it's that he gets whiny when he doesn't get his own way. On your knees, eyes flicking up to his lust-laced features, you're not gonna be a good girl for him just 'cause he wants you to be. You're gonna hold out. Gonna get him whiny. Gonna—

"You know how many girls down there want this cock, huh? How many waste their time at the bar vying for my attention?" Jeongguk arrogantly smirks. Watches the change in your expression. The hardening of your eyes. The power relinquishing from you to him. The sulphur that's transferred. The club lights paint you in green. He licks his lips. Says, "If I want my cock sucked, I can get it sucked. Give me a reason not to."

Back in the early days, you and Jeongguk had been through his message requests together. He'd downplayed it, but you know it's true. Girls practically drool on the Dionysus bar for him.

If he wanted to, he could.

But he wants you.

Only ever wants you.

You're feeling challenged, though. Are petty. Shrug, "You know how many people hit on me by that very bar?"

He does. Has seen it himself. And has also seen how quickly you dismiss it. Never feels threatened.

Your hands work in tandem, one of them pushing up the bottom of his shirt to reveal his toned abs, the other tugging down on his boxers, revealing his cock.

There's something celestial about having Jeongguk like this. Hard and weak at the exact same time. The tip of his cock has the sheen of precum spilling from his slit, and you don't think you've ever seen him this hard. He's needy. Pathetic. Gorgeous.

Your tongue licks a stripe up his shaft, and Jeongguk's eyes close. His hand finds a home in your hair as his gaze lands on you again.

"I could do this for them," you assure him. Though the music is loud, Jeongguk reads your lips. Twitches as your tongue flicks against his slit. Lips pressing a kiss to his tip, you jerk him a little just to remind him of who is in the position of power right now. "Could fuck anyone I want."

Jeongguk smiles at this. Finds it funny. Cute, even.

"You could," he acknowledges. Tightens his grip on your hair. Gets you back in position, your lips wrapping around his cock as he begins to encourage a momentum. "But I'm still the only one who'll make you cum, aren't I? Could slut yourself out, but it's still me you'll be thinking about. Me you'll be wishing you were with. Me who you'll crawl back to 'cause no one else satisfies you."

With every sentence, he fucks his cock deeper into your mouth. Is practically hitting the back of your throat. Getting your eyes all watery—and he knows your pussy is even wetter.

He lets you do the hard work, but makes sure he pushes your head to the right rhythm. Keeps your movements shallow, focused on his tip, now. Is after one thing and one thing only.

Which is why when he starts moaning in a way that you know means he's close, you pull away.

"Fuck," he hisses, almost keeling over in his seat. The look he gives you is one of sheer disbelief.

"What?" You smile as if butter wouldn't melt. Pretend like you didn't realise he was about to spill over. "You wanna cum, or something?"

"You know I—"

"Go get one of your other girls, then."

Dragging you up onto his lap, Jeongguk laughs, clutches the sides of your face with his hands. Nudges his nose against yours. Doesn't care to keep up the pretence anymore, 'cause he's sensing a nerve was struck.

Even if you are just being petulant for the sake of it, he doesn't ever want you to feel like it's a viable option. Says, "You know I don't want anyone else. Stupid."

"S'not what you said," you childishly pout against his lips. You know damn well he didn't mean it. Honestly, hearing him speak with such arrogance was a turn on; the acknowledgement that even though he's desired, you know he's chosen you. "You said—"

"Hey—you said you could fuck anyone down there," he reminds you. Presses a feathery kiss against the tip of your nose. "And you could. I don't want you to, though."

"No?"

"No, Byeol," Jeongguk whispers against your lips now. Lets his hand sink to your underwear. Pushes them to the side. Lines you up against his shaft. Encourages you to rock ever so gently, coating him in everything you are. "Want you forever, B. Just you and me. You want that, hmm? This, forever?"

Jeon Jeongguk has this way of making you feel powerful and pathetic all within the same moment. You want him so badly it hurts. And so you nod. Raise your hips. Line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Remind him, "No one else makes you feel like I do. They never will."

It's funny, 'cause that's exactly what Jeongguk was wanting to hear from you earlier. If he really wanted, he could be a dick—but you're the one being needy now, and he likes it so much. Adores it, even. You're so cute , he thinks. So he shakes his head. "No one, baby. Just you."

"You're mine," you tell him, then sink down onto his length. Both of you gasp from the sensation. You've been waiting for this; desperate for it. Foreplay is fun, but all Jeongguk ever wants these days is to utterly and completely lose himself in you. This, to him, is Nirvana.

He nods. Lets his eyes close as your walls adjust to his size. He's so big that it should be painful, but there's something about fucking Jeongguk that just works. The fit is snug, but it's perfect. "Yeah, baby. Yours."

Your hips grind ever so gently, the feeling of fullness he gives you hitting just right. Clit rubbing against his neatly trimmed patch of hair above the base of his cock, you're overwhelmed with just how good it feels to give yourself up for him.

As the sensation settles in, he encourages your movements. Gets you bouncing, his hands on your ass to keep control. Presses wet kisses to the base of your throat. Promises, "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

A man of traditions, Jeongguk takes 'ladies first' incredibly seriously. Knows he's been edged so well this evening that he won't last long at all. Needs to make sure you get there before him.

He sits you up straight. Stops your movements. Has you warming his cock as he just kind of stares at you for a moment. Everything else is drowned out around you both; the music, the lights, the fact this is Jeongguk's place of work, the way his phone is still recording you both.

With a hand on your waist, he holds your cheek with the other. Smiles as your eyes close, head sinking into his touch. Is so in love with you it feels like his heart might just explode.

"My pretty girl," he grins, biting down on his bottom lip. Shakes his head as if he can't believe his luck.

Your chest is exposed, pretty purple posies blooming on your skin from his lips. There's a sheen of glitter all over your body, and Jeongguk knows there must be one on his, too. It's getting harder to distinguish the pair of you as the days go by; your orbit growing smaller.

Both of his hands drop your pussy. One spreads your lips, while the other slowly rubs against your clit. Instantly, you tense a little, the pleasure pulsing through you.

"My pretty, needy girl," he corrects himself, and is incredibly pleased when you nod.

As one of your hands wraps around his wrist, you try your hardest to not start fucking him again. Want this feeling to persevere, but also innately want to coax an orgasm out of him. It's human nature. He's building you up. You wanna do the same right back.

Thick and firm inside you, Jeongguk's cock throbs from just how tightly your walls clamp around him when he begins toying with your clit. Head tipping back, the laugh that stutters in Jeongguk's chest has you whining.

"Stop being so hot," he groans. "Gonna make me cum so fuckin' fast."

Admitting this is a mistake, for it just makes you wanna interrupt his plans of making your finish first. Gets your ass bouncing on his map as Jeongguk desperately tries to hold himself back; to regain a little control. It's a fruitless endeavour. The silky warmth of your cunt is too good.

"Fuck," he grits, giving into the feeling. "B—"

His words are cut off by your lips stealing a kiss from him, that he then steals right back. Messy and without any considered thought behind them, your kisses dissolve into frantic, breathless whimpers. Jeongguk can't hold off.

Head knocking back, Jeongguk's grip on your waist tightens. He holds you down in place, his thick shaft filling you entirely. He's bottomed out; fully encased in the woman he loves. It's too fuckin much. His legs shake. Chest shudders.

And then it's happening; thick ropes of cum spurting into your cunt, filling the spaces he can't reach. He just wines. Whimpers. Curses. "Fuck. Cumming. Making me cum so fuckin' hard, babe. Fuck. Oh, fuck, this cunt. So fuckin' perfect."

His praise is met with the sweetest of giggles, which only encourage him to cum even harder . Both endless and over far too soon, Jeongguk cums so deeply inside you it feels like he's losing all the oxygen in his brain; like a trap door has been pulled beneath him and he'll never stop falling.

Lips finding yours once more, he eases his grip on your hips. Encourages slow strokes of your pussy up and down his cock just to ease the final spurts of cum out of him.

With a laugh and an incredibly heavy chest Jeongguk leans back once more. Shakes his head. Can't stop smiling. Nor can you.

When his gaze finally lands on you a moment or so later, he's still grinning as he whines, "I wanted to make you cum first."

As mad as it sounds, making Jeongguk cum is satisfying enough for you.

He would disagree. Thinks the concept of you not cumming is pure insanity. How anyone could have you like this and not strive to make you come undone is criminal. Also knows he can't stay inside you for much longer, 'cause the overstimulation might just kill him off.

Pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Jeongguk leverages his position. Lays you down, your head near his phone, his cock still inside you. Kisses the base of your throat as he reaches up for his phone. It's warm from the battery being drained, but it's still recording. He leans across and stands it up against one of your drinks on the table. Not much is in frame—but enough to capture his soaked cock glistening under the club lights as he pulls out of you.

Jeongguk is impatient. Tucks himself into his boxers and sinks down immediately. Plugs your hole with his fingers, keeping his cum inside you. Latches his lips around your clit. Sucks. Whines. Vibrates. Makes you writhe as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head.

If heaven is a place on earth, Jeongguk knows it must be between your legs.

His tongue strokes against you as his fingers curl. There's little care given to how messy it all is. If anything, it just makes him like it even more. Wants to fuck you all over again, but knows his cock isn't up for it yet, even if he is.

There's a small shudder to your body; a little warning sign that Jeongguk is edging you closer and closer to coming undone. Just a little more and you'll be there.

He withdraws his fingers, and sinks his tongue to your entrance. Gathers his cum on his tongue, then spreads it all over your needy cunt. Lays claim to you in a way that no one ever has before. Spits. Flicks his tongue so rapidly against your clit it's hard to comprehend. Gets you shaking. Shuddering.

And then he's sucking, fingers plugging you once more. Your body writhes, and he holds you in place. Sucks harder. Fingers faster. Shakes his head, still sucking on your clit. Releases your with pop and then delves back in.

You whine his name, but it's obscured by the bass pumping through the speakers. All you can do is focus on him. How he feels. How much he wants you to feel good, and how well he succeeds at it.

The pressure builds like a star about to burst—and then stardust is scattering around you both, your orgasm disrupting the very atmosphere you're orbiting in.

Sparking through you, the sensation of your orgasm almost makes you fucking cry. Your body shakes. Jeongguk doesn't relent. Goes until you're spent, legs jolting, whimpers pathetic.

Overstimulated and overwhelmed, you encourage him up. Get his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth. The taste of his cum intertwined with yours only serves to make you whine even more.

The pair of you are spent and sticky, and somehow still desperate for another.

He's the one who eases up first. Pulls back. Presses kisses all over your face. Your neck. Your chest. Your lips once more. Whispers with a smirk, "You got jealous ."

"Didn't," you pout a little.

"Did," he grins, letting his body collapse on yours, 'cause there's no way he wants to go back down to the dancefloor. Not yet. "Jealous and possessive."

"Says you," you huff a little, stroking up and down his still-clothed back with the tips of your nails. Part of you wishes you were home, in bed, clothes tangled in a pile on the floor. It's okay, though. You know it's where you'll end up.

Head on your chest, Jeongguk holds your tits just 'cause he can. Gets one of your nipples in his mouth, again just 'cause he can. Sucks. Pulls back just to say, "Oh, yeah. I was. Fucking hate the idea of you with anyone else." His lips latch around your nipple again, until he takes a second to add, "I'm literally in love with you."

You're caught between laughing and moaning when his lips wrap around your other nipple. There's no reason for him to be toying with you in the way that he is. Both of you have finished. He's just doing it 'cause he likes it.

"You're in love with my tits," you brush off his declaration.

Shaking his head, nipple still in his mouth, he looks up at you. Poutily lets your nipple slip from his lips. Assures you, "I'm an ass guy," then presses your tits together to get both of your nipples in his mouth at the same time.

"You're an ass, full stop," you laugh. "Lucky I love you."

Now this does pull his attention away from your chest.

"Yeah?" He grins, repositioning himself so that his nose can nudge against yours. On top of you, his chain pools against your chin—and then his lips are sinking into yours, pretty kisses taking the place of needless declarations. You both know exactly how you feel about one another.

"Yeah," you nod into his kisses. "So much."

By the time you finish your mindless chatter in the form of aftercare, Jeongguk's phone has a low battery warning on the screen. Neither of you even wanna think about how long that damn video must be.

You set the world to rights; finish your drinks, and cosy up together just to indulge in a little more time alone—but the night is getting away from you. Your friends will be wondering where you are.

Glancing around to make sure you haven't forgotten anything, Jeongguk's face bunches up when he clocks the security camera he'd forgotten about in the corner of the booth. Nods, to drag your attention to it.

"Yeonjun's gonna have a field day with that one," you grimace.

"I'll delete it before he can," Jeongguk promises you.

Far more sober than you both were earlier, Jeongguk deposits you off with your friends when you get back down to the dancefloor. Ignores their questioning of where you've both been. Gives you a quick kiss before he goes to the bar.

Yeonjun's brows seem to be perpetually raised—but it's just 'cause his eyes caught the glimmer of the booth door being opened half an hour ago, and knows damn well exactly where Jeongguk has been.

The fact that Jeongguk's hair is pointing in all different directions only confirms exactly what Yeonjun thinks he must have been doing.

"Need to go into the office," Jeongguk tells Yeonjun, but is met with the shake of his head.

"No need," Yeonjun deadpans. Leans a little bit closer. Assures him, "Cameras are off. Your secrets are safe, boss."

Jeongguk wants to die. Not for the fun reasons he normally does, but for the sheer embarrassment of his junior almost reprimanding him.

He also doesn't trust the cerulean-haired fucker as far as he can throw him.

"I'm still gonna check."

"Fine. But you'll owe me 20,000."

"Huh?"

"It's a bet," Yeonjun says. "I bet you 20,000 that they're off."

If Jeongguk wasn't already convinced, he is now. Yeonjun hates losing these dumb bets.

Still, Jeongguk agrees.

Not even two minutes later, he's walking back by the bar, chewing on minty gum that's kept in the office for far more innocent purposes than this, dropping two 10,000 won notes down for Yeonjun.

"You're welcome!" Yeonjun shouts after Jeongguk with a smug grin. Shakes his head. Puts on the thick accent of an old man and mutters to himself, "Kids these days. Randy bastards. No decorum. No class. Just hormones and bad decisions."

But as Jeongguk is drawn to you in the crowd, like a stargazer is drawn to Polaris, he knows that for all the bad decisions he's ever made, there is one universal truth: No decision has ever been better than making you starfuckers on that very first night.

Arm looping over your shoulders, he presses a kiss to the side of your head. Steals Jimin's drink from him. Gags when he realises it's neat tequila. Offers it to you regardless. Apologises when you also gag.

The night is lost to Dionysus. Just like its namesake, the club is a cesspit of sin and debauchery, but it's impossible not to love the way it feels.

You don't leave until the final song of the night.

"My place or yours?" Jeongguk asks as you meander down the street together, a little behind the rest of your friends. With convenience store snacks in your hands, Jeongguk's phone dead in his back pocket and your clutch bag in his hands, the pair of you are the poster children of a reckless youth maturing into something far better.

Gone are the days of seeking out new strangers, or living for the weekends.

This is it, you think. An endless back and forth of his place, or yours, until one day it'll become obsolete.

So you indulge in what little you have left of the early days. "Yours."

"You know Jimin'll wanna watch The Notebook in the morning, right?" He reminds you with a smile. Is at such ease with his life. Isn't sure what he did to deserve it all.

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Choosing to walk the half an hour distance it takes to get back to Jeongguk's place, instead of opting for a taxi like the others to their respective homes, you and Jeongguk revel in the early hours of the morning. Talk nonsense. Talk business. Talk nonsense about business.

Time wasted with him is really not wasted at all. Even if the sun is coming up by the time you're entering his building, nodding at the doorman, neither of you are tired of one another. It's hard to imagine a reality where that would ever be true.

When you reach his apartment door, both of you stop in your tracks. It's still on the latch. Ajar. He glances over to you, brows furrowed. Steps in front of you, tucking you in behind him.

Says, "Keep quiet."

Slowly edging the door open, the entryway is a mess. Where a neat pile of shoes typically sits, clothes are strewn. It confuses him for a second—until he hears something that makes him dry heave.

He pushes the door fully open, and is met by Jimin cosplaying as his best Jeongguk impression, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. His hands are over his crotch, naked and bare for all to see. Behind him, a half-naked girl darts to his room.

Both you and Jeongguk look at Jimin with equal parts shock and horror.

"At least close the bloody door!" Jeongguk almost shrieks.

"I thought you were going to DB's!"

"Well apparently not—wait," Jeongguk looks around the room. Recognises the clothes. So do you. Knows exactly who was wearing them earlier that evening. Gasps. Whisper-shouts, "Is that—"

"Shut up!" Jimin whisper-hisses back, and retreats backwards, hands still covering his modesty as if neither you nor Jeongguk have ever seen it before. "You didn't see shit!"

He escapes into his room, and you do hear his lock go, just to be safe.

Both you and Jeongguk look at each other in a state of shock. It's only broken when you say, "Well I guess he won't be watching The Notebook tomorrow."

But Jeongguk shakes his head. Nods towards the deep navy dress that's crumpled on the floor beside Jimin's shirt. The same dress Nabi had been in earlier that evening. Says, "It's her favourite film. She's the reason he watches it."

And on the counter, rests a flyer from the gallery event. It's folded into the shape of a butterfly.

Looks like the ones Jeongguk always attributed to Hayun.

It's only now that he realises he'd been wrong this whole time.

Just like Jimin watched The Notebook 'cause the girl he could never seem to get over loved it, Hayun made paper butterflies, 'cause her best friend taught her how to make them. Said it'd be a good little party trick to make boys fall in love with her.

And it had been—but it had also just been an entirely fabricated part of her personality. The irony of it all isn't lost on Jeongguk. All he can do is laugh. It confirms everything he already knew: he never understood love until you came along.

"What is it with us and walking in our housemates shagging?" You laugh as you kick off your shoes, unaware of Jeongguk's realisation. Sure he'd told you about Hayun's butterflies before you made your first birds, but it was so long ago that it's a distant memory, now.

"No idea," Jeongguk grins as he follows suit. Holds your hand as you head towards his bathroom. Forgets to grab his towels, but doesn't care even when he remembers. Will risk the naked dash across his apartment later. All he wants is to be with you right now. "We're not far off, though. Yoongi practically caught us at it earlier."

You hum as Jeongguk starts the shower, checking yourself over in the mirror as you discard your dress. The hickies bestowed upon you are ridiculous. The teasing from your friends will be relentless.

"Maybe we should stop being so reckless," you suppose with a glint in your eyes that Jeongguk catches as he turns to study you in the mirror. Slipping your dress off, you keep your eyes on him.

"Where's the fun in that?" He grins, coming to stand behind you. Dipping his lips to the base of your neck, his hands hold your hips. His kisses are gentle. Sleepy.

"So you want to get caught?"

"Never said that," he mumbles. "But I do want everyone to know you're mine, so if that's what it takes..."

"A ring would do the job just fine," you tell him without much thought. "Far less embarrassing, too."

Jeongguk rests his pointy chin on your shoulder. Looks at you in the mirror. "A ring?"

It's only now that you realise the gravity of what you've said. You're tired and your brain isn't really functioning right and oh god—you've barely even been dating for five minutes. It's too soon for any of that.

"Well I've already got a necklace," you try and downplay it, reaching up to touch the silver bird that sits between your collarbones. "Earrings work, too."

Jeongguk smirks. Stands. Rids himself of clothes, and walks to the shower. Tests the temperature of the water. Nonchalantly says, "Always thought you hated the idea of marriage."

"It's archaic," you casually reply, unclasping your bra, and letting it drop to the floor. Jeongguk's eyes are all over you. There's nothing about you he doesn't adore—your need to bicker with him included. "The tax benefits are nice, though."

He nods as you discard your underwear. Says, "I'd make you sign a prenup. Wouldn't want you stealing all my sculptures in the divorce."

" Action figures ," you correct him, joining him in the shower. He doesn't get a chance to argue back, for you're on your tippy toes and pressing a kiss against his lips to remedy the insult you know he's about to feign. "And you're already planning the divorce? That's not very promising. May as well not get married."

He shrugs. "Just making sure I have my ducks in a row before I commit to anything."

"Virgo," you accusingly tease, narrowing your eyes with a terribly hidden smile.

"What was it you said about Virgos?" He teases right back. "That we're written in the stars?"

You can bicker and you can argue all you like—but when Jeongguk has you in his sheets a little while later, curled up against his chest, softly settling into sleep like stardust into the atmosphere, he knows it must be true.

"Sweet dreams, B," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You mumble a response, half asleep already. Let him do as he pleases as he pulls your hand up to his lips. Barely register it when a tender kiss is pressed to your empty ring finger.

"Obsessed," you murmur against his chest—but also delicately press a kiss right where you know his heart is.

He just nods. Yawns. "Obsessed."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for demanding a kid's mother compensate me for the expensive protective screen he ruined?

I (24F) used to work in a tutoring center with two classes, my class had around 8 kids, the other class had more because the tutor there is more experienced. I was having trouble managing my time and keeping up with all the classes the kids had. There was this one kid Mike (6M) who is a good kid but slightly mischievous, but I had a lot to say about his mother, I don't like her because she doesn't care. For example, the center closes at 6:30 and she's always like 1 hour late to pick him up, sometimes when I'm in a hurry to leave, I end up having to give him a ride myself because I can't just leave him alone and she doesn't pay me for the extra work. She even started to expect me to give her kid rides whenever she has plans, and never offers to pay. I could've been more strict with her but unfortunately I have social anxiety and have trouble asserting myself, but it's common sense to pay people for these sort of things.

Sometimes she even leaves for a trip OUTSIDE OF THE COUNTRY after she drops him off at the center (for her job- but it's her personal business and she could literally choose a different time or at least arrange for a pickup for her kid??)

Also Mike has two smartphones that he brings with him everyday and is very protective of them. I have no idea if both of them belong to him but that's irrelevant, the point is somehow he's allowed to carry two smartphones at the age of 6, I find it weird. And apparently the mother isn't even aware of it?! (As will be explained later)

It's been a minute so I don't remember what else I didn't like about this mother but there WERE other issues.

Anyway, the center was unofficial and there weren't any real guidelines for me to follow and I was new and very inexperienced so I often went to the other tutor (36F) for advice and copied her teaching style. For the poems and songs the children had to memorize, she suggested I use a recorded audio on my phone to help them with it instead of having to reread the entire thing for them over and over.

So I used this method a lot. At first I used to hold the phone for them and stay near them, but as time went to I started to trust them with my phone as I see how they handle it but I stay close to it. This continued for like a month and nothing happened to my phone. Sometimes when they are done and waiting for their rides I even let them play games on my mobile sometimes and yet nothing happened.

But one time there was a lot of homework so for Mike and another kid on the same grade I played the audio on loop and left the phone next to them, I warned them from messing with it and left to help another kid with her homework.

As I'm busy with this other kid go back to Mike and I find out he peeled the my phone's protective screen on purpose and he was laughing? Yes he's 6 but he knew exactly what he was doing. He often didn't let anyone touch his phones and often checks for damages and goes on rants about how handle a phone.

I went to the other tutor for advice and told me that was unacceptable and the mother should compensate me for it, so I decided to finally assert myself and immediately messaged her to tell her what her kid did and told her the screen costed me over 100$ (which is a lot of money in our currency) and my job was part time so my monthly salary was only about 660$ and it was the only job I had so obviously I couldn't afford it on my own.

She responded by telling me her a 6 year old doesn't understand the value of these things and it was my fault for lending him my mobile. I replied that I only allowed him to borrow my phone because I saw how he treated his two phones and listed several examples of how he handles them and takes good care of them and understands what damages them.

Her only response was: "Who said he has two phones?"

I was so done that was her only argument, but before I could reply she called management to complain about me demanding her money, they promised to resolve the issue and hung up to hear my side of the story.

My boss told me I was very bold to assume the mother would pay me, while the other tutor was on my side, and I learned in a private conversation with my boss that she wasn't a fan the other tutor's teaching methods.

Needless to say, I quit, for many reasons but this was a big factor so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[makeitmakesomesense]

Natasha, did you think you could run away?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

@febuwhump Challenge Day 1: Helpless

Word Count: 1K

Her fingers shook. You watched in surprise, you glanced up at her expression. You could see it now, of course you could see it now. Your gaze dropped to her chest, its stuttering rise and fall.

Natasha noticed your attention. You watched her remember your presence. Her breathing regulated. She gave you a simple smile. 

‘C’mon’ She told you, hopping out of the parked jeep. She knew you’d follow, she was right of course. Her stride seemed confident, your legs felt shaky.

You sat in the post-mission debrief room together. A table sat between the pair of you and the two interviewers. Natasha was talking, she’d been talking for almost half an hour. She was mission leader, this was to be expected. Her hands were in her lap, hidden from anyone’s view but yours. They covered a pocket on her mid-thigh. The pocket was empty. Her fingers played with the fabric end of the zipper. You watched them loop through the fabric over and over as she recalled the mission’s events.

She twisted the end tightly as she skipped over the moment it happened. 

The interviewers interrupted her mid-speech. Natasha’s words halted immediately. The interview hesitated, thrown by the instant silence. Natasha swallowed, then her features relaxed. 

‘Go on.’ She gave a self deprecating nod towards the interviewer. An apology for a social faux-pas. 

The interviewer smiled in response. 

Natasha’s fingers gripped the zipper tightly. You watched her skin press into the metal.

The interviewer asked about the moment in the mission when the comms had cut out. You felt your anxiety rise automatically.

The interviewer acknowledged it had only been a few seconds, clearly anticipating the response on the tip of Natasha’s tongue. Still, they liked to have a thorough account of anything that wasn’t recorded. 

A muscle in Natasha’s jaw twitched with tension. You waited for her to speak, wondering if this was when she was going to tell someone. Finally say something. You watched her dig the zipper into her skin. The silence became awkward. You cleared your throat. 

‘By the time Agent Romanoff had calmed me down from my overreaction, the comms were already back online.’ You said with your own self deprecating smile. The interviewer’s attention turned to you. Her expression cleared along with the moment of silence. 

‘It was the first time the comms had ever gone down for me.’ You continued to lie easily. ‘I heard the burst of static and couldn’t think what to do.’

Natasha picked up the lie readily, expression calm again. ‘Things like this get covered in mission training, but reality can be different.’

Her tone was protective. Perfect for a mission leader advocating for their learning rookie.

The interviewer’s eyes softened slightly as she used a wrong piece of jigsaw to fill in the puzzle picture. You watched her score off a query about your raised heart rates during the mission. 

Five minutes later, you left the interview. You walked together, only because you were heading to the same place. The cafeteria was still serving lunch.

You didn’t speak as you walked. There wasn’t anything you could think to say. Natasha’s expression was calm, unremarkable to anyone walking past you. You wondered if she was still thinking about it. You wondered how she could be thinking about anything else.

The man’s voice that had come through your ear pieces. Just thinking about it raised the hairs on the back of your neck all over again. The chilling threat in his brief words. He hadn’t even been talking to you. 

Natasha picked up a plastic tray and joined the line for food. 

The eight words played in your head. Like a song that wouldn’t end.

‘Natasha. Did you think you could run away?

You picked up a tray and stood a few places behind her. 

‘Natasha. Did you think you could run away?

Just before the cafeteria staff could ask for her order. Natasha checked her watch. She rolled her eyes, swore under her breath and placed the plastic tray back on the counter before heading through a nearby door. No one else gave her a second glance. 

You knew her schedule had been cleared for the rest of the day. Just like yours. You hesitated. Just because you caught a lie, didn’t mean you had any right to it. 

You counted a few more seconds before placing your own tray atop of Natasha’s discarded one and mumbling about having to pee. 

You slipped out the same door she’d left through and found yourself in an empty corridor. You paused, uncertainty undermining your instinct to follow. 

You didn’t even know her. You knew the legends of course, about the Black Widow. You’d thought maybe it was a taunt from some arch nemesis. Someone Shield had been hunting for years. 

But then you’d seen Natasha’s fear. And then you’d watched her silence when Shield recovered the comms.

You glanced along the length of the corridor, at the plain gray doors on either side. This part of the complex was largely cut off from the rest of the building. Theoretically, you could open each door in order and eventually you’d find her.

‘Natasha. Did you think you could run away? 

You recoiled at the taunt still replaying in your head. You didn’t want to hurt her. The words made you feel evil. 

You walked to the first door on your left. A stationery closet, presumably for the unlikely event of a pencil shortage at lunch. Your heart dropped. You could hear her crying.

Evil words couldn’t stop you. You opened the door. 

Natasha looked up at you from across the room. She was sitting against the far wall, her knees drawn up. Her arms encircling them, like an empty hug. 

Shock irradiated from her at your appearance. You could see the immediate instinct for flight. Vulnerability was stamped all over her. 

She gulped down a sob. You felt something close to nausea. You remembered the flash of childlike panic when she’d heard that voice. You looked at Natasha again. 

She hadn’t asked Shield for help, because she didn’t think they could.

‘He’s bad.’ You surmised calmly, allowing yourself the stupidity of your words. ‘He’s really, really bad.’

Natasha’s lips trembled and you knew she couldn’t answer. 

A very familiar terror rose in your chest, the childhood dread of the dark and monsters. You shut the door behind you hurriedly, twisting the lock shut.

Illogically, you found yourself backing away from it. You glanced at Natasha. Tears were rolling silently down her cheeks now. You felt yourself slide down the wall next to her. The brush of her shoulder against yours was familiar, echoes of past missions shared. 

You felt her shaky breathing against your side. You reached for her hand, half surprised when she let you take it. You wove your fingers with hers, resting them on top of your touching knees. You gripped her tight. She gripped back tighter.

Together you watched the door. Waiting for the dark and the monsters to come. 

‘Natasha. Did you think you could run away?

[huellitaa]

bee's record player: march edition. 🎀𓂃 ࣪˖

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !! notice !! ♡

surpriseee <3 wanted to try and add a little of my personal influence to my girlblog since music is literally my entire life & thought it might be funny to show u all what makes up the chaotic glittery mess that is my brain (and because there are almost 1000 of you beautiful people following me whatt?? thank you😭). i've allllways wanted to do smth like this too so, here u go !! 🩷💗

(+ this is a way for me to rant about my interests without being annoying to my friends / moots 😭. to anybody who has listened to me rant or cry or scream or whatever over music ily guys mwa)

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 NEW ARRIVALS

goddess, laufey

♡ released march 6th, 2024

♡ single

♡ running time: 4 minutes 28 seconds

eternal sunshine, ariana grande

♡ released march 8th, 2024

♡ full album / LP

♡ best songs: supernatural, the boy is mine, we can't be friends (wait for your love), intro (end of the world)

♡ running time: 35 minutes 33 seconds

unheard, hozier

♡ released march 22nd, 2024

♡ extended play / EP

♡ best songs: too sweet (i adore this song.)

♡ running time: 13 minutes 59 seconds

super real me, illit

♡ released march 25th, 2024

♡ extended play / EP, debut! ♡

♡ best songs: magnetic, midnight fiction

♡ running time: 9 minutes 36 seconds

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 BEE'S TRACKS: TOP 10

♡ 10. my world, illit

girly girl song!! i've been obsessed with illit's whole super real me album, their debut is soo good oh my gosh. its criminally short but i seem to have listened to it a lot !! 😭

♡ 9. we can't be friends (wait for your love), ariana grande

i have SO MUCH to say about this song but it resonates with me so much in so many different ways and i just. oh my god. ariana i love u so much

♡ 8. we got so much, le sserafim

k so i initially didn't really like this song but... it's grown on me. a lot. since it first came out. um. it's pretty simple honestly and it's just really girly girl it makes me feel like a school girl i love it

♡ 7. this is what makes us girls, lana del rey

girlblogger anthem!! okay confession i did not get into this song until LAST MONTH. i know. it's terrible and i am ashamed i am so sorry. but i have formed such a strong emotional attachment to this song its crazy i adore it

♡ 6. imperfect for you, ariana grande

exposing myself pt.3 i was in a really big depressive slump for like one half or more of this month actually and this song helped me so much i can't 😭 i love you ari

♡ 5. the boy is mine, ariana grande

(are you noticing a pattern here yet) um another ariana grande song no lol um idk what ur talking about haha 🥰 this song is so twerkable im sorry i wasnt a fan at first but im obsessed i need to stop

♡ 4. smart, le sserafim

no words. once again wasn't a huge fan originally but oh my god im obsessed w it now. afrobeat type of songs are, will, and always be top tier and i will die on this hill. (i've been SO OBSESSED with le sserafim lately but i think thats fairly obvious here😭)

♡ 3. eternal sunshine, ariana grande

i adore this song oh my god. its become one of my favs of all time since it came out. this was on loop for HOURS when i first heard it and its such a comfort song for me. it shows her growth so beautifully and there's so much about it i just absolutely adore like i could write a whole essay on this song and still wouldnt be able to express how much i love it

♡ 2. magnetic, illit

illit was bound to pop up here again this month tbh ok so me and my bsf were listening to this on loop the entire time at school a little after it came out like we were sitting in the front row of our class and were still watching the magnetic mv under the desk on her phone. so in love with this song it makes me so happy n feel so cute i ahh <3

♡ 1. supernatural, ariana grande

SUPERNATURAL IS THE SONG EVER. first day it came out i listened to the album and this was on loop constantly for the next week or more. it's made it up to my top 10 fav songs of all time ever and i listen to A LOT of music. this song is my life<333

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ALBUMS

♡ 1. eternal sunshine, ariana grande

fairly self explanatory. i love u ari. there was soo much ari this month bc ive been a diehard ari stan since i was 8 and have never looked back. since yes and released in january i have been ecstatic about ag7 releasing in march after 4 YEARS of no ari so this was MONUMENTAL for me 😭😭 THE DROUGHT IS OVER ARIANATORS RISE 🩷🩷🩷

♡ 2. super real me, illit

so basically the day this album came out my best friend was spamming me about them and i only listened to them like 2 days after cuz she was annoying me about it and OH MY GOD. i listened to them and then proceeded to loop the whole album for the next 72 hours 💗 and for a debut as well is amazing ily illit girlies

♡ 3. with you-th, twice

so i wasn't much of a fan at first bc they just sounded really similar and bland to me but its grown on me a lot since it came out and i've been listening to it so much throughout the entirety of march. its just so oddly comforting in a way and feels like a hug in music form (+ rush and bloom are the best songs argue with the wall)

♡ 4. easy, le sserafim

self explanatory. i'm obsessed with le sserafim at the moment and this album is everything to me. ass shaking album 10/10

♡ 5. k-12, melanie martinez

i have been revisiting one of my fav albums of all time this month and its as amazing as always. this has been my favourite album of all time since it came out and i will never ever get over k12 🩷 10000/10!!!! <3

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ARTISTS

♡ TOMORROW X TOGETHER

♡ TWICE

♡ LANA DEL REY

♡ LE SSERAFIM

♡ ARIANA GRANDE

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 SPECIAL MENTIONS

♡ happy 1 year to portals by melanie martinez! oh my god this album helped me through all of 2023 and i went to see her on tour in london for my birthday last november and it was surreal. she's amazing. i adore her and this album (i have it on vinyl hehe) and love it SOO MUCH 💖

♡ expect ordinary things by ariana grande to be high high on my top 10 next month its been on loop for days now im obsessed

♡ there's going to be a LOT in next month's issue seeing as 2 of my all time favs are coming back next month, so prepare for that! so excited ahh <3 (one has already released at the time of writing this. prepare urselves.)

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 EDITOR'S NOTE

this was SO FUN oh my gosh. i am 100% making this a regular thing~ lmk if it was entertaining, improvements needed, artists / albums you'd like me to keep up with etc, or just general comments, ideas, reviews and so on. thank you so much for reading, this was so fun! look forward to next month 💗🫶💖

lots of love 💘

[jessequinnfirstofhername]

The Rules:

Every twenty-four hours there will be another round. After every round, the song in last place will be eliminated.

If there are multiple songs tying for last place, there will be a special elimination round. In these rounds, every song in last place will be eliminated, even if all the songs have tied equally.

When there are only two songs remaining, they will face off against one another in a week-long poll to determine the victor.

If the song that you consider the best isn’t listed here, hit the ‘I think you forgot ___’ option and reply to this post with the overlooked song. The song with the highest ‘write-in’ votes will be added to the next round. Welcome to the party, More Than Anything and Ready For This!

This is all for fun. Don’t take it too seriously ;)

Out For Love is OUT!

(Note: This is an unofficial upload that may be taken down. The official recording of the song can be found here)

(Song starts at 1:35)

I love this song, and I love how everyone and their dog in the fandom has (lightly) made fun of the "Loo-oo-oo-oove" hook. Even Joel Perez (Val) has poked gentle fun at it. It's the definition of an ear worm, and I could happily listen to it on a loop. My only complaint is that it's too short!

We're in the semi-finals! Round Eleven!

[kashimos-hajime]

—𝟐𝟐 - 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: getou suguru x fem!reader

summary: anonymous musician, kogane, had been dropping non-hints of who they were since they first began releasing music to the students of tokyo metropolitan technical college nine months ago to the frustration of everyone ever.

getou suguru, long-time (arguably #1) fan and campus heartthrob with a reputation is determined to find out exactly who they are before he graduates, and he has no idea where to start. that is, until resident idiot and best friend and roommate, gojo satoru, points him in the direction of you, the musical genius behind kogane

word count: 11.3k

a/n: hey yall!! i’m here with one of the most important chapters of the series. for reference for the song that *spoiler* suguru and y/n dance to, it is house of cards - full length by bts. i recommend you search up the translation of the lyrics if you do give it a listen because it has a lot of foreshadowing (also it’s a certified banger)

[9:30 AM]

You get up with a sense of trepidation. 

You spent all of last night picking out what to wear, and making sure you had everything you’d need so you wouldn’t rush in the morning, and as you leave the apartment while Maki still asleep, you can’t help feeling like your stomach’s about to spill out of your body.

A date. Your first… real date in a long time. Are you insane? As you check your reflection in your phone camera, you can’t help but scrutinize every aspect of your face. Every imperfection. What is going on through his head? What… what made him suddenly ask you out?

No. He might not even have meant it like that, you tell yourself firmly, turning off your phone screen and slipping it back into your pocket. Despite what your friends said, you have to keep a sane head about you. Not to mention, all that talk about Sukuna…

There’s no space for him in your head today of all days, and you firmly try to shut down that thought before it can branch any further.

He’s waiting in front of the building, looking around, and the way your entire body seems to lunge forward at the sight of him makes you burn in embarrassment. He’s dressed in sweats and a hoodie, a windbreaker pulled over that, and his gym bag is slung across his body, but he looks handsome as always, and he lights up when he spots you coming over.

Your heart cramps in your chest.

“Good morning. Sorry if it’s too early,” is the first thing Suguru says as you approach him. 

“If it was too early, I would’ve came later. I need to get work done anyway.” You push your glasses up your face, and fish out your student card from your pocket. It’s attached to a lanyard, and you loop your wrist through it. “I need to stop by the recording studio first really quickly before we head to where you needa go.”

“Yeah, sure.” They walk to the door, and you scan your card so they can head in as he adds casually, “You look nice.”

Your ears warm. “What?”

“You look nice,” he repeats. “I like your cardigan.” You look over at him just as there’s a beep, but he’s already moving to hold open the door and he sweeps his arm, gesturing for you to go in first. “After you.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Maybe it’s the memories of the last time you’d seen him flashing in your head, but your entire mouth blazes and you duck your head to walk in first, leading the way. 

The building’s pretty confusing if you’re a newcomer, but it’s one of the most comfortable places you’ve ever been in. Equipped with many rooms for recording music, practicing instruments, rehearsing for dance, it’s a place where many of those majoring in such studies have to be in for up to twelve hours a day. Your work space is the third floor, and Suguru follows close, just a half-step behind.

In the elevator, you glance up at the numbers.

“How’re you and Mina?” you ask as nonchalantly as you can. “You said you guys weren’t friends?”

“I stopped seeing her,” he answers. “Just not interested anymore.”

“She got boring?” You frown, surprised. It’s harsh of you to say, but Suguru’s been seen hanging onto her since the party. You’d thought that whatever had occurred to him was nothing more than water under the bridge and she was… she’s prettier than you, and bubblier. Very kind. Friendly. Hard to find someone like her boring.

Suguru shrugs. “No. She just wasn’t my type.”

“She’s not your type? But she’s beautiful and really nice, too.”

“So?”

“Well, if that isn’t your type, I don’t know what is.” The doors open and you walk ahead. He trails after you after a beat, and your mind wracks for what could possibly be the reason Suguru decided to drop someone like Mina so suddenly. Not interested in dating? Then why was he with her for the past week? And he hadn’t denied the rumours surrounding him earlier when you had asked him before yesterday.

Men are so fucking confusing. 

You shake your head.

The studio you’ve unofficially designated as yours as one of the senior music students is the one closest to the lounge room that houses a small kitchen unit, big couches, and even a TV that is hoisted onto a wall. 

You explain, briefly, about the lounge: “There’s even a gaming system that someone donated a few years back.” Unlocking the door to the lounge for him, you turn to Suguru with a faint smile. “You can wait here,” you tell him. “I just needa grab something next door.”

“I can’t come with?” he asks and you shake your head. “Why not?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Surprise?”

A track that you’d been crafting for a while that you want to upload later in the year, but you’re not about to tell him that so you just smile. “Mhm.” Suguru pouts playfully, and you shove him into the room, promising you’ll be back soon. “I’m sure you can entertain yourself. I’ll just be next door.”

“But I wanna see your studio.”

“You’ve seen it before.”

“I know, but it’s been a while.” 

“Suguru.”

“I missed you,” he sniffs, nose scrunching and a playfully childish expression on his face. You roll your eyes, and he inches closer, as if to walk past you towards your studio himself. You grab his arm, and he grins toothily. “I want to spend time with you, (Name).”

“Can’t you last two seconds without me?”

“I think I’ll die,” he affirms, and you can’t help your own foolish smile. He tilts his head, catching it, but you merely turn away, taking the arm you’ve grabbed and throwing it towards the lounge door. “Wait—“

“Stay put, baby,” you drawl, and his eyes widen. Ears beginning to pink, he opens his mouth to argue but you simply shove him deeper into the room and close the door on him. 

Scampering to your studio, you swipe your card and slip in. Taking your laptop out of your bag, you hook it up and begin to transfer a file you wanted to insert into the track. It’s a pretty old audio, from a recording of when you were a new student on campus, and now that you’re in your last year, you thought it would be right ro release a graduation song. A last farewell. It includes your voice back then, too, and you cringe at your own singing as you listen to it playback through headphones you shove onto one ear.

As soon as it’s done, you click through to make sure it transferred properly before sighing and unhooking everything. You try to keep your school laptop pretty empty, consisting of only new works in progress and other school files, which means all your music on the side has been shoved into USBs scattered across everywhere you live, other computers. One day, you’ll be glad that you can strip this laptop bare and have it focused solely on producing your tracks and not stress out about anything else.

You slip your laptop back into your bag and head out, migrating back to the lounge room. Inside, Suguru’s laying on the couch, his legs draped over the back of it as he scrolls on his phone, but at the sound of the door opening, his eyes dart up to meet yours.

“Look who came crawling back,” he teases, drawing himself up, and you shake your head, moving to check on the fridge. There’s a lot in here surprisingly, but you think a lot of it comes from people working at restaurants and them bringing their leftovers when they can. You sigh, rifling through it to make sure nothing’s spoiled. It stinks up the entire floor if someone’s not on top of it so most of the senior students keep up to date on the inside. “Woah, you got a lot of food in here.”

You jump, head snapping to the sound, and you jerk back when you find Suguru’s face mere inches away from yours. Heat flashes across your face as you straighten up, backing up. He observes you quietly through squinted eyes, and then he leans over the fridge door that barricades them from each other, smirking. “Did I scare you?”

“The food is for all-nighters. Need coffee and food to stay awake when you’re working at 3 AM,” you manage to say, pulling away from him as quick as you can without it being weird. Dark eyes bore into yours, and you reach to close the fridge. It seals itself shut and suddenly there’s nothing between their bodies. For some reason, it makes you feel very vulnerable. “And no. You didn’t scare me.” 

He clicks his tongue with a wry side smile. “Tch. Dang.”

Running a thumb underneath the shoulder strap of your laptop bag, you begin to walk away. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet, you keep me around.” He follows.

. 

You’ve only been to the uni’s dance studios once or twice, but Suguru leads you to one you’ve never been in before. It’s on the top most floor, and has a good view of the rest of the campus. When they go inside, the blinds are down, but Suguru tells you to make yourself at home and heads to pull them up, revealing so much sunlight pouring into the room it makes you squint. One wall is all mirrors to the left of the windows, and on the right are ballet barres, which you situate yourself under so you’re near the center back of the room. 

“You comfy there, baby?” he calls, and you look up on instinct, nodding before registering what he called you and you look down, pulling your laptop out hastily. He walks back over to you, sliding forward onto his knees with a hand planted on the ground and his leg bumps into yours as he flashes you a smile. “If you get hungry or anything, tell me. We can stop whenever.”

“Okay. But you’re working on something, too, right?”

“Mhm.”

“What is it?”

“Just workshopping some things,” he answers. “I hope you don’t mind me playing music.”

“I got my headphones,” you reply, pulling them out. He tilts his head, eyes flickering to it, before back up to you, and you blink, brow furrowing at the soft smile that flits across his face. He sighs, sets a hand on your head and pushes himself off.

“You’re cute,” he mutters, shaking his head. You scowl but he’s already turning his back, and you’ve lost your chance to spit something out in retort. 

This is so weird.

Is this a date or not?

It certainly doesn’t feel like one. They haven’t seen each other in a few days, but it feels just like it did when they hung out before. The heat, the way you feel so self-conscious around him. He gets close to you, and something in you wants to freak out but you can’t even fucking tell if you want to freak out in a good way or a bad way, and then he’s gone and the entire opportunity has melted away.

Suguru’s got rid of his jacket and hoodie in favour of a loose white tee, and now that he’s just in socks, he begins to roll down his body, stretching and slowly warming up with a lo-fi music playlist that you’ve just noticed beginning to play. His eyes are closed so he can’t see you looking, but when he lifts his arms up above your head, a flash of skin makes you avert your gaze.

You should not be staring.

Firmly placing your headphones on, you open your audio mixing program and bury yourself into the work. The sunlight warms your skin pleasantly, and you begin to forget where you are, finding a comfortable slouch as your mind begins to run like an engine humming, searching for new nooks and crannies in the score that you can fit or adjust another aspect of the instrumental. You haven’t finalized lyrics or anything, but there’s a certain sound that’s missing, and you’re not sure what it is.

It’ll have to be saved for later. You can never be satisfied with what you make. It’s probably one of the worst aspects of being a perfectionist, you think. You can’t let loose ends be. It’ll dog at you until you force yourself to give it up, but until then, you’ll keep trying to craft the perfect goodbye.

Replaying a segment of the bridge, you adjust your legs, stretching them out in front of you and resting your computer in your lap. Your eyes glance to the top right corner to check on the battery, and you roll your neck under a palm as you fish out your charger from your bag blindly. Fingers wrapping around the looped cord, you look up.

And what catches your eye makes your entire body freeze, soften, melt. Your eyes widen as you watch Suguru dance. He’s beautiful as he moves, his hair unbound, his body a singular flowing being that pushes and pulls with the pulse of sound. Your heart lurches into your throat as you dumbly slide the headphones off your ears just to hear what he’s hearing.

You’ve seen him dance before—of course, you have at year-end festivals and other presentations. In short bursts when they were talking about the project. It’s not an unknown fact that Suguru is one of the most talented dancers in the program. 

But there’s something different here. It doesn’t feel like a performance, more it’s like you’re watching something you’re not sure you should be seeing.

The purest expression of human emotion in the way his body is impacted by each note, Suguru bleeds something… vulnerable. Something raw. It’s a pain that echoes and your legs twitch, as if you want to join him, and it takes all your impulse control to stay down.

You’ve never been so close to Suguru while he was immersed fully in his choreography, and when his feet shift, when his arms stretch into those languid lines that are honed with practice, you can’t help but feel something swell in your chest. It hoists the two broken halves of your heart like a balloon, and mends the sharp edges with soft, buttery rubber that wanes under the grace of his pirouette.

You feel soft, and warm, and cherished as you observe art. You don’t know if this is how other people feel when they watch him dance, but this is how you feel. It might be because you have feelings for him, or maybe it’s the way his eyes are barely open, letting his instinct guide him, letting his heart lead his body to extend into the most beautiful lines, but in the sunlight pouring through the wide, tall windows, you are sure that Suguru’s pale golden figure swaying to the song pouring from the speakers is as close to an angel as you will ever get.

The song begins to climax, and Suguru prepares himself for a sharp spin. Your breath hitches and the world begins to slow as he pushes off his foot. Leg out to the side, he begins to pull it in with a control you can’t even fathom. As he turns faster and faster, though, his balance falters, and he stumbles out of the turn four rotations in.

Collapsing to his knees, Suguru lets out a frustrated noise, and he rolls out and lands spread-eagle on his back. He slaps his hand on the floor before it curls into a tight fist, and he throws an arm over his eyes. When the track completely finishes, he flips himself onto his hands and knees, and pushes himself up to his feet again, eyes dark and a displeased scowl plastered across his mouth. It’s so dark it nearly takes you aback, but you know exactly the feeling.

“I like the song,” you offer quietly as the music starts again from the beginning of the track. Suguru’s gaze snaps to you, and you meet his stare head on, offering a half-smile and a shrug. The tension in his face melts away, and the corner of his lip pulls up. Using the bottom of his tee to wipe the sweat from his face, he sighs, and turns around, staring at himself in the mirror and letting his arms swing out, shaking the excess tension out. “You’re a beautiful dancer, Suguru.”

“Thanks. If I could get this turn, maybe I’d be even better,” he adds the latter in a softer, more venomous tone, and you shake your head.

“It looks difficult.”

“I guess.” He shakes his head and sets himself into the prep stance for the turn again. His shoulders square off, and he shifts his weight testily on his back foot. Arms out, he stares at his own reflection, and he’s about to go when he drops his limbs, turning around to look at you. “Don’t watch me.”

“Why?”

“It makes me nervous.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because when pretty girls watch me, I get shy,” he drawls, hands on his hips. His tee sleeves have been folded up as a make-shift tank top, and his posture’s slouched as he cocks his head, still catching his breath. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “Turn around, (Name).”

“I literally will not do that,” you reply. “Staring at the wall is stupid.”

“For me?”

“What on earth makes you think that would make me change my mind?”

He sighs dramatically, and you can’t help your smile growing as he turns back around. You return your focus to your laptop, but watch through your eyelashes as he sets himself into his prep stance once more. One attempt. Two. Four.

You can’t tell if it’s getting better or worse. You have no expert eye, but when Suguru falls onto his back and runs a hand raggedly through his sweaty hair, pulling on the ends, you know for sure that he isn’t feeling his best. You sigh, putting all your stuff down and getting up. He doesn’t raise his head at the sound, and your heart swells in sympathy at the fierce scowl twists his face.

Descending to your knees, your lips press together, and he tilts his head towards you. An arm has been tossed over his eyes again, and he lifts it a bit higher when he realizes you’re so close.

“This is embarrassing,” he admits. “I wanted to impress you with how unbearably talented I was at dancing, but I’ve been stuck on this part of my routine for weeks. To be honest, I thought the extra motivation would help.”

“Perfectionist,” you mutter, surprisingly fond. His face softens, and you help him sit up. He shakes his head, and you let your hand rest on his elbow as he hunches over, sighing. “Maybe you’re in a rut because you’re so focused on it.”

“You think?”

“Mmm, that’s how I feel when I compose something. If there’s sections that aren’t connecting the way I want, I just keep working and go back to it.” Sitting back on your calves, you shrug. “I get frustrated really easily, but I have a pride thing about it, so it’s been a hard road of figuring out that giving your brain a break actually helps see the solution clearer.”

You feel cold compared to the heat radiating off of him. When he offers a hand, you let go of his elbow to take it, and together, they stand. Your heart is pulsing at a mellow pace, but it oozes warm honey everywhere through your body, and it makes your limbs feel lethargic. Your mouth opens, and you wonder what you would’ve said, but Suguru merely grins and it silences you.

“You always know what to say, huh.”

“I’ve been freaking out about a lot of things long before I met you,” you answer, and he laughs. Suguru squeezes your hand before letting go and heading to where his phone is hooked up and you grab your fingers, the tingling that buzzes over your skin making you uncomfortable in your own skin. “What are you doing now?”

Pausing the music, he scrolls on his phone, and you’re about to head over, curiosity piqued, but he holds out a hand, concentration overtaking his features.

“Hold on one second… trying to find it, ah—here it is.”

He presses play and piano begins to flow through the speakers before a strong, hearty string accompaniment joins the instrumental, and Suguru begins to saunter over to you as vocals kick in. You barely hide your smile at the over-exaggerated way he bends his knees as he swaggers over, his body swaying like a piece of silk flowing through wind.

“What are you doing?”

“Convincing you to dance with me with my uncontrollable appeal.”

You laugh. “You’re doing a terrible job of doing it.”

“Am I?” He finally arrives within arms length, and his fingers reach for your forearms, trailing down to your wrists. Leaving trails of cold fire that cause your spine to shudder, you let him pull you into him, and you shake your head as he guides your hand onto his shoulder. His other hand clasps yours in a firm grip you can easily slip out of, and his eyes are on yours the whole time, gauging for any sort of discomfort that could flicker across your face. 

His concern is touching, but you can’t imagine even deciding to run now as his arm tentatively rests on your waist. You step closer, and his Adam’s apple bobs. A tiny nod to himself, Suguru adjusts his feet, shifting his weight in a easy, simple move to the music. 

“Maybe you’re not so bad,” you admit, tilting your head. Your hand on his shoulder runs down the curve of it, and you watch the sun hit his smooth face that’s not lost its pink tinge ever since you’ve come close to him. “You know how to lead.”

“I’m an excellent dance partner,” he informs you, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t let me convince you otherwise.” 

You have never danced with someone like his before. It’s completely out of your comfort zone to be this close with someone who you aren’t already close with, but Suguru tells no lie in regards to his passion for dancing. You can’t deny you don’t feel out of place as Suguru turns them around the room to the beat as the music begins to pick up in the chorus. 

His feet are placed smoothly, and he guides you without you needing to glance around, but you’re not quite sure you could’ve looked away from his dark eyes either way. Dark, affectionate, his watchful gaze does not stray from your face for a moment. Hair nearly falls into his eyes, but every time, you brush it back behind his ear, and he smiles when you touch his face—not a full smile, but that one he does that pulls at the corner of his mouth teasingly. Like a secret shared between two people. A secret between the sun and the moon.

He lifts his hand to turn you a few times, and he always catches you as they disappear in between the violin, the sound of the singers breathing through their notes in heavenly harmonies, the consistent pattern of piano chords that you can hear as clear as you can feel your blood in your ears. 

Music is your life. You can’t deny it. That, and the intrinsic link it has to dancing. The expressions of the soul. Oh… Suguru. You cannot help but think of the poeticism of it. The romance of it all. Your rose-tinted glasses shift, catch the sunlight, and you can’t help your smile grow bigger as the music begins to fade. You and Suguru still step to their own tune that’s been strung into their bodies, and as he guides you into another spin, you realize then that you trust him entirely.

You trust Suguru not to drop you—or, at least, to break your landing when you fall for him.

Whether it’s to reciprocate your feelings, though you doubt it, you know that through everything he says, everything he does… he cares about you. You’re not stupid enough to deny that he has some sort of affection for you, and that he only has your best intentions, and you have to tell him. You have to tell him everything. Sukuna. Your feelings. Everything. It bottles up inside you, shakes so suddenly like a boiling kettle, that you think you might explode.

He stops your turn, and their fingers find each other easily this time, interlacing. Suguru’s smiling at you, and you lift your hand from his shoulder to brush a few stray strands back away from his face. He turns his face into your knuckles, and you poke his brow, pushing him back.

“You’re so clingy,” you mumble, secretly pleased, and he laughs. Nerves twist your stomach as you let your hand return to his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I missed you. We haven’t spoken at all in person this week since the party.” His hand on your waist does not let go, and you let go of his hand in favour of draping your arms over his shoulders lazily. His free palm settles on your other side and they toddle, sway to a panel of sunlight where it’s warm. Suguru hums, slowly stopping their rocking rhythm so they can just stand in the golden beam. “You’re a good follower. If you were in our program, so many people would want to partner up with you.”

“It’s not hard to be a follower. The lead does all the work.”

“That’s not true,” he corrects. “It’s hard to let go of control and trust someone like that, especially people you don’t know that well. The lead has to know where they’re going most of the time and physically hold up their partner, true, but the follower has to let themself flow with the lead. If they resist, it makes everything impossible. They support the lead just as much as the lead supports them.”

“But I do know you. That’s why I trust you,” you reply. “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even let them touch me.”

“Hah. Now, that, I have some experience in.”

“So, you’re happy that I’m letting you so close to me, now?” Something playfully malevolent possesses your tongue and you nearly regret your next words as they fly out: “Nanami wasn’t this close to me at the Halloween party, if you’re still keeping score.”

He groans. “Don’t bring up my stupid lapse of judgement, (Name).”

“I think I’ll bring it up as much as I’d like,” you retort, grinning. “You got so jealous over nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. He likes you and you guys spent nearly the whole night together.”

“Well, whose fault was that? I wanted to spend time with you, but you decided to be all grumpy, but don’t worry, I haven’t seen him since.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you jealous again? He barely even exists to me.”

“I know, but—“

Exasperated, you shake your head. “Suguru. Why do you care so much? And I know I asked you this before, but… but Nanami’s not here. He’s not even—I don’t even have any way to message him,  and it’s not like he reached out, so why does it still bother you?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

“What is?”

“How much I wanted to be where he was,” he confesses. Each word presses against your skin in a plush, soft breath, and your heart shoots forward as he tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours. Stomach tightening, you swallow, lips parting. Suguru lets out another pained sigh, “Oh, fuck.”

His eyes find your mouth.

When Sukuna kissed you for the first time five years ago, it had been your very first kiss. You hadn’t known, truly, what it would spiral into. You couldn’t really see his eyes at the time, and in your dreams, they are swallowed by his shadows. In reality, his room had just been too dark to make out anything more than the shape of his nose, his chin, his lips, outlined by the light of his laptop screen. You couldn’t even watch it happen. It just happened. 

One moment, you were watching a show, the next, a mouth had pressed against yours softly, and you submitted to him. For years, you have wondered if the lights had been on, if you would’ve still been there. If the lights had been on as a witness to what your body was doing, would your brain have screeched to a stop?

You think of this now.

Not because you want to think of him. You don’t. You just look into Suguru’s face, and you think of Sukuna, who you can barely recall at this very moment, and you watch it happen this time. 

There’s so much sunlight in this room it’s almost spilling out of their skin, and you can see the way Suguru’s eyebrows twitch together. You watch his thoughts like a one-way glass; you can see into him, and he can’t see a single thing into you, and as he searches your eyes, your mouth, your face for the answers to questions you’re nearly certain he’s silently asking, a sinking feeling begins to rise into your stomach at how long it’s taking. Sukuna had been near instantaneous. You had initiated last time at the party.

But they’re both sober right now, in broad daylight, and they’re both more than aware of what’s going to happen. You’re aware of every atom in your body—the placement of his hands on your body, your arms over his muscled shoulders. You can see the pores in his cheeks, the small acne scars from when he was a teenager you didn’t know existed.

Wasn’t this how a kiss went? Don’t they just go for it?

“If you kissed me right now,” you mumble, feeling more and more uncertain the longer the moment drags on, “I wouldn’t be mad at you or anything.”

Yet, he still doesn’t move.

Why?

Because he won’t do it.

No.

Because why would he? 

You’re right.

Why… would Getou Suguru ever kiss you when he’s sober?

“I can’t,” he finally utters, and the little voice in your head crows in triumph. You draw your hands back until you’re holding onto his shoulders, but even that feels like too much and you step far enough that his hands fall off your body too. 

Oh… but you expected this, didn’t you? 

Fucking shut up.

A boiling oily feeling coats your nose and cheeks as Suguru scowls at the floor, fists clenching and unclenching. His knuckles blanche, and you stare at them, trying to ignore the burning in your eyes. The back of your neck prickles as he curses hotly. “Fuck. Fuck me.”

“What?” you intone, lifting your head with a deep breath and pasting a smile on your face. His head jerks to you, but you only keep that wry half-smile on your face. “Taking the rejection harder than me or something?”

A horrified expression seizes his face, and he grabs your arms suddenly, his mouth opening to explain in a rush. “No, no. (Name), wait—“

“Suguru, it’s fine if you don’t want to kiss me,” you tell him despite the ache in your heart. Gently pushing his grip off with the side of your palms, you pull away. Your face is burning with shame, but you swallow your injured pride in favour of appearing unaffected. It’s better if people don’t know how they hurt you. It’s embarrassing when others figure out that they can hurt you like that. 

After all, you’re supposed to be cold, closed off. Untouchable.

Except, you had decided you would tell him anyway, didn’t you? You’d tell him all about the hurt that has festered and rotted in your heart in hopes that it’ll clear a space for him to settle in.

Except, when Suguru reaches for you again so insistently, tentative shaking fingers at your wrists, you don’t feel as invincible as you’d like.

You’re a book open for his perusal. You’ll tell him. You will. He’s already denied you one thing, but if you want to be friends with Getou Suguru, you must be as honest with him as he has always been with you.

“Actually,” you finally manage to say, “this is probably a good thing. It was stupid of me. We both said we weren’t looking for… for anything, so it’s better not to complicate things with that sort of stuff. I get it.”

“(Name).” His thumbs stroke your wrists and you want to curse his name. “(Name), no, No, it’s not that I don’t… you don’t understand how stupid I feel knowing I said all that shit about you not being my type and here I am standing, wanting nothing more than for you to kiss me. Or let me kiss you.” He laughs nervously, and draws your hands closer to his chest. You can feel his heart thumping swift like a river against your knuckles, but you can only blink in response to his own words. “It’s just… I need to tell you something before I dig myself too deep a hole that I can’t get myself out, y’know, I—”

“I like you, Suguru,” you blurt out, and when those words leave your mouth, you feel so relieved you think your heart might float out of your body. Suguru’s mouth drops open and you twist your hands to take hold of his own, squeezing painfully. “I like you… a lot. Like in a ‘I want to date you’ way, which I know you don’t exactly fuck with, but, y’know, I can’t help it. Fuck, it feels good to tell you, but I have to tell you, I’m fucking mortified right now because I’m pretty sure I’m just digging myself a deeper grave.”

“(Name)… I…”

“And you don’t have to do anything with that knowledge. You probably have people telling you that all the time, so I just thought I’d toss my two cents while I’m here because it’s good to be honest, right? We promised to be honest. I’m not feeding your ego again after this so you might as well take this while you can,” you ramble, that smile digging deeper and deeper into your lips. He watches you with a sympathy that makes you hate everything as he lifts a hand to cradle your face. You recoil, turning your head away but he grasps your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What?”

“Can I tell you a secret, (Name)?” he asks softly, and his thumb stretches up to rest just underneath the swell of your bottom lip. He regards you in a way that makes you shatter, and when he smiles, you think that a rotten part of you that died five years ago breathes to life—swells with blood, oxygen, knits together unnaturally to the side of you like a tumour. But it’s just you. It’s just your heart. “I tell every person that they’re not my type to let them down as gently as I can.”

A beat. “That’s not gentle,” you point out, strangled, and he hums.

“I know. I… it’s the best way I can put it. It’s rarely ever because of them, though.” As if that excuses it. At your silence, Suguru explains himself with a quiet tint of shame: “It’s… just I couldn’t think of someone who could change my mind on relationships, and there was all these people wanting something I couldn’t give them. I never wanted to date because it never felt like it would be worth it to open up to someone, y’know, and then break up with them and start over. There wasn’t anyone I wanted to get to know like that again. It was just a waste of effort.”

“Suguru…”

“I know. There has to be some deep-rooted fucking psychological problem with me because who thinks about the end before it begins, right? I never want to miss anyone ever again.” He chuckles mirthlessly and your brow furrows, your frown grows. “Then at the party, the idea that Nanami could have you drove me fucking crazy.”

“We don’t have to go over this again,” you tell him hastily. “I was just joking about it.”

“No. We do, because I don’t want to lose you to someone else more than I don’t want to miss you.” He strokes your bottom lip, and his face softens. In the sunlight, his eyes are clear brown, as if you’re seeing through crystals, and you reach up shakily to touch his cheek. He smiles as soon as your fingers brush his skin. “I was lying when I said it would be lame to care about it. It’s not. It’s actually so fucking not lame that I feel… I don’t know. I don’t want any other person looking at you, or talking to you the way I want to talk to you, but I was afraid you’d freak out if I told you, but I can’t not tell you when I get so irrational about it because I fucking like you.”

You inhale sharply. No. This has to be a joke. “You do?”

He nods. “I do. I’ll swear to whatever you want me to swear on that I do.”

“Y-you… you don’t have to do all of that,” you murmur, and he chuckles, touching your face everywhere, looking at your eyes, your nose, your brow where sunlight is dancing across your skin. He carefully pulls your glassess off, tucking them into his sweatpants pocket, and his fingers dust over your eyelids. Cupping your jaw, Suguru hums, amused, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. One of them is still on his cheek, the other over his shoulder, and although the silence swallows them, you think your world has stopped.

Getou Suguru likes you.

Getou Suguru likes you back.

This hasn’t all been for nothing. Your heart tripping in your chest, you try to figure out if he’s lying or if he’s joking so he can try to scam you for sympathy points, but as soon as you think it, a pulse of disgust rises up in defense of the boy. 

Suguru would never hurt you on purpose. Not like this. He knows. He has just as much on the line as you.

“Can I have my glasses back?” you demand quietly, and he laughs.

“You’re so beautiful.” His breath kisses your skin, and your lips part before you remember yourself, pressing your mouth into a thin line and swallowing hard. “So… so beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

“‘M not,” he mumbles. “I wanna kiss you so badly. You drive me crazy, but I always feel like I’m finally a little bit more sane when I’m around you.” Your shoulders sink and he pulls away just to stare at your face. His thumb touches your under-eye, and he sighs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you haul him into a hug, one he accepts fully with his arms encircling your waist. “I haven’t felt sane in a long, long time.”

“Suguru…”

“I need to tell you something, (Name),” he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist. His heat seeps into your body—he’s wearing a freshly washed shirt, and he smells like his cologne and a hint of sweat. Every inch of him is soft, pliant, and when he tucks his head into your shoulder, silky strands of his hair fall through the crevices of your hand when you card your fingers through. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I need to tell you something, too,” you whisper. 

“Okay. Okay.” He withdraws, and holds your face in his hands, before smiling. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but his effort shines through the dimple that pokes his cheek, and you touch it. You’d never noticed he had dimples before. “You tell me first.”

.

You sit against the wall underneath the barre. That’s where Suguru finds you when he returns with drinks from the nearest café on campus. Handing you a matcha latte, he grins at your glasses back on your face, and he reaches down to fiddle with them. You smack his hand, scowling, and he chuckles, sitting down beside you.

“How much was it?”

“I dunno why you even try, baby,” he says around a sip of his own coffee, and you roll your eyes, crossing an arm over your stomach and taking a stubborn taste of your own drink. Your lips twitch into a faint pleased smile, before you set it down beside you and look over at him. “So… we got drinks. Do you wanna talk about it or do you want a little more time?”

“No. I had time to think about how I wanted to say it,” you mutter, although you won’t look at him. He frowns around his drink. A part of him is secretly dreading what you’re about to tell him. It’s hard to decipher, especially when after that whole sunlight dance, you had detached yourself so robotically, and asked him to give you some time alone to organize your thoughts. Suguru can’t read your every thought, even though he likes to flatter himself with thinking he can read you better than most people, so he sits there, nursing his drink as you pull your knees to your chest, resting your chin on your knees.

“There was a guy in high school. He was my… first everything, I guess,” you utter at length. “He was sort of everything I wasn’t. I was a band kid, y’know, choir. Smart-ish. He was kind of like the bad boy. But popular, and it was sort of annoying because I didn’t really get it. He had all these girls trying to ask him out, but he was mean to them, so why the fuck would they want him?” A hint of a laugh makes his heart ache. You sound so nostalgic, so young, then. “But… then we became desk mates. It’s stupid, but I liked him because he wasn’t ever mean to me and I felt special. He was a bit rude, but he wouldn’t insult me over stuff I was insecure about, and he was really patient when I was dealing with things. We were friends, sort of. I guess. Friend circles didn’t mix, but we shared classes.”

Suguru thinks he has an idea of where it’s going as you unfold yourself, crossing your legs and leaning back against the wall. You stare at some far off distant point in the floor, but he only has eyes on you.

“I liked him a lot in my second year of middle school, but then nothing ever happened, and we drifted apart. I guess we were just too different, but there’s that feeling, I don’t know if you ever… but it’s like when you have these people in your life, and you look at them, and you think, ‘oh, I could fall in love with you so easily if I had the chance.’ He was like that person for me. I thought if I ever tried even a little, I could really like him again, and maybe I just never stopped liking him, because I wasn’t really interested in anyone else besides him.”

“Did anything ever come out of it?” he asks softly.

You nod, swallowing. A bitterness curves your lip. “In my second year of high school, we somehow… I don’t even remember how anymore. It just happened we reconnected somehow, and we decided to hang out, just the two of us. I feel like it was me who initiated it, because I feel so stupid about it.” Wistful: “It was winter. Not snowy. It was just beginning to melt, actually, and I thought we were just friends just going out for lunch. I thought… I thought he wanted to hang out with me because we were friends.”

His heart drops. A premonition of dread begins to grow darker and sharper in the back of his mind. “(Name), you don’t have to—“

“He invited me back to his house,” you whisper, trembling. “And we were just watching some show that we were talking about earlier. I don’t know how it happened. I just kept saying yes because I wanted to, I really did, and I thought he liked me. That he had sex with me because…” You cannot continue the sentence. Instead, you inhale sharply, and let out an agonizing exhale. “When he dropped me off at my house after, he texted me that he loved spending time with me, but he didn’t have feelings for me and that he just wanted to be honest so I didn’t get hurt further down the road. Isn’t that funny? It makes me laugh because I had to sit there, holding onto my phone, and pretend that my heart wasn’t breaking reading his texts. When he said he cared about me, but he didn’t want a relationship with me because we wouldn’t work out in the long run, he could see it, and that all we did… that all of that was pretty much… nothing to him. Man, I felt so.... so disgusting and used.” 

Raging anger shoots through his system as you shake your head and let out a quivering breath. “It hurts so much, in here.” A hand against your heart. Your eyes are closed, head tilted against the wall, and your lips are pulled into a grimace as if you’re holding back tears. Suguru’s entire body feels hollow as he watches your face scrunch up at the memory. “Why did he do that if he always knew he didn’t want to be with me?” You don’t wait for or want his answer. “And the worst thing is… I can’t ever bring myself to hate him. I can’t. I fell in love with him over the course of that day, and I… it’s so hard to get over someone you never even dated, Suguru, you have no fucking idea.”

A beat of silence. You inhale deeply, lifting your head from the wall to look at him blankly, and it clicks. The way you tried so hard to avoid his touch, your aversion for a relationship. You had given yourself to someone before, and they had discarded you like nothing.

“Something must have happened between him dropping him off at my house, and driving back to his own,” you continue with such a strong conviction that it makes Suguru’s heart ache. “Maki thinks he was just a fucking douchebag, but none of my friends knew him like I did. It’s been five years, and sometimes I think I can’t move on, but then I met you, and…”

“Do you still love him?” he asks tentatively, and your smile grows fonder, your eyes fall to half-mast as you regard him in that way of yours that makes him feel like he’s the only thing you see. Suguru looks down between them, his mind a swirl.

He already knows what he’s decided: he can’t tell you. He can’t tell you the truth. Not after this. Shoko can kill him for all he cares, but if she knew what he knew, she would fucking understand.

“When I first started liking you, I was so afraid that everything that happened with him would happen to me again, but you make me feel willing to try.” Your fingers stretch to touch his hand, and he takes hold of you immediately. “I’m telling you because it’s important, and I want to explain everything. Why I can’t move fast—why this is a really big deal for me. Suguru, please, look at me.” He sets down his latte and does so. “It still affects me. It still scares me, but I want to try. Do you… do you want to try?”

You’re so beautiful. Tentative with your heart in his hands, but open. You want to give him everything. You want him, and Suguru is a selfish boy with a liar’s tongue. He can’t hurt you now. Everything he wanted to tell you, the courage he’d been building up since he asked you out last night, crumbles to ash.

Because to say Getou Suguru is not a lover is not entirely true. He wants love. He needs it. But he is not built for love—not designed to be a capsule for it where it can age and ripen and grow into something warmer and hearty and healthier. He is a sieve. Everything will fall through no matter how fine, how big, a particle is, and he can do nothing but watch.

And you want to love him, but he remembers Riko, and Nanami, and now there is another figure in the corner of his eye that looks like a stranger, and you are in front of him, surrounded by all this shadow, untouched, pure in the light. You are the sun, unmarked by the noxious miasma that fogs his brain. 

His throat tightens. 

Riko’s youthful face is just like he remembers, flickering by your shoulder and smilling, completely unaware of anything happening as she speaks to someone. He hasn’t seen a mirage of her in so long. Not since she died. He used to see hints of her in the halls of the school, wisps of someone who used to be alive, and knows this is just a residual memory playing in his mind. 

An everlasting reminder.

But you would’ve liked her, he thinks. You are both too sunshine-like to not get along.

Because you are the sun. Hidden behind a cloudy, stormy exterior, Suguru has never seen someone shine quite so brightly as you when you finally let him in.

“Suguru,” you whisper presently, reaching to touch his face, and he blinks, head jerking to you. When had he even drifted away? “Are you still there?” Your fingers touch his cheek. “You look a little… lost.”

“I want us to work,” he insists, and his eyes close. “Sorry. I just was thinking…”

“You’re here,” you tell him softly. “And I’m here, if you want me to be.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” you repeat, and he lets out a soft sigh, opening his eyes. “Let’s get up, and find something to eat.”

“I’m sorry. I’m all distracted when you told me all this stuff. I promise, it’s not because it’s not important, it’s because—“

“You’re thinking about Riko, aren’t you,” you murmur, and his eyes flash to you. “I can tell.”

“You can?”

“Relationships are a big commitment, and you’re… you’re sort of scared of commitment, Suguru. Dunno if you can tell,” you murmur, voice edging on teasing. It diffuses the heat inside him, and he slouches as you chuckle, coming closer. He lets you, fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold your hand against his face. Kissing the palm of your hand, he closes his eyes. “Could be because of her.”

“It probably is.”

“I mean, I’m not a psychiatrist, so…” you drawl playfully, and he lifts his head again, glaring at you in faux irritation. You smirk. “What?”

“You’re too smart.”

“Why else would you like me?”

“Do you want me to whip out my notes, again?” he asks, pulling away, and you scoff. “I can do it. I’m gonna do it.”

“Do not—“

“I’m getting up to do it.” Pushing himself to his feet, he begins to walk back to where he left his phone and you call his name, annoyed. He doesn’t listen though, content to walk like there’s a breeze beneath his feet. He just about reaches the table when something grabs his hand, pulling him backwards. His muscles contract, hauling you close as he turns around, and he catches you before they can knock heads.

“I don’t wanna hear about your weird lists,” you snap, eyes narrowed, but you don’t try to escape, and he chuckles, leaning in closer and rubbing the tip of his nose against yours teasingly.

“Why not, baby?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you mumble, turning your face away. He lifts a hand from your bicep to tilt your face back towards him, and he leans in close. “Stop,” you whine. “You make me feel so stupid.”

“What’s so embarrassing about me having feelings for you?” he utters softly, and you inhale, shivering in his hold. “Should’ve known as soon as I made a list of all the things I knew about you in my notes app that I was a goner.” 

Your eyes meet his, and he’s struck by the glow in your eyes. It’s not something physics can explain. Something more innate than science ignites Suguru from head to toe and he feels like he’s been ushered into a warm room after nights spent out in the winter night. 

You swallow, lips parting to speak, but he rushes to cut you off: to say you’re beautiful, you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever fucking known. But what comes out instead is: “Shit.”

You frown. “What is it?”

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to formulate a sentence, before settling on a nod, your breathy ‘yes’ just barely reaching his ears.

Suguru lifts his hand to remove your glasses, setting them blindly on the surface behind them. He cannot take his eyes off you. The sunlight is just barely hitting your face, giving your skin a warm glow despite the coming winter.

And there’s that tiny little frown again, the one he adores so much. He needs to kiss that pouty mouth or he thinks he’ll starve.

Suguru kisses you, and his entire body cannot help but meld into yours. He pulls you even closer until you���re flush against him, his hands immediately cupping your jaw as soon as he feels your body against his. Your fingers wrap around his wrists gently, your mouth parting, and he feels your gasp in his body as his tongue tentatively slips against yours, warm and soft and velvety. 

You let out a soft keening noise, and a hot surge pulses through Suguru’s core, but he suppresses the desire and pulls back. Sucking in a deep breath, he returns with lingering, but chaste kisses, and your fingers dig into his wrists tightly as you push up against him, almost chasing him. It makes him grin against your mouth, and he draws back fully, thumb brushing the swell of your lip.

Your eyes open slowly, dreamily. You look so happy that Suguru wants to eternalize this moment. He doesn’t want to let another thing hurt you in this life, in this world. Not when he’s still here by your side. He wants to swear it, but he can’t, and all of a sudden, his heart cramps in his chest so intensely it’s like it’s reminding him that it’s still here, and still beating, still alive. 

He’s been here before, or something that looks enough like it. His mind reeling, his eyebrows knit together as he thinks back to earlier this week, to when he had said he couldn’t be your boyfriend. All the events leading up to that moment, even the positions their bodies had been in as he said it, are unclear blobs of colour vaguely resembling their costumes, but when you shift your body, his stomach tightens and he sucks in a soft breath.

They’ve been here before. Arms around each other, eyes shining with all the adoration a human being can possible encompass. Your legs wet against his from the hot tub. Your mouth burning from the alcohol as you kissed him senseless. His hands on your body, the sneaking glances when they’d returned, concealed by drunk giggles.

You burrowing into his hoodie as you fell deeper asleep on Satoru’s couch, relaxed and at peace in the remnants of their party.

Did you have feelings for him then? How far back did they go? Do they go as far as he’s willing to acknowledge his own? Or did they come closer to today, where they stand now, body to body, nose to nose. He wants to know. He wants to know everything. 

“Suguru? What is it?” you whisper presently, derailing his thought train. Their illusion is slowly breaking, and the golden bubble is rapidly disappearing as you frown. Suguru meets your eyes tenderly. Oh, you are the most precious thing, and he is weak at the knees.

“You’ve kissed me before,” he informs, scarcely audible. You flinch away from him, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, squeezing reassuringly. “I’m not mad. I’m just—“

“I thought you didn’t remember.” Horrified, you duck your head. “Shit. I—I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t mean anything. I… I thought you didn’t remember.”

“I didn’t. I just remembered.” Then, testing: “Do you remember anything?”

Your shoulders sink and you shake your head. A swell of relief tides in Suguru despite the guilt prickling in his gut. So you don’t remember what he said. That’s good. It’s simpler if you don’t remember stupid things he’s said.

Don’t get him wrong. He was honest with you back then when he said he couldn’t be your boyfriend, but that had been drunk thoughts, insecurity, and the secret of it all threatening to spill out of his chest. He couldn’t wasn’t the same as he shouldn’t or he wouldn’t. 

You regard him warily. “Are we okay?” 

Suguru blinks, and there’s that distinct feeling from his youth growing up side by side with someone like Satoru; that feeling of not being quite able to catch up. Mouth dry, he affirms, “Of course. I just wish you told me. Then, I wouldn’t have had to waste this week trying to figure shit out.”

“Yeah, well, I was scared it didn’t really matter to you. It was just a kiss, after all, and I didn’t want to ruin something over a thing I might’ve blown out of proportion when you probably didn’t care, so I… I don’t know. Y’know, I take that stuff kinda seriously.”

“Well, it wasn’t just a kiss to me,” he says. “You kissed me. The girl I like kissed me. I would’ve been fucking elated if I remembered.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. And then, maybe today wouldn’t have been an elaborate, subtle, kind of vague ploy to get you to go out with me, and we could actually be going out for real right now.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Was this supposed to be a romantic date?” you ask curiously, and heat rises to his face as you carefully wrap your arms around his neck. He puts on a smile and shrugs carelessly. “Stupid.”

“Have you been on better dates?”

“Considering what I just told you, no. So, granted, you’re winning so far,” you tease. He opens his mouth to apologize, but you shake your head. “I get to make fun of it. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. Five years, and I’m getting over it. Enough to like your sorry ass.”

“Well, sorry you fell for my good looks, charisma, and natural talent for everything.” You shove him away, scoffing, and he laughs, grabbing your hand again, and squeezing it. “C’mon. Something to eat, right?”

“You’re driving us somewhere, then.”

“Demanding me of something already and we’re not even five minutes into this relationship,” he jokes. Your gaze darts to him warily, and you cross your arms over your chest. He catches the shift, and he straightens up, smile shrinking. “What is it?”

“That’s what this is?” you ask quietly. Your fingers dig into your own biceps as you look away. “A relationship?”

He frowns, hesitantly asking, “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I… I do want it,” you admit, “but now that it might happen, I don’t know if I can do it. If I can just go out in public and say, hey, I’m dating the guy everyone wants to date. That’s just not me.”

“We don’t have to make a big announcement out of everything. We can just… see how it goes, can’t we? Play it safe and slow,” he murmurs, but you shake your head, looking doubtfully at the space between their bodies. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s really no big deal to me how you wanna go about this. I really do like you, and if you want to date, fine, if not… that’s fine, too.”

You deliberate this for a moment.

Then: “I’m just gonna this first before we go further that you’re not gonna fuck me.”

His body goes stiff. Not from disappointment, but just by the sheer amount of ice in your tone. “What?”

You turn to pick up your glasses from behind you. “We’re not having sex or anything today. If that’s what you’re looking for, tough luck.” You slide them on, trying to move past him, but he grabs your elbows insistently, keeping you rooted before him. You try to fight it at first, begrudging attempts at trying to rip yourself away, but Suguru is stronger. When you finally don’t try to run, he lifts an index finger to your chin, guiding your gaze back to him, and your face contorts, anguished and cracking apart at the seams. 

“Don’t ever think that. I’m not here just so I can have sex with you, (Name).”

“I know it’s out of left-field but most guys expect that, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but I don’t,” he insists firmly, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. He knows he’s not annoyed at you and he doesn’t want you to mistake it that way. He’s pissed that you think like that, sure, but you have every reason. Fuck, if he could just… somehow heal that part of you, he’d give anything, but you’d hate his pity. Gentler, he adds: “I don’t like you just because I think I can sleep with you,” he says, appalled. “Do you trust me?”

“I do. I do trust you, I just I can’t…. I can’t put myself there without feeling gross, Suguru, and a relationship normally progresses that way, and I don’t know if I can do it now, or soon, or whatever your timeline is, so please, don’t ask that of me.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, as sincere as he can be. “I don’t need that kind of stuff. As long as you’re comfortable with everything we have going on, I’m happy, okay? And if you want to sleep with me, okay, if you don’t, all good. I like you, (Name). I always have. That’s not gonna change just because I can’t do something as trivial as sex.”

“I wish it was that easy for me,” you mutter, but he shakes his head.

“I like that you take this stuff seriously. I think it’s admirable, and romantic, and I like that about you,” he murmurs. “Believe me, it just inspires me to woo you even more.”

“Woo me?” you echo, sarcasm inked into your words, but your tone lightens. Suguru’s heart lifts, too. “How are you going to go about that?”

“Well, first,” he drawls, tilting his head to press a kiss against your cheek, “I take you out to dinner.” A kiss to your other cheek. “And then I take you to the beach.” Your eyes meet his, and he grins. “Hopefully there are fireworks.”

“So, it’d have to be a special occasion.”

“Mmm, and we could dance on the beach.”

“That sounds nice, actually.”

“You could lead me, too, and dip me over your leg to kiss me,” he suggests much to your dismayed expression, and he chuckles. “Just kidding.” He sneaks a peck, one that has your eyes closing, and you swallow, letting out a long exhale. 

When your eyes open again, they’re filled with a renewed vigour. 

“Suguru, you’re really sure about this? Boyfriend, and all?”

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t still be here. Believe me.”

You bite your lip and nod. “I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me.” Stepping back, he extends a hand towards you, fingers outstretched, and when your hand slips into his, it has never felt more like two puzzle pieces finally finding one another. 

You run to catch up to him, and your face is cupped by his free hand briefly, his lips seeking your forehead. You pause, feeling his lips brush down your temple, and your cheek pulls. He can feel your smile against his lips as he finally touches your lips with his own in a soft, lingering kiss.

Three words threaten to push against his tongue, but he pulls away, surprised at the urge to blurt out something he’s not even sure exists, so he simply settles on kissing your forehead again and pulling away.

“I can keep calling you baby, right?” he checks, and your nose wrinkles as you laugh, shoving his face away.

“All that, and that’s what you want to ask me?” A beat. “Yes, you can, baby.” You grab his chin, kissing his jaw, before letting go of his hand to gather your things.

“Well, I might wanna try other names.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Honey. Dear. Sweetheart. Flower.”

“I like baby, I think.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah. I’m just used to it.”

“Okay.”

You hoist the bag ont your shoulder. Suguru grabs his bag, too, grabbing everything he needs. Thoughtfully: “Flower is a strong contender.”

An idea springs forth, and he glances over his shoulder. “How about sunshine?” You’re adjusting your glasses, but you’re hiding a smile behind your hand as you meet his gaze. He thinks on it. “Sunbeam.”

“That doesn’t suit me.”

“Yes, it does. Go argue with a wall.” You walk up to him, and a faint smile graces his lips as he catches your phone camera sneaking a picture of him. Quirking an eyebrow, he leans over to see what you’re doing, but you turn away. Suguru peers over your shoulder, and a heat blooms from his chest when he realizes you’re changing his profile picture.

“You just changed it a few days ago,” he points out as you adjust the position of the picture. You look up at him, and he shimmies closer to watch you save the image. It’s slightly blurry, but it looks distinctly charming. Maybe because you took it. Resting an arm across your shoulders, he presses his nose against your temple. “Sunbeam.”

“Yeah?’ you mumble, distracted. You’re swiping through notifications on your phone, now, and he averts his gaze, focusing on leading you to the door. His hand slips into your free hand, and you finally look up when he closes the door behind you. Flattening your bag strap, you rub at your face. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“’S long as I’m still your boyfriend,” he says, and the word settles so easily on his tongue he wants to say it again. Announce it to the whole world. He’s a boyfriend now. Getou Suguru is a boyfriend. 

He doesn’t think it would’ve ever sat right if he was someone else’s boyfriend—anyone else’s but yours. Because you roll your eyes, and you try to pretend it’s not a big deal to you and say something about how Maki’s going to hate his guts, but when they walk to his car and you climb into his passenger seat, you shyly press a kiss to his mouth before he pulls out of the lot, and sneak your fingers between his on the centre console.

There’s a soft melody playing from one of his CDs you picked. 

He squeezes your hand as he passes an intersection. You squeeze back, looking out the window, but in the reflection of the glass, he can see the curve of your smile.

a/n: thanks for sticking around and reading all the way to the end! please leave a reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

tags: @thelameless @lucyrocks86​ @kentospet @id-rather-be-an-outsider​  @ys2800​ @tuzuis4thwife @pidwidge​ @xbookmanx​ @kaitlyn2907​ @butterfly-skinnylegend​ @rumi-rants​ @bloombb​ @mykyoon​ @waterlily502​ @hanabihwa​

[murdleandmarot]

9, 8, 2, 20 :3

Sorry this took a while to get to 😭😭😭 I was making unwise financial decisions in a book store

Hi hello!!!!!!!

2. Favorite Song Character: This is SO HARDDDD UGGHHH…..I love them all so much grrrrrr

I’m gonna narrow this down for myself to songs ABOUT a character, and then go from there, because I could argue with myself about this for hours. Because while Macavity slaps, Macavity would slap. Me. In the face. With his claws.

I’m gonna have to be a lil basic and go with Mistoffelees :). I just….love him lots…..and Tugger is always so fucking excited to sing about his special guy…..

8. Favorite Make-up: Oooo good question……I have a couple favorites (that aren’t from 1998 because let’s be honest I could rant about 1998 makeup forever (even though it’s the most subdued)).

Off of the top of my head, Tugger from Hamburg 1991, Jellylorum from Macskák 2001 I believe? (I think it’s Hungary, either in 2000 or 2001), Skimble and Misto from Mexico’s tours in 2013, Macavity from Buenos Aires and Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer from what I THINK is a Canadian tour.

I’ll put pictures of all these guys under the cut, I ADORE the makeup in these shows, and there are a ton more that I didn’t bring up.

9. Favorite song?: Another hard fucking question 😭😭😭 why would you do this to bestie. I don’t think I can pick a favorite, (the only song I actively am not the biggest fan of is journey to the Heavyside layer, and I STILL cry during it).

I think the song I listen to most as an actual SONG, like in my playlist along with fuckin Mitski or Aurora would have to be The Rum Tum Tugger? It’s just easily digestible, a very vibe worthy song, whereas other fun songs like Macavity are very much a moment, yk? (Shoutout to mungo and rumple, because Ive looped their song for weeks at a time (the German version vibes so hard it’s so good)).

20. Did you see cats live? If so, where?:

I fucking DID and I am mad about it TO THIS DAY. I’m SO mad. I’m not gonna reveal the location because that would be very not good and Internet safe™️, but it was at a theater that housed tours of shows, which means I also got to see Jesus Christ Superstar, Hadestown, Hamilton, the like. Thank god my father is a huge theater nerd.

Anyhow, I saw Cats when I was 13, and I remember loving it, and that I picked up on Misto and Tugger immediately.

And that is ALL I remember. WHY? Because not only was I 13, I was coming down from being an Uber-depressed 12 year old, which means there is a year and a half of my life that is almost ENTIRELY gone. Literally could not have picked a worse time to go to see Cats. Every time I’m reminded that I saw Cats live and literally don’t remember it, I throw myself upon the floor in despair.

Makeup stuff under the cut :))

Tugger, Hamburg 1991, Siegmar Tonk, though you won’t find him on the fandom wiki, even though he’s gorgeous and great, because he’s a swing

(Best quality photos, I could take from the beginning of Mistoffelees :)

So, the production on YouTube with the Jellylorum I’m talking about is named ‘Macskák musical 1. felvonás,’ and has a description in what I think is Hungarian? It says it’s from 2001, and was most likely performed in Budapest, Hungary. I can’t find any gallery images on the wiki, or a record of this production, or who plays THIS version of Jelly, or even if that’s her name in this version. Anyhow, this is she

She looks like a lil clown :)) a lil jester. Also why is there a random guy here??? Because in this production they just bring in Hungarian celebrities randomly and it’s especially funny during Skimbleshanks’s numbers because the guy turns up in a suit, and eventually gets more disheveled as the song goes on. Skimbleshanks and him COMMIT though.

Skimbleshanks, Luigi Vidal, Mexico 2013 and Mistoffelees, Orville Alvarado, also Mexico 2013

(Shoutout to Mexico 2013-2015 in general, it just looks rly cool)

Macavity, Diego Jaraz, Buenos Aires 1993

SIR MARRY ME 🫶🫶🫶❤️❤️❤️💍💍💍

Mungojerrie und Rumpleteazer, Canada, actors and time unknown to me 💔(I know SOMEONE literally told me because I ASKED but I don’t REMEMBER mutual if you recognize these guys PLEASE tell me)

@jennyanypenny I THINK IT WAS YOU PLEASE LMK IF YOU KNOW WHO THESE TWO ARE

(honorable mention to ‘98 Pouncival n Macavity)

[whumpster-fire]

25 Exciting Phrases to Spice Up Your Next Business e-Mail

1: "Dear Motherfucker,"

2: "To whom it may concern, as well as the entire company directory who I am cc'ing because none of you care about my time so I don't care about yours,"

3: If you'd like to know why I am sending this e-mail, please consider reading it for fucking once."

4: "If I do not see conclusive evidence of your head being out of your ass in the next 3-5 business days, I will remove it from your shoulders."

5: "Please attach a current headshot and resume: the latter so I can laugh at your alleged qualifications, the former so I can print it out and put it on a dartboard as advised by HR's Anger Management Seminar"

6: "Due to the considerable destructive forces at my command,"

7: "Cc'ing The Pope on this one to keep him in the loop since the magnitude of this clusterfuck is nothing short of Biblical,"

8: "This is the fourth e-mail I have sent asking you to do your goddamn job. The fifth will be attached to a brick hurled through your office window. You do not want to know what the sixth will be, so get your shit together ASAP please."

9: "Please keep in mind that refraining from inappropriate use of the Reply All button is the only thing separating us from descending into complete Lord Of the Flies anarchy."

10: "All, please review the selection of Dilbert cartoons attached below and reflect on how they might be relevant to the current situation and your role in it."

11: "The Carpool Committee has unanimously voted to play exclusively Alvin And the Chipmunks songs in any vehicle you are a passenger in for a month the next time you schedule a mandatory meeting before 8 AM."

12: "The potted Ficus tree by the 4th Floor break room will be taking the lead on this project from this point on since it is more qualified than any of you."

13: "I didn't think I needed to inform everyone that 'accidentally' stapling your balls to get out of Company Spirit Meetings early is against company policy. However,"

14: "Due to recent events, any personal office supplies brought from home, e.g. paperweights, must now be checked with a Geiger counter."

15: "Please be advised that if you reply with a question that indicates you have not read and understood the list of action items below in its entirety, I will kick you in the teeth so hard you will chew with your appendix in the future."

16: "We regret to announce that Sean is now an outlaw and no longer protected by our Workplace Violence Policy. This decision was not made lightly, but the current situation re: the break room microwaves has forced our hand. Cc'ing Sean to keep him in the loop."

17: "Please keep in mind that you are neither the most profitable nor the most important of our clients, and your disproportionate share of billable hours is due primarily to your whininess, entitled attitude, and inability to give a straight answer."

18: "If you feel the need to contact me outside my scheduled hours, please write your issue on a piece of letter sized paper, then roll it up, seal it inside a glass bottle, and cast it into the ocean. This will get a faster response than emailing, calling, or texting me at 1 in the fucking morning."

19: "Team, As a result of employees being bombarded with hundreds of e-mails after inadvertently hitting reply all, we are now instituting the following change to our e-mail communication policy: to help prevent duplicate corrections, when admonishing a coworker who you feel has used Reply All inappropriately, please make sure to use Reply All as well so the other recipients can see that the responsible party has already been notified of their mistake."

20: "Cc'ing you on every e-mail about this issue due to your record of not giving a shit about a problem unless your time is being wasted."

21: "Please do not disturb the protective circle of salt around the 2nd fridge from the left in the break room, and do not under any circumstances open it without appropriate PPE and an escort from an old priest and a young priest."

22: "After consulting with Legal and HR, we have determined that the ficus tree by the 4th floor break room dispersing pollen into the office environment does not constitute a violation of our sexual harassment policy. Also, please be advised that the ficus tree is female and is not the source of your pollen allergies. No disciplinary action will be taken against it. However, your repeated complaints targeted at the ficus tree based on its status as a plant may constitute a hostile work environment. Please meet with HR ASAP to discuss this further."

23: "Team, Placing an 'Elf On the Shelf' in any location on company premises or within your home office where it may be able to see, overhear, or access proprietary information will result in disciplinary action up to and including termination of employment. Company proprietary data may not be divulged to any unauthorized third parties, and that includes Santa Claus."

24: "Cc'ing Santa Claus to keep him in the loop on this one."

25: "Sincerely, The Only Guy Who Does His Goddamn Job Around Here."

[roo-bastmoon]

It's Panic Thursday

Remember that the first week that VIBE dropped, ARMY was able to purchase 10,000 copies on the very last day of tracking. We can absolutely help ANGEL chart well this first week too, and get Jimin that new record.

Please buy the long and sped up version of Angel Pt 1 on all available stores, including the Fast X Soundtrack site, iTunes, Amazon, Qobus, and 7 Digital, then immediately download the digital files and play them for a few seconds.

If you have multiple streaming accounts, perhaps dedicate one just to focus on Angel Pt 1 today, especially on Pandora, which lets you loop and rack up streams fast.

Note that Spotify has FOUR VERSIONS you should be including 20 times each!

☆ https://spoti.fi/3MDyHu0

☆ https://spoti.fi/438vDLD

☆ https://spoti.fi/3Mb5WmM

☆ https://spoti.fi/3OpwTGf

If all you did was max out your 80 plays with back to back Angel versions, it would take you four straight hours. We know best practice is to have 1-2 songs as fillers, (Like Crazy, Planet, and Haegeum are good choices) so that means today we really gotta focus with the remaining hours in the tracking day.

While I have you here, please vote for Jimin in this cute little poll as the best choice to dub a Disney movie! The voting results will be published in a Danmee article for Japanese and Korean media, as well as about 50 companies, after June 5th.

It won't win him anything, I just think it would be nice to put his voice acting talents on the radar with various media company executives. You only have to vote once, so it's low-effort! And I just can't bare to see our boy lose. :-)

Thank you, puppykitties! FIGHTING!!!!!

[milayaprintsessa]

MUSE PLAYLIST.

bold what you use/do most often. italize what you use/do occasionally. you can also add to it!

MEDIUM. headphones. radio. walkman. ipod / mp3 player. loudspeakers / phone speakers. airpods / bluetooth earbuds. record player. concerts. musicals. festivals.

HABITS. tapping fingers. swaying. headbanging. dancing. air guitar. rock back and forth. mouthing lyrics silently. belting out the lyrics.

ACTIVITIES. at the gym. on a run. cleaning up . showering. getting ready . studying. reading. working. sleeping. shopping. leisure walk. driving. on public transport. gardening. relaxing.

1. What lyrics resonate with your muse? There are so many.. but I would go with - » I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me «

2. What song reminds your muse of their childhood? “Airplanes” by B.o.B, Hayley Williams

3. Does your muse have a preferred setting/activity for when they listen to music? Nah, I've got a playlist for everything from working to relaxing and all kind of different moods.

4. Did your muse have a crush on an artist/band growing up and if yes who were they? Luke Hemmings from 5 Seconds of Summer

5. Does your muse have a song/band that they loved growing up which they can't listen to anymore? Not really, even though I can't listen to old 5 Seconds of Summer songs anymore

6. What song(s) make(s) your muse emotional/cry? TELL ME ABOUT TOMORROW by jxdn & Atlantis by Seafret

7. What is a genre your muse absolutely can't stand? hardcore electronic

8. What is your muses favorite genre(s)? Metalcore, Alternative & Pop (talking about diverse taste)

9. What's your muses most looped song right now? “THE DRAIN” by Bad Omens, HEALTH, SWARM (judge me for being a fangirl, ok?)

10. If your muse was in a band what vibe would it have and what would they name it? I guess it would be like the love child of YONAKA and Taylor Swift? kinda alternative but with pop influences? I don't know, nobody really wants to hear me sing (or play any kind of instrument), trust me. My husband has to suffer alone through that. Naming wise? I would go for something like "The Circle" - don't ask

tagged by: @godpyre

tagging: @diamondxll, @pistolmadeofroses, @concreete-jungle, @thesoundofsiren

[the-phantom-author]

it’ll take me a while to fully digest TTPD because it’s a LOT (probably my favorite album of hers, besting reputation which says a lot because that’s always been my number one) but just a few things about popstar!gf right now.

this was an excruciatingly honest look into her brain and it seems like a lot of people can’t handle it. they think it’s too much and the general public isn’t going to really look into what her lyrics mean. it was really brave of her to put this out into the world while being at some of her lowest times and now at her highest with hasan. this album is for people who want to understand her. her true fans and a good chunk of hasanabi heads are with her and supportive.

she’s feeling really vulnerable. she had let hasan hear a few songs before it’s official release but she wanted him to experience it altogether. so when it’s officially out, they’re laying on his couch alone in the house. just the album on, for two hours they lay together and listen. hasan is immediately overwhelmed because 1. he’s proud to be with someone who is so intelligent and turns her own life and struggles into something beautiful and poetic 2. he knew a lot about the bad times she was having and continued to have while they were just friends but he didn’t really understand. listening took his understanding of her to a whole new level. 3. he’s heartbroken that any person would treat her the way she’s been treated but also has to appreciate how strong she is and she’s on the other side of that now. he assures her he hopes to never ever treat her like that. he is careful with his words, avoids saying “i’ll never” or “i’ll always” because that might feel a bit scary and like an empty promise but he’s there for her.

she’s really in her own head the next few days, just writing a lot in her journal. she’s also been on twitter which is NEVER a good thing. she knows how great the album is going, her team has been keeping her in the loop, she’s breaking records. but actual people? her seeing their own opinions and people’s think pieces, a lot of it being negative, hits her in a certain way. she tries to not focus on the negative but it’s like a little nagging feeling she can’t shake off. it’s starting to eat at her. her journal entries are going to become a bit sadder and also more idgaf what anyone thinks, i’m damn proud of this album. if people think im on the news so much, if im doing too much, fine. you won’t see me.

but the positive right now is that all of her friends and family and all of hasan’s are super proud of her and think she’s done something truly incredible. although hasan tries to get her to go on fear& she won’t, but she’s appreciative of hearing from will and qt and austin and more that they think she’s an insanely talented artist.

she’s just kind of in a weird place. she has a tour planned but of the public opinion of her is going down quickly… she’s afraid she might just cancel the whole thing. she cancels interviews and appearances. she just needs some time to be with herself and hasan, friends and family. away from the public eye. maybe she will return soon. but maybe the public will continue to come crashing down on her and force her into living completely out of view.

The way it'll take me like a month to listen through the album. But I definitely say that it's going to up in my favorites, folklore is one hell of an album.

Not only does the general public think it's too much, it's too honest, it's too intimate, it's too long, it's simply too much. They also don't like how big of a change it it from what they know of her. She is a pop princess, Red and Guts have firmly put her in that position. However TTPD, is such a departure from her previous albums that a lot of people who aren't her fans don't like. Heaven forbid a female singer have a diverse sound. And some of her "fans" only like the pop music she makes and then not getting any of it, makes them very upset.

But as you where saying, it's a very vulnerable album, and she knows it. I can see them on the couch, or even the bed, she's resting her head on his shoulder, his arm over her, as she fiddles with his rings. While they listen to it together.

This is the start of Hasan's adventures into figuring out the delicate balance of giving her all the reassurance that she needs (which is a lot), but not saying the wrong things (which is basically anything to do with the words "forever, never, and I promise).

Hasan is always on a process of gaining respect for her. He has always had a great deal of it, but the more he knows about her the more his respect grows. Like yours so talented and smart, and capable, but no one should be treated the way.

I can imagine after getting done listening to it neither really know what to say, she wants to make sure that Hasan gets the chance to take it on without her influencing his opinion in any way. And he was to make sure she knows how much he's not going to pick up their relationship, but can't quite get the wording right. He just holds her tighter.

[ogerpon]

Rules: Shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people.

Tagged by @catboyclarity THANK YOU i will always talk about music. Commentary and lyrics included because I am once again incredibly normal about music.

1.) Sleep by Slowdive - "When I see you drowning / I'll dream, dream away from you"

So apparently the version I have on my spotify is like, a reupload by a completely random user under a different name and I did not realize this was a Slowdive song until right this second. Interesting! Did not know that was allowed!

2.) Enchanting Ghost by Sufjan Stevens - "And if it pleases you to leave me, just go / Stopping you would stifle your enchanting ghost"

YEAHHH ENCHANTING GHOST!!! I was really obsessed with the All Delighted People EP a few weeks ago so I'm not surprised it's got some representation in my on repeat playlist.

3.) Two Lips - Choir Boy - "I don’t need a place to go when I give up the ghost / Tulips of the spring should grow"

Passive With Desire is a great album all around, no comments.

4.) Child I Will Hurt You - Crystal Castles - "Mercy, we abstain"

I used to be really into this album in 2013??ish. But somehow I missed this song back then, and wasn't until recently I came around to it.

5.) Big in Japan - Alphaville - "I had no illusions that I'd ever find a glimpse of / Summer's heatwave in your eyes"

This is fully because I went on a road trip with my friends and someone put this on the playlist and it was stuck in my head so I started looping it while cooking dinner one night. But really catchy song.

6.) Canine Teeth - Orchid Mantis & Fog Lake - "Tell me, what's the price of a broken dream?"

Crazy story about this one, the owner of a local record shop helped produce this album and we were totally geeking out about it together because I love both Fog Lake and Orchid Mantis.

7.) Archie, Marry Me - Alvvays - "You've expressed explicitly your contempt for matrimony"

SONG OF THE SUMMER‼️I looped this one for a good long time because it's just a satisfying listen. Those introductory lyrics are as smooth as butter.

8.) All Delighted People (Original Version) - Sufjan Stevens - "I’m not easily confused / The trouble with the storm inside us grew / But I had so much to give / In spite of all the terror and abuse"

I just KNEW something from this EP would make an appearance here again. This song is like a smaller version of Impossible Soul to me. I love the reuse of the melody from Sound of Silence, and the reinterpretation of the lyrics to be about a turbulent relationship.

9.) Leave Me Be - Choir Boy - "When we both can see / Divergence warrants no hostility"

I am once again repeating that Passive With Desire is a great album and this is my favorite song from it. It's EXTREMELY catchy you have been warned.

10.) Happy 13 - Flotation Toy Warning - "Guess we can't really choose exactly where we land / But how fast you were bound is in your own hands"

Oh man, I discovered Bluffer's Guide To The Flight Deck probably less than 48 hours ago and I'm already concerned its on my repeat. Really fun, niche album with fantastic album art (we love you seabirds).

I don't tag people usually, but if you would like to do this then please feel free to tag me back! If anyone wants more music thoughts I recently made a Rate Your Music account and there's a few things like this up there.

[mooncatmelodies]

Red Moon in Venus Album Review

Kali Uchis has recently released her third studio album, "Red Moon in Venus," which is a great start to this year's music scene. Despite being released three years after her second studio record "Sin Miedo," this album was worth the wait. Uchis's vocals and production style are reminiscent of her debut album "Isolation," and even have traits from her first mixtape "Por Vida". The album has received a lot of hype and promotion, and it certainly lives up to it.

The first stretch of the album is exceptional, beginning with a beautiful breakup song that avoids the typical angry tone. It sets the perfect tone for the rest of the album. "Worth the Wait", featuring Omar Apollo, is an incredible track that showcases the production beauty. "Love Between..." serves almost as a transitional interlude track that captures the beauty of her . "All Mine" is my favorite track on the album, with Uchis's seductive voice and pleasant instrumentals.

However, the album comes to a halt with Fantasy, one of the weaker tracks on the record. Don Toliver's feature brings the track down, and the chorus doesn't add much. "Como Te Quiero Yo" is a good track, but the dreamy mixing is becoming repetitive at this point. "Hasta Cuando" on the B-Side of the album is a breath of fresh air with its production style, and "Moral Conscience" is another standout track. "Moonlight" is addicting and showcases Uchis's best singing.

Despite these great tracks, there are some forgettable ones like "Not Too Late" and "Deserve Me". Regarding "Not Too Late," while the beginning of the track starts off strong with Kali's vocals over a gentle instrumentals, it quickly loses its momentum and becomes repetitive. The track doesn't really progress or build on the initial melody and instead feels like it's stuck in a loop, which can make it feel like it's dragging on for longer than it should.

As for "Deserve Me," it's a track that had a lot of potential with a guest feature from Summer Walker, who has proven herself to be a strong R&B artist. However, the track falls flat with a lackluster beat and uninspired vocals from Kali and Summer. It doesn't offer anything unique or interesting compared to other tracks on the album, making it one of the more forgettable songs. "Happy Now" is a decent closing track that ends the album on a good note, emphasizing the message of leaving behind toxicity and embracing happiness.

Overall, this album was, in my opinion, well worth the 3+ year wail. There were so many moments on this record where I had it on repeat for hours on end. And while there were a handful of flat moments, there were so many memorable moments that simply blew me away. I’m feeling a solid 8/10 on this album, one of my favorite albums so far.

My top 3 songs are:

1. Moonlight

2. All Mine

3. Worth the Wait (feat. Omar Apollo)

Least favorite song:

Not Too Late (interlude)

you know this is all an opinion, right?

[musicforspaandearthquake]

intro/framing 1

In the fall of 2019, a few months before the world would be remade by the coronavirus pandemic, I posted a song on youtube.

The song, "Limerance" by Yves Tumor, is made up of a short, ethereal loop that repeats with little variation for 4 minutes. For such a short phrase, the loop packs a surprisingly evocative punch. There is something both tranquilizing as well as something sad, longing, mourning, or hopeful at its center, glowing like a dying ember. But just as one is settling into the mood, a voice interrupts the reverie, talking over it, and yanking the listener out of the dream.

It's likely that this is a conscious, intentional maneuver by the artist, possibly wanting to reflexively call attention to the very spell he has so successfully cast. It's also possible there are deeper or more obscure meanings to the overlaying of the sedative instrumental with the voicings. But whatever the reasons, the spoken word portion is at a seeming cross-purposes to the lull pulling the listener in underneath it.

In October of 2019, a friend emailed me asking if I might make a version of the song in which the spoken word portion of the song is edited out, and send him the result. What he wanted was the calming, evocative instrumental without the "annoying" voices which interrupt it. He wanted the song as a work aid, sleep aid, focus aid, and simply because he thought the song beautiful. Within the hour, I'd filled his work order like a carpenter, posted the result on youtube, and sent him the result, and forgotten about it.

Hosted on the youtube server, however, the song went on to have a life of its own. Within months of its being posted, the world shut down as a result of the coronavirus pandemic, and the song started to garner first thousands, and then millions of views. In addition to these views, the song also garnered hundreds, and then thousands of comments. In the first months of the quarantine, a regular feature of my digital routine was to click open the email which was automatically generated whenever someone posted a comment on the video. The comments began as a trickle in the first few weeks of quarantine, and then, at some point in April of 2020, the video tripped some trip wire in the algorithm and the number of comments and views skyrockted. My email was suddenly deluded with messages from strangers all over the world, each sending out a message in the bottle. Many of the messages were a form of fanfiction, proposing images, places, or situations the song reminded them of. Users would trade places, real and imagined, the song evoked for them, and encourage and applaud one another for especially creative entries. Another tier of comments involved a discussion as to whether the song was a essentially a "happy" song or essentially a "depressing" or "sad" song. Users seemed essentially split, and the conversation endlessly renewed itself every time someone came to the video and claimed whether the video sounded basically happy or basically sad to them. This reminded me much of the 'laurel' or 'yanny' phenomenom, or the blue dress/orange dress phenomenon, a kind of aural illusion in which two swaths of people heard diametrically opposed things.

George x syracuse new yorker post about capturing your surroundings and remembering what it was like.

A third layer of responses were those who came to the video simply to record diary-like entries in which they detailed their emotional state, the status of their romantic lives, or shared episodes from some dimension of their emotional worlds, whether that involve conflicts with their parents, friends, teachers, crushes, partners, or whatnot. Often these diary-entries would be heartfelt reflections on what was lost in the pandemic.

Stemming from this layer of response was a troubling vein of comment: the cry for help. Not infrequently, users would post comments ranging from the cryptic to the overtly suicidal, and long threads developed about the philosophical problem of whether life ever got better or not, with factions weighing in on both sides. Such comments were so common, that the comments section of the video sometimes seemed like an ad-hoc self-help forum for the suicidal, the digital equivalent of a refuge center erected in a sport stadium during a weather emergency.

Such a range of comments wasn't necessarily unique to the video I posted. Any youtube comments section can often inspire a culture unto itself, with its set of rules, in-jokes, and references. Nor was it necessary for me to have hosted the video for me to have taken note of the kinds of comments proliferating within it. Yet there was something decidedly personal feeling about the entire experience. For one, I was the one who had gone through the trouble to edit Yves Tumor's song and post it to youtube. If I had never done this, the entire forum, the entire galaxy of comments would never have existed in the first place. Though I was invisible to the entire proceeding, I was nevertheless still the host of it, and like a greek god, I presided over the user's comments from a distance, regarding without ever intervening.

And on another level, I was interested because i was sympathetic. When I had been a teenager, i too had turned to ambient music as a source of consolation for ennui and depression. It seemed like a joke both cosmic and private that I had actually been at an existential low when I had posted the Yves Tumor song on youtube. My own history with depression, and my own history of turning to music--in particular ambient music--during my worst bouts of it gave me the feeling that I was somehow especially made to order for the role of putting this particular version of this particular song into the universe, almost as though I had been selected. By posting this ambient song, and its becoming a beacon for other depressed people, I somehow felt I was counteracting the scales of the total amount of depression in both my own life and the world in general.

But as the pandemic and quarantine pressed on, and the depressed comments continued to flood in from the world over, I started to wonder whether something less healthful was afoot. Was the video simply serving as a landing and place, healing, for the already depressed and isolated, or was it somehow contributing the very woes I hoped it was a balm for?

One source of my skepticism and paranoia was the sheer resiliance of the virality of the video itself. In a former life, I had the opportunity to serve as a tour manager for band with a national--even international--audience, and with a handful of songs that once enjoyed heavy rotation on national radio and MTV, and live on in karaoke bars today. In this guise, I was put up to posting on the band's social media feeds several times a day, and was floored by the experience of helming a social media account which was capable of commanding thousands of likes and comments in a matter of minutes. The experience also gave a taste of the fickleness of virality and the truism that nothing lasts. During the run up to the 2016 presidential elections, the lead singer of the band made a political comment during a show that made the national news cycle for precisely one day. The morning after the concert, we did interviews with several national news outlets, wrote an op-ed for Time Magazine, and went live for a night-time segment on CNN. 48 hours later, it was almost as though none of it had ever happened, so swiftly had the news moved on and forgotten all about our viral political moment.

In none of my time as a tour manager for the band did we post anything to our social media feeds which came remotely close to the enduring virality of the ambient song i posted on a random tuesday afternoon several years later--despite the fact that, as a band, we hired professional content creators and viral experts to help our content grow exponentially, while, by myself I had posted the ambient song with no expectation that anyone else would discover except for the single friend who had requested it.

Over time, the song's long-lasting virality and the sensationalist, vaguely suicidal comments in the comments section became uncomfortably linked in my mind, although in a way that I couldn't point to. As Kyle Chayka outlines in Filterworld: platforms such as youtube are famously opaque regarding what precisely determines whether a post succeeds or fails. And so I could never have any grounds for my suspicions, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that, rather than providing a beacon of comfort in the digital sphere, a kind of virtual or cyber healing place in the jungle of capitalism and social media feeds, instead what was actually happening was that the Yves Tumor song was like a piece of bait, which attracted depressed teens like moths to a flame, which the platform then preyed on for views, likes, and engagement, which it in turn sold for advertising revenue. Rather than providing a helpful product to vulnerable, isolated people in need, I was afraid I was instead selling the vulnerable and isolated as the product to a manipulative corporation which would have no qualms exacerbating their condition for more engagement. The question of who was profiting came to the fore, and the answer was clear: Youtube was profiting, even as its users were openly expressing in its margins their pain, difficulty, and sorrow. More than that, Youtube was profiting from its users pain and depression, seemingly boosting a video which contained such raw and explicit expressions of pain.

[book about the youtube comments of the harumoi hosono ambient song]

Under usual circumstances, as a "content creator," it would be in my best interest to be proud and slightly awed by the miraculous gift that a post with millions of views (almost 3 million as of this writing) represents. In the threeway transaction between the Youtube users, myself, and Youtube, I serve a function similar to a broker. I brought the users to the big boss lurking in the shadows, Youtube, and the big boss duly rewarded me for my efforts with millions of views to my credit on my channel. Such a prize is not to be underestimated. Regular traffic to a particular channel, whatever the source, can be hard to generate and ensure over a long period of time. At a house party recently in LA, a well-connected musician friend of mine showed me his youtube account where he's been posting a song at a rate of one per week. "4 views!" he exclaimed looking at his most recent post, red-cheeked from wine, in a mixture of sarcasm and something close to actual pride.

A few things, however, check my pride and excitement over the gift that a million-view video represents. First of all, the song is not my own, but someone else's, the artist Yves Tumor. Here an awkward chasm regarding the question of "whose" song it is opens up. When I posted the song, I altered it in two ways. For one, I cut the song short after around 60 seconds, when the female voice comes in and begins speaking. Second, I looped the 60 second fragment of the song 15 times, creating a 15 minute, "extended" version of the song.

On the one hand, these alterations represent substantial changes to the original song, which is only 4 minutes in length. By extending the song to 15 minutes, it loses anything which might make it dynamic. Whereas Brian Eno speaks of making his long-playing ambient sound scapes evolve over time, even in ways which might escape the conscious ear, the 15 minute loop I made of the Yves Tumor song has no dynamic or evolutionary progress whatsoever. It is simply a block of sound, identically repeated without any change for 15 minutes straight. It might be worth noting here the possible correspondence between the youtube comments which proclaim that "nothing will ever get better", "there is no hope" "everyday feels the same", and the ways in which the song performs this stasis by itself never changing, and dragging on for an interminably long period of time. Indeed, when I made the song, I simply copied and pasted the pattern an abitrary number of times without any mind to how the final product would turn out, and without any intention of listening to it myself. To this day, I've never listened to all fifteen minutes of the repeating song all the way through; I find its static, unchanging nature a bit claustrophobic. However, at the same time, I think its precisely the fact that it is 15 minutes long and never changes is a key component to its success. it might be further noted the coincidence that the song met with its virality during the coronavirus quarantine, a time in which the days themselves took on, for many, an unchanging, static quality, in which every day was the same, everything was locked in stasis, groundhog day, etc. such that the endlessly repeating nature of the song, unchanging, drifting, mirrored the endlessly repeating, ennui filled days of those locked in quarantine.

And so in one sense, the song was not exactly the same song which Yves Tumor once created, titled Limerance, but something slightly different, with a different temporal frame, a different sonic character (made more smooth and palatable without the scraping voices in the middle). At the same time, it is basically the same song. Just presented in a different framing. If the original song were a fabric, then all I did was simply cut out a large swath of it and present it to the listener in a specific way.

This ambiguity over the ownership of the song makes it difficult for me to feel any particular pride over its success.

Secondarily, its difficult to say what a million views is really worth: views and streams are like an abstract currency in a virtual world, or like the points in an online world-building video game. Yes, a million points is a lot of points, but along with many others, I'm still at a loss when it comes to figuring out how to smuggle out those virtual points into hard, U.S. currency.

*

Concerns over the relationship between digital technology, social media use, and teenage mental health are not new. But such concerns were amplified in 2020 with the pandemic. NYT articles such as X seemed to come out every few weeks. Cultural theorists from baudrillard to bifo berardi and geert lovink have decried the widespread effect on affect digital technologies might have. On the other hand, there's an equally long relationship between ambient music and the healing. What happens when the two meet: ambient music via digital technologies?

was living with my father in Modesto, CA, a medium-sized town in California's agricultural epicenter, the Central Valley.

My father had been diagnosed with dementia the year before and needed assistance with many of life's day to day tasks; he couldn't drive, keep track of his finances, cook, use a computer or phone. Depending on the day, I might drive him to a doctor's appointment, cook for him, send emails or make phone calls on his behalf. In between, I filled my time by trying to finish up my MA thesis in literature, which I'd been working on for almost a year.

Neither my father nor I were from Modesto; after a lifetime of moving every few years in the military, Modesto was another of the places my father had washed up later in life. When he'd moved, he'd known no one in the town.

Though San Francisco, where I lived, was only two hours away, Modesto felt like a world away, and I visited infrequently, sometimes forgetting for months at a time that he'd moved so close. I'd read once that there were versions of every state contained in California. If this were true, then Modesto was something like California's Kansas. In order to get there from San Francisco, I had to battle my way out of the greater ecosystem of Bay Area traffic, beyond the last BART stop in Livermore, past the giant cross of LED lights embedded in the hills, and into the Altamont hills.

Though there were many subtle changes in the topography between San Francisco and Modesto, it was the Altamont hills that served as the definitive barrier between the Bay Area and the Central Valley for me. Before the hills, in Livermore, were one last gasp of commerce and capitalism with big box stores, a movie theatre, a Target, a Whole Foods. The hills themselves were gentle and rolling and bald. In the winter and early spring, they were lush and green, a spitting image of the famous Windows desktop with nothing in view but the green hills and the blue sky. In the summer, they were scorched and parched, a dessicated brown, sometimes kissed black by recent fires. Exiting the hills on the east, one was given, briefly, a sweeping view of what constituted the beginnings of the Central Valley: a flat expanse with little to command the attention, often filled with hazy smog by day and the sodium glow of dispersed light by night. Briefly after exiting these hills, where the 210 swept into the I-5, one might pass by a racecar track on the right, which once served as the infamous site of the ill-fated Altamont Music Festival. And by this point, one would be in a squarely different world than what constituted the Bay Area. Flat in all directions, with a ridge of hills bordering the west side of the I-5, the Sierras sometimes vaguely visible through clouds and smog to the east. It smelled different; not just the vaguely bovine smell of agriculural areas everywhere, but something of the dry grasses, the oak trees, the almond groves, the pavement and parking lots of shopping centers. Driving in the other direction, back home to San Francisco after a few days in the central valley, I would always be hit with the smell of the ocean, even while esconced inside my car with the windows up, sometime just a little bit before the bay bridge, a smell I could never notice until I'd left the city for a few days.

It was also always either 20 degrees hotter in summer, or 20 degrees colder in winter than it might be in temperature Bay.

Modesto was culturally different as well. In the Mission district of San Francisco, where I lived, the McDonalds at the 24th street BART stop and the Whole Foods up the street were about the only chains stores one could find. The rest of the neighborhood was made up of pawn shops, dive bars, 3rd wave coffee places, Mexican and Salvadoranean and Chinese restaurants, and new condominiums. Modesto, meanwhile was all Little Caesars, Panda Express, and Chipotle, shopping centers planted next to shopping centers planted next to shopping centers for miles at a time on ruler-straight streets.

*

It didn't take long before my father's small rental home in Modesto came to feel claustrophobic, dust-ridden, and small, for me to begin to resent all the help my father needed without ever acknowledging it or asking for it, and for me to become fairly unhappy and unsure about my direction in life. In San Francisco I had worked as an aid at a community college for 3 years, a job I had quit in order to come to Modesto.

*

It's interesting to me that I, personally, was depressed when I posted a song on youtube that garnered so much talk, in the form of comments, about depression and suicidal ideation, almost as though my depression grew out into the digital dimension and spawned a legion, millions-strong, of like-mindedly depressed individuals.

There are several dimensions of the phenomenon that I want to examine:

firstly, I'm interested in the relationship between ambient music and healing or therapy culture, or the relationship ambient music has with healing.

i'm interested in the way that youtube as a platform might profit from, or shape or mold the teen depression on view in the comments section of the video. in what ways does such a cultural artifact create the very depression it seems to ameliorate, either via attunement, or through more nefarious factors such as algorithmic alignment, or more generally through the ubiquity of digital interaction in general?

i'm interested in the relationship the video to the times, specifically the pandemic and quarantine. ambient music as an imagined time and place, as visible in the comments which describe imaginary places the song reminds them of.

youtube as a site of shared digital creative practice, ei how i remixed someone else's song. how its there's, but not exactly; how its not exactly mine either. how youtube also games my own hopes.

list of possible reasons for ambient music's ubiquity:

--increase in industrial noise (murray schafer, soundscape, etc)

[Didion on the 99? Babitz on her trip to Bakersfield?]

pandemic and quarantine began, I posted a song on youtube. Not a song I had made, but a song by the electronic artist Yves Tumor. And not his song exactly as he had released it, but slightly modified. More specifically, I removed a section of the song which includes a sample of human voices, and extended the song from 4 minutes to 15 minutes, an endless, narcotic loop of a short, simple phrase.

The result was a piece of ambient music. The original song was also ambient, however the voices that interrupt the song in the middle were at cross-purposes with one obvious potential function of the song, and with ambient music more generally: to drift off, relax, let your mind wander.

[whatgenesis]

THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL

#🧣🎏 — “the gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice, and someone way down here loses someone dear”

"The Winner Takes It All" is a song recorded by Swedish pop group ABBA. Released as the first single from the group's seventh studio album, Super Trouper (1980), it is a ballad in the key of G-flat major, reflecting on the end of a relationship. The single's B-side was the non-album track "Elaine". The song peaked at No.1 in several countries, including the UK, where it became their eighth chart-topper.

i am not at all protective of this one, it is a classic and i love the spotlight it has. it deserves it and i love it and i’ll never get sick of it. the only downside is that there are more people that love it and fewer people that can feel it in the veins. yeah, the lyrics are clique at points, but this song is composed in a way i’ll never be able to understand. abba was possessed when they found the way to write this song. this song also ties into the story i have, what, and it’s so dramatic. it’s heartwrenching and beautiful and i could have it on loop for hours. the winner does in fact take it all and the loser does in fact have to fall. you just don’t get it!