#i promised myself i wouldn’t write any more sad poetry

[casstelli]

hometown cemeteries

There is nothing to do in my hometown.

Nothing except, of course, walking

across town to the cemetery

to sit with the ghosts.

I bid my grandfather goodbye,

calling out from across the doorway

to where he is sat on the old red sofa

watching the stock prices or the news

on his shiny, new, flat screen TV

while a young girl, maybe five or six,

whose Italian is better than mine

is curled at his side.

When I finally make it out

of that home I used to call mine

I lock the front door.

The girl follows in her bouncing steps

undoing my hard work and not bothering

to lock up after herself.

The streets are busy like they always were

but across the speeding cars I see

the girl stopped in front of the neighbors’.

She’s gazing at the cockatoos they keep

with a wonder I think I’ll never understand.

Past the river and the roundabout

she’s walking to school in her little group

in her blue uniform with its Hello Kitty patch.

She is seven now, but she does not shrink

under the weight of her new responsibilities.

I wonder how she does it.

I do not see her when I pass the school

but it is recess, and I hear her.

Her laughter floats over her friends’,

loud and clear as windchimes

as she plays in the poppy fields

which I can’t quite recall from my time.

She is twelve when I see her next

and distinctly more spectral.

I can no longer recognize her, but I know

it’s her in that group of friends

stopping for gelato at the cafe

whose owners still recognize me.

The doors to the church are open

and there she is, fourteen years old

ghostly rosary around her pale neck

receiving the Holy Eucharist.

I remember bitterly that I left before

I got my first taste of communion wine.

My mother is waiting at a bus stop

and I am annoyed like I always am,

but it is that girl that jumps into her arms,

seventeen now, studying science.

I suppose I am like her in that regard

but that glow to her is foreign to me.

So is the fact that she is fading, but.

She glances at me and I understand

that I am fading to her, as well.

I blink her out of my eyes and make a right

down the road to the cemetery.

I’ve never entertained ghost stories,

never felt my grandparents with me

when I deigned to visit their graves.

As a matter of fact,

I do not believe in much of anything.

Even then, I am far less haunted

when I make time to pray for the dead.

Or maybe the girl’s still following.

Maybe I’m just partial to the cemetery

because I’ve grown to believe

that everything should stay in its place.

[johnbazley]

Summer came on way too strong and the radio played all new songs

Ten years of 'Suburbia I've Given You All And Now I'm Nothing'

The saga of The Wonder Years, as it stands, starts in earnest not with the band’s jokey, nearly-satirical debut full-length, Get Stoked On It!, but rather with Paper Boats, or Some Poems I Wrote. Vocalist Dan Campbell’s chapbook of poetry written and released between that first album and the band’s revelatory, career-altering The Upsides, Paper Boats is out of print now and hard to find online, even if you know where to look. But one scan, widely-circulated on AbsolutePunk early in the 2010s, is signed—“I got a lot off my chest in this book. I hope it makes you feel something,” writes Campbell, his initials and three Xs below the inscription.

In the first poem, “Paper Boats (Or An Introduction to Some Poems I Wrote),” Campbell starts with a pseudo-invocation in block-text: 

My life stopped lending itself to poetry a few years ago and so I’ve manufactured my sadness in these factories that rose up all over my skin and had little neighborhoods form around them only to watch the industry fail and the buildings collapse and the neighborhood give way to violence and drug addicts. Alleyways you don’t walk down even in the broadest light of day. Yes, it must have been this way because I was absolutely sadder this past year than I ever have been before and the poetry never came.

Everything that The Wonder Years would eventually realize in their music starts here: the manufacturing of sadness into art, the alignment of the self with the suburb, the urban decay of that suburb leading to self-reflection. The casual classism of a writer whose most important identity is “suburbanite” aside, it’s here in the opening words of Paper Boats that Campbell sets out on the journey eventually evolved into The Wonder Years’ third album, Suburbia I’ve Given You All And Now I’m Nothing, which turns ten years old today.

I was sixteen years old when Suburbia released on this day in 2011, but more importantly, I was sixteen years old when Suburbia leaked a few weeks earlier, in the final throes of a brutal sophomore year of high school. I was more depressed than I ever had been, starting to realize that my bad winters and weeks spent sleepless were maybe actually a problem worth investigating. I was skipping class, failing history, asking my teachers for a bathroom break and retreating to the library or a bathroom stall to have a brief, or sometimes long, panic attack, sometimes cry for a while, then move into the next act of my school day, walk to Geometry/Trigonometry, and convince myself that none of it had ever happened. On one of those days, I made it home and downloaded the leaked Suburbia, breaking a few promises to some friends that we’d all listen to it together for the first time on the way home from the music shop in my only drivers’-license-having friend’s car, and look, I don’t want to say that things got any better once that leak made its way onto my playlist, because they didn’t. 

Suburbia didn’t save me. It made my junior year of high school a hell of a lot easier, and The Greatest Generation sure made the summer between high school and my first tragic year of college much easier to miss when it was over. But the bad times always came back. The magic of Suburbia was, for a summer, convincing me that they wouldn’t, that everything was going to be okay, that no pit was too deep to climb out of with a little dedication, that if Dan Campbell could look the listener straight in the eyes and close “Came Out Swinging” with “I spent the winter writing songs about getting better / and if I’m being honest / I’m getting there,” then I could survive any number of library panic attacks.

The brilliance of the opening one-two of Suburbia is that things don’t immediately start to improve for the speaker after “Came Out Swinging” offers some little spark of hope and honesty—instead, things get worse first, as they often do. “Woke Up Older” details the night of, and more crucially, the morning after a landmark breakup. Campbell describes the image of “a Bukowski novel on a Blacklisted LP,” a callback to The Upsides’ “Everything I Own Fits In This Backpack,” which itself contains an allusion to Charles Bukowski’s “You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense” and Philadelphia hardcore band Blacklisted’s 2008 album “Heavier Than Heaven, Lonelier Than God.” Instead of shirking the image of “how this must look,” as he does in The Upsides, Campbell acquiesces: “This time / what it looked like / was just what it proved to be.”

It’s that reluctant acceptance where Suburbia really starts. Things need to get worse before they get better. You need to accept that things need to change before they ever will. I think that’s the kernel of Suburbia that resonated hard enough with audiences to launch The Wonder Years into relative punk superstardom. Simply put, as it is in “Local Man Ruins Everything,” “it’s not about forcing happiness / it’s about not letting sadness win.” Suburbia is not an album about rebuilding, but rather what happens before rebuilding, refocusing the myopia of a depressed, angry winter into something more outward, more grateful.

That gratitude is never more apparent than in the album’s interludes and finale, odes to hometown’s specific scars and folklore, which when combined restate the title of the album back to the listener. “Suburbia” calls back to the image in “Paper Boats” of an industrial small town in decay, opening with the all-timer of a first lyric: “The bowling alley burned down / They said it was a cigarette / almost believed it / there were burns in the carpet / everyone knows that / it was for the insurance, and / this is where you pick up the bus.” “I’ve Given You All” takes the tour to Memorial Park, where Campbell tells the story of a local homeless man’s unsolved murder before pivoting to the townies drinking by train tracks, “wearing starter jackets / for teams that haven’t / existed since the ‘90s,” ending in a hardly-sung “man, I’m sorry.” 

It’s local folklore like that defines the life in the suburbs. Here in New Jersey, I could take you on a similar tour. Here’s the best coffee in town. Here’s the other coffee shop that has WiFi and will let you sit around all day and write. Here’s the street where Bruce Springsteen grew up. Here’s where I went to high school. Here’s the good Dunkin Donuts. Here’s where I saw one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey once. Here’s the bad Dunkin Donuts. Here’s where I got into a car accident when I was eighteen. I’m still afraid to drive in the rain.

Maybe knowing where the worst coffee in town is doesn’t seem like a particularly useful bit of information, but I still know it. That’s what sets me apart from the tourists who descend upon my little beach town in the summer, tripling its population between Memorial Day and Labor Day. That’s what grounds me when everything else goes wrong, through break-ups, anxiety attacks, pandemics, bouts of unemployment. I know the coffee shop to avoid. To quote “All My Friends Are In Bar Bands,” "I don’t know where I am / but I know where I came from.”

It’s clear that Campbell couldn’t see the journey back to gratitude when he sat down with a pen and jotted down the opening words of Paper Boats. That much is apparent from the closing words of “Paper Boats (Or An Introduction to Some Poems I Wrote)”:

If I could go back in time to when I wrote sad little poems, I’d punch myself right in the fucking face because it gets worse man. It gets much, much worse and the sooner we realize that, the sooner we can just start dying, and I know. I know—blahblahblah nobody gives a fuck about your broken heart, but you know something? Most days, I’m not even sure what I’m upset about.

And to be fair, just over ten years ago, when Suburbia leaked, I was misled too. I would have told you that everything changed the first time I heard that album, that Ginsburg spoken-word opening to “Came Out Swinging,” those massive drum hits that open “Woke Up Older,” that I would never be sad again because I knew now that it was simply just about not letting sadness win. But I’ve let sadness win a lot since then. I’ve let it win again and again over the past year, the worst of my life. I’ve let sadness wash over me, and I’ve spent days, weeks, months inside. But last summer, when I was more broke than I’ve ever been, more broken-down than I ever hope to be again, I kept sane by driving around town. Over the bridges between towns, along each highway, past my old high school, always stopping at the good Dunkin Donuts, past the roller-rink that burned down years ago, the old Asbury Lanes that I swore off the last time it changed hands, and here’s where you pick up the bus.

[revenantpoet]

- @RevenantPoet

Text Version:

Executioner's Paradox

It isn’t a question of if some deserve death Because there are people in this world that do To bleed dry Just as they’ve drained and gutted the world

That’s not a dilemma In fact it's pleasant To dig a knife into flesh that only causes hurt Pain Suffering That no one worth knowing will miss

But what about those who will hurt others? That don’t even know the atrocities in their future? That have no choice in the matter? That never even have a choice?

How do you handle looking at innocence At hope At kindness And know that beyond that there's a bomb Not of their own making But of time And of fate And decide there’s no redemption for them?

What do you do when the probability The inevitability of terror and death Is worse than any crime? Even though it hasn’t yet been committed?

There are people out there that are weapons Creatures of destruction beyond comprehension But they’re human At their core, they’re mundane No murderer was born a murderer, after all

When does a person No longer count as a person? When do they become their potential for destruction More than their humanity?

It begs the question Where are the lines? Why is it up to anyone to decide who lives and who dies? Why must I be the one to make that choice? Why do I have to carry the burden of a god?

And yet There's no other option Even as they beg Even as they cry Even as they plead They tell me of their lives Their families Their lovers The innocent droll of their lives Not understanding that I am cursed That I am a curse To them

It cracks the fragments left inside of me Their screams and grief stored in the gaps Constantly reminding me These are people Better people than I will ever be But because of crimes they will commit Because of the lives they may take They must die

(Which begs the question The one I hate to ask Dread to think:

If I, too, am destined to kill Do I deserve to die as well?)

I promised myself that I wouldn't create anything for any new anime until we're well into the season, especially not my silly poetry, but MAN!!! So much about this anime captures my attention and gives me so much to mull over. I ADORE this conflict in particular. It's not something weak or with exception, these people are walking bombs of mass destruction. There really isn't a choice. It makes Menou's grief and quiet sadness all the more striking. Because she has no choice, she cannot regret it, and yet... these people are all innocent. And, idk, I just think that's Neat. I didn't explore this concept as well as I wanted, I'm in a weird place atm, and I don't know what else might capture my attention to write more weird poetry on in this anime, but maybe it will? I don't know, but I'm STOKED to see where this goes and how this anime destroys me emotionally. I need to get ahold of those light novels. Thank you so, so much for checking out my weird words! I hope you're doing okay on your side of the screen! <3

[unmaskedagain]

Rock Star

I was feeling a bit of writer’s block this morning. So I went through my prompts and found this awesome one. It has a bit of angst.

  She lost her friends. The boy she was in love with broke her heart. No one in class apart from Chloe would even speak to her anymore. Lila’s lies had taken root in class, leaving Marinette in the back alone and abandoned. The worst part was that Marinette didn’t even know if she could be friends with any of her classmates again after the truth was exposed. In the effort to cling tighter to the coattails of someone who promised them the world, they had abandoned a childhood friend as if the friendship meant nothing; as if Marinette meant nothing. And as if that wasn’t enough, Akumas were getting stronger every day. Chat Noir was pushier than ever before. Most days it was all too much.

           Most days Marinette didn’t want to get out of bed. She rarely smiled anymore. She couldn’t find it in her to design. It was like the life force had been drained from her. It didn’t take long for her parents to notice. However, after weeks of trying, when it became clear that Marinette wasn’t going to talk to them and that she wasn’t getting better, they sent her to a therapist. After they managed to get her to promise to at least try.

           Dr. Vanderbilt was a kind woman with greying red hair and a Scottish accent. It took multiple sessions before Marinette started to open up about her problems at school; about feeling overwhelmed. One day after a session, the doctor gave Marinette a notebook.

“What’s this for?” Marinette asked taking the black notebook. The front of it said it had a 1000 pages.

“Whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, I want you to write.”

“Write what?”

“Whatever you want,” Vanderbilt smiled. “What you’re feeling. Poetry. Songs. Quotes you know. Write a story. Whatever helps you get what you’re feeling out, lessen the load you’re carrying a bit.”

           So Marinette did.

           It was a struggle at first. She never thought of herself as much of a writer. Then she started writing random quotes she knew. Then Marinette started writing a bit of poetry just to try to express herself in a way she could understand. However, during a particularly troublesome day, when Alya accused her of being lazy and not being a good class president, Marinette resigned her position much to the shock of the class and started writing song lyrics.

           One of the recommendation from Vanderbilt was to always stop doing things she didn’t want to do just because it made other people happy; especially if it was at harm to herself.

           The doctor made Marinette write 100 times: I will not set myself on fire to keep you warm.

           Marinette always hated being class president; the stress alone could kill a dozen elephants. She hated doing free commissions so she stopped that too. She hated doing the whole birthday celebrations, when everyone was quick to forget her that year. Or plan parties and fundraisers for trips that class made sure to make clear they didn’t want to her go to or on. So she stopped that too.

           It was freeing.

           Writing lyrics to songs were freeing. Soon she was writing them during class, lunch, after school, when there a moment of free time when helping out at the bakery.

           And Vanderbilt was right. It did help her.

           Marinette to smile a lot more. The pep in her step was back. She started hanging out with Chloe and Luka more and more. She made friends with others kids in class. She created a website and started selling custom designs.

           One Friday, after school, Marinette found herself in Jagged’s Hotel room with Chloe and Luka. Jagged had asked Marinette to bring his new concert wardrobe that he had commission from her. He had and Clara Nightingale were going on tour together.

           After Jagged had reviewed the clothes and approved them, proclaimed each outfit to be, “Rockin!”

           Marinette found herself writing a song in her notebook while Luka and Jagged discussed musical influences. Chloe and Penny discussed a potential internships.

           She was so invested in writing that she didn’t notice when the talking stopped. Or when Jagged asked her if she wanted Pizza.

           Marinette jumped back when a hand suddenly waved in her face. “Wait! What!” She looked around and saw the amused faces of Jagged, Penny, Chloe, and Luka. Even Fang had a long grin on his face.

“What’s this love?” Jagged asked pointing to her notebook. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages.”

           The bluenette blushed and tried not to hide her notebook; it would only make them more curious, “Nothing; just a notebook for ideas.” Technically that was true.

“Right on, can I see?” Jagged asked.

           Marinette instantly pulled the notebook to her chest and her blushed turned a dark red. She was not going to show a Rock Star the song she wrote. She’d rather die. “Nope! Nah ah, nothing to see here.”

           Chloe rolled her eyes, “Yes, because that’s totally what someone with nothing to hide does.” The blond looked at Penny. “She writes song lyrics. They’re pretty good.”

           Marinette glared at the blond, “Traitor.”

           Luka looked a bit curious. Jagged had a full blown grin on his face, “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew there was a rocker in you. I had just had to wait a bit, love. Come on. Let me see then! Show Uncle jagged your songs.”

           It took about twenty minutes to get Marinette to agree and then another ten to pry the notebook out of her hands. She watched with a pit in her stomach growing bigger and bigger as she watched Luka, Chloe, Jagged, and Penny flip through her notebook. Reading the lyrics that came straight from her heart.

           What if they hated them? What if they thought she had no talent? What if they thought she was a freak? What if! What If!

“This is good, mate,” Jagged suddenly said. An impressed look on his face. “These are really good.”

“Told ya,” Chloe said smugly.

           Penny nodded, “I wouldn’t mind commissioning some songs from you.”

“I’d like to jam together,” Luka said. “Maybe we can do a duet.”

           Jagged suddenly shot up, “Penny! Call the guys. We need a band! Marinette’s gonna sing for us!” He ran for his guitar.

“Marinette’s going to do what now?” Marinette shouted.

           Marinette was going to sing.

           She sat on a dark brown wooden stool, in front of Jagged’s backup band, with Jagged and Luka on guitar. Chloe and Penny watched in the background. An assistant help up a camera.

           Jagged had decided to give Marinette a rockstar makeover; well as much as she would let him. Her hair was pulled back in a faux hawk with a few curls framing her face, her makeup was flawless, her face was painted to look like she had been crying and her mascara had gotten everywhere.

           It took a while for Jagged, Luka, and she to work out the music would be good for her songs and what songs she’d use. She decided to let the four: Jagged, Penny, Luka, and Chloe decide on the best ones. Marinette was too bias, she knew.

           They had practiced. Everyone assured her she had an amazing voice but Marinette thought they were a bit biased too. They loved her too much to hurt her by saying anything mean.

“Hey fans watching!” Jagged said into the mic. “Today, I got a special guest here. My honorary niece and personal fashion designer; Marinette. She’s written some kick ass songs and agreed to prove that she’s a rockstar like her Uncle. Give her some love!”

           Marinette got up and waked to the mic.

           The drum beat started slowly. Marinette took a deep breath. The guitars and piano started.

           Marinette opened her mouth to sing,

“Someday I won't be afraid of my head

Someday I will not be chained to my bed

Someday I'll forget the day he left

But surely not today.”

           The beat picked up a bit.

           She fought not to close her eyes as she sang. Instead, she thought of why she wrote the song; all the pain, all the mess going on inside. Her blue eyes got a faraway look to them.

“One day I won't need a PhD

To sit me down and tell me what it all means

Maybe one day it'll be a breeze

But surely not today

But surely not today”

           Admitting she was in therapy was hard. Penny comforted her and admitted she went a lot too. Jagged hadn’t been happy when Chloe told the two adults just what was happening in Marinette’s class.

“Oh you don't know what sadness means

'Till you're too sad to fall asleep

One day I'll be snoozing peacefully

But surely not today

Surely not today.”

           Marinette voice carried across the room. She let herself get lost in the music. Otherwise, she’d be too panicky over the fact that she more or less admitted to being depressed.

“One day I'll swear the pain will be a blip

I'll have the hardest time recalling it

I'll be the king of misery management

But surely not today.”

           This song was a promise to herself. That she would move on. She would get better. Somehow, someway, Marinette would conquer all that she was going through and be better for it.

“One day that song won't make me cry anymore (oh no no)

One day I'll get up off the bathroom floor (hey yeah)

Oh, piece by piece I'll be restored

But surely not today (surely not)

Eh, not today”

           Marinette swayed to the music, dancing in place. The other people in the room watched, entranced by her voice.

“oh you don't know what happy means

If it's only in your dreams

I'll be acquainted with my jollities

But surely not today

Yeah, surely not today.”

           There were days when Marinette swore she forgot what it meant to be happy; questioned if she had ever been really happy. Or if she had just fooled herself into thinking she was. She knew better now. And Marinette refused to let the dark thoughts win.

“Surely not, surely, surely not

Surely not (surely not today)”

           Marinette sang that part softly. She knew she wasn’t going to get completely better right away. But she would… One day.

“One day the thought of him won't hurt the same

Won't need distractions to get through the day

I guess I hope I'm gonna be okay

'Cause I'm not today.”

           The song slowly died down. Silence filled the room. Then there were claps and cheers. Jagged’s new manager Harvey Boyd looked ready to wet his pants from excitement.

“Yes!” jagged yelled. “That’s how you do it!”

           Marinette blushed again and ran off stage as Luka readied himself to perform. Penny and Chloe both assured her that she had been amazing but Marinette couldn’t stop her heart from racing in her chest.

           Chloe helped prepare her for her next song as they watched Luka perform.

He had gotten used to being Solo since Kitty Section kicked him out the band. Luka sang a called, She will be loved. A sad melody that was fit him to a T.

“I don't mind spendin' everyday

Out on your corner in the pourin' rain

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay awhile

And she will be loved, and she will be loved”

           When he was done, once again Harvey Boyd had that hungry look on his face.

           Then Jagged performed one of his hits. After that he brought Marinette up on their makeshift stage again.

           Marinette didn’t feel any better performing the second time. She’d be singing the song Jagged chose.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

So much for my happy ending

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

So much for my happy ending

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh”

           The song was definitely more Rock than her last one. And she wrote it most about Adrien, some of it geared toward Alya and the rest of her friends.

“Let's talk this over

It's not like we're dead

Was it something I did?

Was it something you said?”

           Marinette had wondered for months what she had wrong. Why it was so easy for them to just ignore her; disregard her, end their friendships.

“Don't leave me hanging

In a city so dead

Held up so high

On such a breakable thread”

           They left her alone. Adrien left her alone. She trust them, and just left her.

“You were all the things I thought I knew

And I thought we could be…”

           Marinette closed her eyes for just a moment as the beat of the music changed.

You were everything, everything that I wanted

“We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it

All of the memories, so close to me, just fade away

All this time you were pretending

So much for my happy ending

 So much for my happy ending.”

           The song went on for a few more minutes. She had let the music as the guitar solo slowly died down. The song was met with applause.

           Marinette performed a few more songs, along with Luka. After one of them, Harvey had come directly up to her and Luka and offered to be their manager. Apparently, Jagged’s label had been watching them and wanted to give each of them a record deal. If Penny and Chloe hadn’t been there, both Luka and Marinette wouldn’t fallen her their butts in shock.

           Jagged called Boyd away to discuss something.

           Luka gripped his guitar so tightly Marinette feared it would break, “That didn’t just happen, did it?”

“Nope,” Marinette shook her head, earnestly. “It’s the fumes from all their hairspray. It must have knocked us out. We’re in coma right now.”

           Chloe glared at them. “Oh. Shut. UP! You were amazing. You both were. Marinette you screamed Girl power. And Luka, there’s probably a million girls planning on marry you right now.”

“I have to call my mom!” Luka and Marinette said at the same time.

           Her parents were excited about the news. But they made it clear as long as it didn’t interfere with her school work, she could do whatever she wanted. Sabine and Tom were just happy their little girl was back.

           Luka said his mom was the safe. School first, hall of fame second.

           Jagged pulled Marinette on stage for one last song. The song was chosen by Chloe. It was the song Marinette wrote once she realized she was done. She was done with the drama in class, done with fake friends. Done with game and lies. Done with mean comments and ice cold glares. She was over it. And Marinette didn’t care anymore.

“You wanna play, you wanna stay, you wanna have it all

You started messing with my head until I hit a wall

Maybe I shoulda known, maybe I shoulda known

That you would walk, you would walk out the door.”

           Marinette watched Penny smile as she turned on the big fans pointed at her.

Said we were done, you met someone and rubbed it in my face

Cut to the punch, she broke your heart, and then she ran away

I guess you shoulda known, I guess you shoulda known

That I would talk, I would talk

           She remembered Alya standing in class renouncing their friendship, and nearly everyone joining her. The look on Lila’s face as she finally fulfilled her promise. Adrien not doing anything, and avoiding contact. He never stood up for her; not once. He blocked her calls, stopped answering her texts, until finally he let Nino and who else in class convince him to end his friendship with Marinette outright.

           But when got over the loss, the heartbreak; she decided it was for the best. Marinette didn’t need them. She didn’t want them. Marinette swore she’d never be friends with them again.

“But even if the stars and moon collide

I never want you back into my life

You can take your words and all your lies.”

           The fire in Marinette’s eyes caused a few people to step back; including Luka. Then a wide smile spread over her face and

“Oh I really don't care

Even if the stars and moon collide

I never want you back into my life

You can take your words and all your lies

Oh oh I really don't care

Oh oh oh I really don't care?”

           When the song ended, everyone cheered.

           Jagged grabbed the mic, “Wasn’t she pure Rock and Roll, or what?” He picked up Fang. “What do you think, Fang? You loved it! For those of you who don’t know; this is my pet,” He told the camera. “Totally coolest guy ever. I’d never do anything mainstream like get a cat or anything.” He said with a wink. “For those of you who loved today’s acts; I’ve got some good news. All songs are going to be on itunes. Just look them up! In Addition; my label wants to offer both Luka and Marinette records deals. Who knows, maybe I’ll reach out to Clara about them coming on tour with us; we could use a couple of awesome opening acts.”

           Marinette went home with the biggest smile on her face. She didn’t think much what happened. She figured the record deal wouldn’t go anywhere; someone would realize just how lame she was and stop it dead in her tracks. Marinette also figured that Chloe had exaggerated about how many watched; no one wanted to see some Amateur sing, even if it was on Jagged Stone streamed it.

It wasn’t a big deal, Marinette thought when she went to bed, tomorrow no one would even remember her. Still, it was a pretty fun.

           By Monday morning, Marinette would learn just how big of deal it really was. Little did she know that, overnight, her song ‘Not Today’ was downloaded over 2 million times? Her song ‘Happy ending’ sold over 3 million. But ‘Really Don’t Care’ broke records. The rest of the songs had had performs sold well too; each selling over a million copies. The world was listening to her music, and she had no clue. Luka did pretty well too; his songs were just trailing after Marinette’s in sells.

           Marinette had been helping her parents in the bakery’s kitchen, listening to the radio, when a new song started to play. Marinette turned white as a sheet, “M-Mom! Dad!” She said, her voice trembling.

“What’s up, honey?” Tom asked, worry clear in his eyes.

           She pointed at the radio with a shaky hand, “That’s mine.”

“What?” Sabine asked confused.

“That’s mine,” Marinette repeated. “That’s my song!”

           Her parents looked even more confused. Until they listened closer to the song and recognized their daughter’s voice.

           Sabine dropped the pans she was holding, “You’re on the radio,” She whispered. “You’re on the radio.” She yelled, cheering.

           Tom pulled his daughter into a giant bear hug, “My sugarplum’s a Superstar!”

           After Marinette’s song

           Once, she finished in the bakery, Marinette ran to Chloe’s. When she was let into the penthouse, she rushed to Chloe’s room, and as soon as she saw the blond, she yelled, “I’m on the radio!” And screamed. Chloe screamed with her.

           Then Luka called and screamed, “I’m on the radio!” The sound of his mother cheering the background. As far as he was concerned it was the best day of his life. The year had sucked so hard; first his sister became one of Lila’s groupies, then he got kicked out of his own band, he realized he and the girl (Marinette) he had a crush on were better off as friends, and he broke his lucky guitar and had to fork over his savings to buy a new one.

           But getting a record deal, being on the radio, nearly made all of it worth it. Luka still really wanted his sister back though.

           The three friends spent the rest of the weekend hanging out and being amazed at their luck. Chloe got the internship she was after in the PR department. Thanks to Penny, she’d be Luka and Marinette’s promotor. Or least learning firsthand how everything works.

           When Monday morning came, Marinette was still oblivious to just much had changed in so little time… Until she got to school, and some random girl asked for her autograph. Marinette stuttered out a, “Sure.” And signed the girl’s notebook. While she was doing it, four other kids lined up behind her. She signed each one with a smile.

“I really like your song: Not today,” One guy told her. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one that gets that way sometimes.”

           Marinette was so touched, she nearly started crying right there. She would’ve if Chloe hadn’t dragged her away, with a hiss about not crying in front on fans.

           On the way to class, a few kids stopped and asked her for a picture. She agreed. But when more and more kids tried to get her attention, Marinette, once again, had to be saved by Chloe.

“You are not getting mauled on my watch,” Chloe tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’d never get to work in PR again.”

           Marinette giggled. Chloe rolled her eyes with a fund smile.

           The smiles died when they reached class. They had gotten there early. Marinette was rarely ever late anymore sense she had lighted her work load. Only a few kid were there. Max, Nathaniel, and Mylene; they all looked at Marinette with wide eyes.

           Marinette ignored them as Chloe and she went to their seats. They made light talk and ignored the looks of the other students as more and more arrived. Most didn’t say a word to her; not knowing what to do or say.

           When Rose arrived, she immediately rushed over to Marinette, “I love your music. I didn’t know you could sing!” She chirped. “I can’t believe you performed with Jagged Stone. You’re so lucky.”

           The bluenette gave the other girl a small smile, “Yeah it was amazing. Luka was great too,” She added. “He’s ecstatic about the record deal. He was so bummed when Kitty Section kicked him out; something about him holding you guys back. Did you guys ever find a new singer and lead guitarist? It’s been months, right?” It was spiteful. It was the meanest thing Marinette had ever done. And they deserved it.

           Rose visibly wilted. So did Ivan and Juleka. Every member of Kitty Section regretted kicking Luka out of the band the moment they saw him performing with Jagged Stone; getting the break of a lifetime. And when they heard about a potential record deal… well, let’s say regret didn’t begin to cover it.

“Oh, we’re working on it,” Rose smiled, a big fake smile on her face. “We got a lot of people we’re considering.” The truth was, and it was hard for Kitty section to learn, that most people who had a fraction of Luka’s talent didn’t want to work with a bunch of teenagers. And without Luka there, no one was reminding them to practice or book gigs.

           Rose returned to a seat, feeling more bummed than she had when she got to the class. She had been happy for Marinette, and for Luka. But she had so many dreams for Kitty Section and herself that just because she was happy for them, didn’t mean she wasn’t unhappy for herself.

           Chloe pulled Marinette back into the conversation, just as the last of the students arrived, “So, once you sign the record deal, are you going to go on tour with Jagged and Clara. Luka said he’s going.”

           Marinette frowned. She hadn’t really considered it much. Clara had reached out to her congratulate her on the record deal and tell her how much she loved Marinette’s songs. Clara had hinted hard that she’d love Marinette to come on tour with her. But Marinette didn’t know. Being a rock star wasn’t ever one of her goals in life.

“I still want to design,” Marinette admitted.

           Chloe shrugged, “So do that too.” She suddenly gripped Marinette’s arm. “You can wear design your own dress to the Teen Choice Awards, and the MTV music Awards. You can design my dress!”

           Marinette laughed, “My song came out like three days ago, and you’re practically writing my acceptance speech; I might not get nominated.”

           The blond scoffed, “Oh you’re getting nominated. Do you know how many people downloaded your songs? Records were broken. Even my mother played ‘Really don’t care’ whenever she wants someone to stop talking to her now. Go on tour!”

“I’d need more songs,” Marinette said. “I’ll need to release like an actual album.”

“Penny went through all yours songs, remember?” Chloe said. “She sent me a list of all ones that she think would top the charts. She wants to record, ‘Fight Song’ as soon as you sign with the label. And she swears, ‘I kissed a Girl’ is going make people lose their minds.”

           Marinette sent her a smirk, “That song’s half yours remember; we wrote it after you and Kagami got closer.”

“Won’t even hide the body, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe growled.

           Marinette laughed, “Fine! If I go on tour, I want you there with me. I couldn’t do it with you! You’re only one I’d trust me my social media accounts.”

“How could you invite Chloe,” Alya asked hearing the end of the conversation as she arrived just after the bell rang. “I’d be a much better social media influencer than her!”

           Chloe raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh, and how’s the traffic for the Ladyblog?” She asked.

           Alya flushed with anger. It was bad. They all knew it was bad. Ladyblog had died dramatically after Ladybug vocally for the other press to hear told Alya she didn’t work with reporters who didn’t fact check. “Marinette’s my bestie; I should be going with her.”

           Marinette snorted, “Last I check your bestie was Lila. Or don’t you remember ending our friendship?”

“Well, I, uh,” Alya stuttered out. She had completely forgotten disowning the bluenette. She had been so excited when her mother told her friend’s name was trending, thinking she’d see Lila Rossi, only to see Marinette Dupain-Cheng on the top search list of the day. Then she watched the video of her performing, when Jagged mentioned the record deal, Alya lost her mind. Her mind was filled with images of her and Marinette at music awards shows and on tours; movie premieres. It was all going to be amazing.

           Except it wasn’t. She and Marinette weren’t friends anymore. A balloon popped inside Alya.

           Marinette gave her a sad smile, “What did you think I forgot? Or you must have.”

“The chances of that happening or as likely as Jagged Stone owning a cat,” Chloe smirked as Lila walked into the door. “Or did you forget that part too? Wonder how Lila saved something he never owned?”

           To her credit, Lila didn’t bat an eye. “He doesn’t own one now. He must have forgotten the poor thing once he got really famous and they went out of style. I wonder what happened to it.” It was good performance. Lila even got teary eyed.

           Still, Lila was met with suspicious looks. The class started to wonder if she was really their golden ticket. Or if the pissed of the real one instead.

“Congratulations, Marinette,” Lila simpered, jealously flaring in her eyes. “Who knew Jagged Stone was your Uncle?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Chloe poked yet another hole in her story. “You said you were oh so very close.”

           Marinette smirked, “I had get my rock and roll genes from somewhere.”

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Scenario to get creative with: Skyquake taking Dreadwing to brothel to "get loose" a bit. ;)

So I found this buried in my asks, and I’m shook because this is actually a VERY fun idea, so let’s fucking go, let’s get carried away with this fuckin idea.

“Ah ah ah, optics closed, brother.”

Dreadwing was usually the one in charge of their creation day celebrations,  but this year, Skyquake wanted to take the reigns. Dreadwing, being a bit of a pushover for his little brother, allowed him to take this one. He knew Cybertron better than he did, so he was expecting something new, something exciting, especially given his tone. Dreadwing allowed his little brother to guide him, optics offline and walking to Primus knows where. Then he finally stopped.

“Okay, open!”

Dreadwing looked around. A bit of an odd building. It didn’t have anything on the outside, apart from a glowing neon sign, depicting a fem blowing a kiss. Dreadwing raised a brow.

“Okay, you got me. What is this?”

“The one thing that makes this place a million times better than Caminus.”

Skyquake paused, clearly wanting his brother to take a moment to think. It then clicked.

“Brother! Are you telling me we’re at a BROTHEL? That’s not even legal-”

“On CAMINUS. Here in Cyberton, they’re quite popular, and this one is the best of the best.”

“Primus sake, how many of these have you seen?”

“I’m not flinging myself at any pretty fem I see, brother. I just like supporting local businesses. Besides, you’ve been so tense with work lately, you deserve just one night to relax. Come on, you trust your brother, do you not?”

Dreadwing hesitated. Skyquake had promised he was going to pay for the evening, and his intentions seemed honest. It felt rude to say no, as uncomfortable as he was. He sighed.

“Fine. Just, make this easy for me, and...be in a different room when you do your thing.”

“Because you need to see my aft when I’m giving it to a fem.”

“Brother.”

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to ease the mood. Come on, follow me.”

Skyquake pushed past the front door, and were met with mechs and fems alike, greeting them loudly. Dreadwing let his brother walk up to the counter as he looked around. There was quite a pretty bunch of mechs and fems around. Freshly waxed and painted, some in the laps of paying customers, some bringing out drinks, and quite a few giving him the optic.

“So, in short, we’re here to celebrate!”

Dreadwing just tuned in to what Skyquake was saying. He was talking to an older fem, who was quite fetching herself. Claws that looked like daggers, and optics that glistened in greed, she looked like she’d have her fair share of prey. She gave him a look over, and chuckled.

“Mmm. Handsome thing, that one is. First time in here, darling?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re from Caminus, so this is...different.”

“Ah yes, these kinds of places are a big no no there, if I recall. Anyhow, don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you both. A friend of Skyquake’s is a friend of ours, afterall.”

Skyquake shrugged as his brother gave him the side optic. While there was nothing wrong about visiting this place, Dreadwing was still kink shaming. Skyquake chuckled.

“Don’t look so nervous. They’re all quite kind, I assure you. Now, I’m paying for everything afterwards, I don’t want him to see just how much this is. He’s nosey like that.”

Dreadwing turned his helm away, a bit flustered to be caught in the act of peeking.

“I’m not nosey. I’m...observant.”

“Uh huh. Anyway, Is Maxima here tonight?”

“Yep, you’re lucky, she JUST got in. I’ll see if she’s willing to see you.”

“Maxima?”

Dreadwing found it odd that he was so specific on this particular fem. Skyquake scoffed.

“She’s just a fem. Don’t read too much into it.”

“You mentioned her by name, a bit late for that.”

The fem behind the counter chuckled, seeming to type something on her data pad, before leaning over at Dreadwing.

“Okay handsome, what do YOU like? You lookin’ for a wine and dine type, or a wham bam thank you ma’am?”

Dreadwing stammered. What a question to be asked. Skyquake snorted.

“We can’t afford taking ANYONE out tonight, so tell Cheesecake we gotta pass on that front. Just let him meet a few, see who he clicks with.”

“Can do. And Maxima just told me she’s got time to see you, so head to room one fifteen, you know where that is. Big blue, you’re with me.”

“Please don’t leave me alone. Not that you’re uh, not good company ma’am.”

Skyquake rolled his optics, patting his brother on his shoulder.

“If I didn’t trust them, we wouldn’t be here.”

Dreadwing sighed, before nodding. Skyquake left him to Primus knows where, and Dreadwing followed the fem ahead of him. She opened the door to a reasonable sized room, and the large couches signified it was meant as a sort of waiting room.

“Now, take a seat, we’ll have a few girls and boys pop in, see who you like. Once you find someone, you just come and give me a holler outside. Don’t be nervous, now.”

Dreadwing sat down, and let her leave. He was alone in this room now, and he felt tense. He had the occasional bout of intercourse, but that was SO long ago. Relationships of any sort just felt...odd to him now, as if the only other bot he could interact with, was his own brother. It was a bit sad, if he thought about it for too long. Enough so, that meeting all these mechs and fems did nothing for him. Some of the fems were pretty and sweet, some of the mechs were charming and handsome, but none of them really caught his optics. He was about ready to call it quits, when one remained.

“Hello. I’m Orion Pax.”

He was a small, cute little thing. Amongst the shiny paint jobs, fresh wax, and fish nets, he stuck out like a sore servo. Dreadwing couldn’t help but look at him up and down, perplexed.

“I’m sorry, you...work here?”

“As a part time job, yes. It’s nice to have a little extra credits to spend on the weekends. May I sit next to you?”

All the other’s did the same thing, but for some reason, this made him...nervous. He nodded however, scooting a bit to allow him to sit.

“Everyone is talking about how difficult you are to please. I take it you aren’t quite like your brother.”

“Primus I should hope not.”

That made little Orion chuckle. He pulled out a data pad from his sub space.

“You seem a bit tense. Poetry always relaxes me, personally. Would It help to read you something I wrote?”

“Please, I do love my fair share of poetry.”

The little bot cleared his vocal processor.

“Migrating answers

Beast of love discovers all

Bargain intertwined.”

“That’s...rather lovely. Did you write that?”

“Yes actually. I dabble in poetry in my free time, and more often than not, my sweetspark double checks my work.”

“Does...your sweetspark know you do this?”

“Of course. And he’s fine with it. He isn’t...around a lot, and sometimes you just need a big mech to-”

His face suddenly flared, and he hid it past his data pad.

“I..shouldn’t have said that, ignore it.”

Dreadwing chuckled, pushing the data pad down. What pretty optics, this little bot has.

“There’s...nothing really wrong with that, honestly. You like big mechs, and I like...well, you quite frankly.”

There was an odd moment of silence between them, before Dreadwing pressed his lips against his. There was no resistance, no uncomfortable tension. Dreadwing wanted him, and he clearly felt the exact same. Orion pulled away, cheeks still aflame. Even if this was just some kind of act to draw in more customers, Dreadwing didn’t care. It FELT honest, and the shy little poet angle was adorable. He was cute, innocent, and Dreadwing wanted to frag him till his processor malfunctioned. Orion clearly felt the same way, given how he lingered for a moment, before tapping his servo.

“I...have to go. Don’t forget my name.”

Dreadwing wanted to just take him here and now, but he was not the kind of mech to break etiquette, especially in new places. He waited for little Orion to walk out of the room, waited a moment, and the fem from before popped her helm in.

“So, you got your pick of the litter. Anyone-”

“Orion Pax. The small fellow.”

Realizing he sounded a bit too eager, he cleared his vocal processor. How desperate was he? Not even letting her finish her sentence. She chuckled, before motioning him to follow her once again.

“Let’s get you a room big guy. Feel like if I keep you two apart any longer, you’ll start breaking doors down.”

Dreadwing slipped past the other mechs and fems, and was brought to another room. It felt so much more intimate in here than the previous room. A nice, soft looking berth, soft music being played in the background, and the best part? A little Orion Pax. Standing there, in a rather thin looking night gown. The fem chuckled, nudging his side.

“Don’t let his size fool you. He’s sturdy.”

She slipped out, and Orion groaned in humiliation.

“I’m sorry about that, she uh, has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Are you saying you’re NOT sturdy?”

Dreadwing had no idea where that question came from. He delivered it so eagerly, it made BOTH of their faces feel flushed. Orion rubbed the back of his helm, finally putting his gaze back upon him.

“I...I mean, I wouldn’t say THAT…”

Dreadwing had no idea he’d be so easily wooed by someone so small. Orion gestured to the berth.

“Do you uh, want a massage? We usually do that to kinda ease customers into it.”

“I don’t need easing in, to be frank.”

Dreadwing had no idea what came over him. He was on Orion like some hound dog, lifting him off the floor, and practically flinging him onto berth. He pressed his lips against his, and Orion did nothing to fight it. His little servos ran across his chest, dipped in between those nooks and crannies of his armor. Dreadwing savored those touches. Savored the way he groaned into his lips, savored the way he smelled even. Orion pulled away, servos lightly caressing his face. 

“You...should open your spike panel. A big mech like you needs to be taken care of.”

It might have been just sweet talk, but Primus this little one had such a way with words. Dreadwing pushed off of him, popping open his spike panel. He was almost embarrassed, how pressurized his spike was already. There was greed in his optics, and he sat up, using his little servos to grab and stroke his girth.

“Something...tells me you aren’t as innocent as I thought previously.”

Orion chuckled, rubbing his cheek against the thick, eager spike.

“I...just like big mechs. And you’re as big as they come. You deserve to feel SO good.”

Orion pushed the tip past his lips, and Dreadwing felt himself tense up. Such a little mouth, with such a wanting, skilled glossa. His glossa was small, just like the rest of him, but with the way it circled around him, the way he let the drool dribble down his base. Dreadwing couldn’t help but have his helm toss back as the little mech only took him further. This wasn’t the first time he took a spike that size, he doubted it’d be the last. After a good, solid moment of lubing up his spike, Orion pulled away. Orion laid on his back, opening both his legs, and his valve panel. He made quite the show; playing and kneading at his already soaked folds. Dreadwing couldn’t help but stroke himself, and that seemed to only egg on the little bot.

“If I can be lewd for a moment...I want you to frag me as hard as you can. I want to feel that big, throbbing spike inside of me. And YOU want my little valve.”

He was right. Dreadwing leaned forward, putting his servo over his little chest, as if he’d try to run away from him.

“When you say as hard as you can, I do hope you understand I do not take that lightly.”

“Oh trust me, I know what I’m asking for. Come on big mech. Give it to me. Use me. Fuck me.”

Such pretty words, they could be poetry in itself. Dreadwing no longer hesitated. He pushed himself past the lips, and instead of taking it slowly, Dreadwing just stuffed himself right inside, fully and totally. Orion threw his helm back, little servos clinging to his back desperately.

“Are you hurt? Should I-”

“Don’t you pull out. Don’t you dare.”

That was all the permission Dreadwing needed. He was done being nice. He started thrusting into him, his hips clanging against his own. Dreadwing wasn’t merciful; having enough force in his thrust to move the berth itself. Orion’s mouth was a tool for evil, first being used to charm him into this berth, now using it to arouse him further. The way he cried out for him, the way he cried for more, the way he screamed, as if for mercy. Dreadwing kept his face shoved into that sweet, soft neck of his, and the little one wasn’t even spared his bites. Orion’s breath was hot, husky in his audial.

“You can bite me harder, big boy. Take a bite out of me, like I know you want.”

A good, harsh bite not only made his neck bleed, but made Orion squeal in ecstasy. Dreadwing knew he wasn’t going to last very long, not with a tight valve like this, not with a mech so hungry for his touch. When Orion grabbed fist fulls of his aft (with a rather surprising grip), he was forced into an overload. He panicked, realizing he was still inside, before he pulled out. He ended up showering the little mech in his pink, hot load. The sight of the little mech bathed in the afterglow, was enough to make Dreadwing want him yet again. Orion wiped his face with his servo, and licked it off, sighing in content.

“You...REALLY needed that, didn’t you?”

“More...than I thought, honestly. I apologize, I don’t know what’s the polite thing to do from here. Am I supposed to...give you a tip, or-”

“You gave me a LOT more than a tip, big mech.”

Orion chuckled, one hand leaning down to help ease fluids out of his gaping valve. This little mech was so quick witted, so eager to pull him further into affection. Dreadwing was about to go for a second round, when there was a knock at their door.

“Time’s up you two. Everything alright?”

“Just fine! He was just saying he wants to buy more time.”

Dreadwing was about to speak against that, as he said no such thing, until Orion held onto his helm, taking a nip out of his chin. Dreadwing lightly gulped.

“I...suppose I could use more time. It IS my creation day, after all.”

“Good to hear! Go on you two, I’ll check in later!”

As the voice left, Orion chuckled.

“Now that we have just a little more time...how do you feel about letting me at YOUR valve?”

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

Dreadwing lost track of time as he walked out of that room. His brother had been waiting there for what seemed like a while, given the relief on his face.

“Primus sake, there you are! You were in there for SO long, thought someone was killing you or something.”

“I...apologize. I lost track of time.”

Skyquake chuckled, shaking his helm.

“Alright, let’s see the damage here…”

Skyquake handled the final bill for them both, and Dreadwing was too lost in his thoughts to peek over his shoulder. He did some rather...embarrassing things in there. Sure he liked it all, but he didn’t like figuring out all these secret kinks he seemed to have. No matter.

What were the odds he was going to see him again, anyway?

[nctinfo]

[TRANS] WayV’s interview with ELLE Korea May 2020 issue!

— Kun

A suffering leader, everyone's Kun —  With a meticulous personality. The pros and cons would be: I think I am the leader thanks to my sense of responsibility and delicacy. [But] when there is too much to take care of, it is a bit cumbersome. There’s no member who gives me a hard time because they all pick on me one by one (laughs). If I had to introduce my hometown, Fujian Province, it's a quiet city with clean air and few people. Many people come to visit because the mountains and the lakes are beautiful. When I think about nature, I start missing my hometown. At school, I was the head of the student council's entertainment department. I might look like a serious person since the members are so active and mischievous, but I'm also a fun person. Times when I feel like we’re one team are when you know what the others are thinking just by the look in their eyes and, when we dance and the movements are 'synchronised'. WayV to me is the comfort of being able to share everything with each other. All the members worry a lot about music so a lot of ideas come out every time we hear new music. It is certainly an advantage that all seven have a lot of desire. I have a bright young voice, but my desire as a vocalist is to have a thicker and more mature voice these days. Wouldn't it suit dance songs that match our [team's] style more than ballads. I graduated in Practical Music. If there is a song I want to arrange: I'm still trying to look for my style while listening to various songs. I want to challenge not only the arrangement but also the composition. I am a good cook. The dishes I recently made for the members are the dishes that I learned from the main chef of the company while I practiced them [on the members]. The menu with the biggest reaction recently was DongPo Pork. When I can't sleep, I deliberately watch low-rated movies and these days, I watch a four-hour-long landscape video shot from a train driver's perspective. It makes me fall asleep really fast (laughs). The most memorable stage after debuting was as expected, MAMA 2019. When I was giving the award speech, my hand that was holding the microphone was shaking and it was all captured [on camera]. What I want to say to myself in hard times is to be confident! The moment you lose your confidence, everything becomes more difficult. The mindset I don't want to lose is to be grateful. Everything I do right now is impossible to do by myself. This is the most important. To Winwin: who has known me the longest among the members! I hope you always take on challenges with courage because I will always be there beside you to support you. Also, all the members know that you are cute.  

— Lucas

Healthy energy, hot Lucas — Between a boy and a man, I feel closer to 100% boy! I don't think I feel mature enough. [Maybe I’m just like] a baby who wants to be a man (laughs). The most impressive man to me is a responsible person. And also, a man who gives everything to his loved ones. Having an attractive rapping sound because of a low and husky voice. My desire to sing is big! I want to sing a sad song. I've heard from people around me that a calm song suits my voice. Like the calm songs of Paul Kim I normally listen to too. My favorite song is "Take Off, The killing point is the dance break, with the powerful guitar riff. Emotion is what is the most important on stage. I believe each song has its own soul, and it is important to immerse yourself. My role in the team is positive energy. Although always looking bright, surprisingly, I have a lot of thoughts. Yesterday too, I had a lot of thoughts before going to bed, so it took me a while to fall asleep. Not long ago, Kun hyung played me a song he had composed and so many ideas came up so I wrote them down and sent it to him. WayV to me is a friendship that feels really deep even though it’s been only a year since I made a debut with the people I love so much. So much that when we come back from a schedule, as we laugh and talk together, the stress will suddenly be gone. The most important thing in a team is to have sincere conversations with each other to understand each other's differences. Only then can we get along well because of the wider understanding. Having appeared in a number of familiar variety shows like the Chinese version of <Running Man> <Let's Run Season 3> I like that I can go to various places the most. It's also a special opportunity to meet people with other jobs and not only artists. I think I'm often called/casted [for these shows] because of my sincere youthful reactions. The mindset I don't want to lose is the promise I made when I debuted to be a good influence on people. That's what I always keep in mind. I want to be a person who always gives positive influence to people, family, and fans around me. To Yangyang: who I know is really smart, you're still a cute little brother to me (laughs)

— Winwin A quiet presence, Winwin — In the reality show <Dream Plan>, mingling well with the elders in the village was impressive. Special trick behind it was thanking them for looking out for me! Since they were all kind natured, I guess treating them with sincerity looked good. When Lucas and I visited their home, we got served a meal and received a warm welcome. A performance video of Ten and I has been released. As a dancer, Ten is a member whose strength is being versatile. He helps the members at dance practices a lot. I’ve learned dancing in a special dance school. At the time I was the shortest and least talkative kid until I grew taller in high school. I’ve spent most of the time practicing alone. Chinese dance is similar to modern dance mixed with ballet. Learning the choreography is fast and it’s an advantage to be skillful in tumbling. I would like to properly showcase a modern dance at a concert someday. When I’m on the stage what I care about the most is my gestures and facial expression. During ‘Take Off’ promotions, the gestures and facial expressions I did during my part varied from stage to stage. I hear that I’m ‘pure’ a lot. A new charm that I want to have: our fans call me ‘Baby Chick’. I want to showcase more of an ‘eagle’ image, so I cut my hair short. Isn’t it similar to Park Saeroy (laugh). Something that makes me angry, although I normally have a good temper is being unsatisfied with stage performance to the point I can’t sleep on that day. But it’s okay to just take a nap. I just need to do better. The most memorable moment in WayV promotions was receiving the Best New Asian Artist Award at the MAMAs, it was the first time we’ve gotten an award together so I was very happy. The reason why I went to Beijing on my own as a middle school student seems to be fate. I passed my exams without much determination, left my hometown and went to school in Beijing where I was noticed and then debuted. Coincidence became fate. To me WayV is a path that we’re talking together, a team with a lot of growth potential. I’d like it if the younger members came to me whenever they need someone. I feel our fans love and support the most when: I’m always amazed and grateful for our fans hearts. All of the people who always look out for us even when we’re not promoting any albums and who support us are an immense source of strength. Success to me is when more people get to know us and we get to perform in many different countries. I want to think about my personal success after my team’s success. To Kun: when members want advice, we reach out to Kun first before our families. He knows a lot, can do a lot, and is a person we can depend on.  

 — Ten

Ten who is curious about what's next rather than what’s now — The secret to adapting well everywhere is attending an international school. I had friends of various nationalities and I also traveled a lot. Wherever I went, I went to see the common [places] first. Learning an unfamiliar culture is fun. I’m learning Thai, English, Korean, Japanese and now working hard at learning Chinese. I memorize expressions that I can use while watching Chinese variety shows and dramas. Although it's still difficult to read the buzzwords and hanja. The most important thing as a performer, and what makes you an outstanding dancer, is to have your own style while not being trapped by masculinity and femininity. I am different now from a few years ago and I'm trying to challenge myself by being flexible in various aspects. What I've learned since debut is, in the case of WayV, that when you work with various genres the main concern is the vocal style and with SuperM, I learned about the importance of performance through the activities [we did]. 'It's important to dance well, but you must also have your own [style]', 'think about what you want to express in front of the camera, but you must be faithful to your feelings on every stage in order to develop [yourself]' is the advice I received from the Hyungs (Baekhyun, Kai, Taemin). For the dance video that I did together with Winwin, the concept, music, settings, and outfits were all decided by us together without the company's advice. I came to realize the difficulties of being a staff member (laughs). I can [now] see the wider picture and more details. I like poetry too. I think poetry expresses emotions. It helps me  understand the world and the society as a person and not as an artist. The lyrics of my 2nd solo song 'New Heroes' feel like an autobiography. If 'Dream in a Dream' was all about the performance then 'New Heroes' is a song about the time spent committing [to something] and I thought anyone can sympathize with that. The [original] lyrics were so great that I asked them not to change it and to just go with it. I want to write lyrics myself someday. The kind of person I want to be is [someone who] always tries to go with the flow as I think that making plans and setting expectations can make it more difficult on yourself. I hope I could be a person who can leave a good impact on others. WayV to me is just like a family who always does everything together and takes care of each other asking ‘have you already eaten?’. Everyone has an open mind to try and accept new challenges. During the 'Moonwalk' promotion period, I was kinda surprised how well we got along. Having received recognition for my skills since debut. The times when the expectations are high are: Art and languages too are ever-evolving disciplines, so it's not easy to keep up. Nevertheless, there are self-expectations and anticipations to show a new side of myself. I will work hard (laughs). I still play Pokemon Go and I'm waiting for the June update. I will catch a lot of new Pokemon again! To Xiaojun: with whom I saw Harry Potter together yesterday! Let's make an appearance in Harry Potter when there is a reboot.

— Hendery

Flexible midfielder, Hendery — Something I’ve gotten into recently is practicing playing drums. Kun hyung is cooking a lot lately so I’ve been reviewing the food too. The other day he made kimchi jjigae so good that it even got an approval from manager hyung. My favourite track is ‘Take Off’. We filmed the music video in Ukraine and spent loads of happy times together, so I feel happier whenever I listen to it. Something I’ve improved on since debut is that recording songs takes less time. When I hear a member of staff say ‘Is this really Hendery’s voice?’ I feel proud of myself. The charm of my vocal is: I’m still looking for it, but I feel like my rap sounds nice when I spice it up with a little melody. Good at giving advice to our members. A tip to giving good advice is: it’s important to have helping and not making decisions in mind. Talk about both bad and good points about the A and B. The secret to always looking like I’m at peace is my parents always telling me ‘Your happiness is the most important. You always have a home to come back to, so work as much as you can enjoy’, thanks to them I grew up as someone with little stress or worries. Mindset that I don’t want to lose is the excitement before going on stage. I think the most important thing for an artist is their greed for performing. When I get on stage the most important is interacting with fans. The most memorable stage was our Korean debut on <Show! Champion>. I couldn’t believe we’re performing Chinese songs in Korea. I was so overwhelmed to see our fans welcoming us so enthusiastically even though they didn’t understand what we were saying. I opened an instagram account recently. My posting plan is ‘This is where I am‘ ‘I am filming today’. I want to showcase my daily self. I hope our fans can smile for a brief moment when they see the pics I had the most fun taking. To me WayV is: I feel empty when I go away to see my family for a little. Every time that happens I facetime them to relieve the sadness. Lucas is the member who picks up the most (laugh). To Lucas: No matter how busy we get, even if we become grandpas, I’ll always be by your side. It’s something I want to say to all of the members, but Lucas is a friend I'm especially attached to so I really wanted to say this. 

— Yangyang

Infinite potential, bold maknae Yangyang — I speak Chinese, German, English Korean and Spanish. Great language skills are useful when you travel. Whenever I talk with friends of various nationalities, I think it's fortunate that I can speak many languages. In our team alone, it's full [with people who speak] Chinese, Thai, English, and Korean (laughs). My role in the team is being the happy virus! Although of course, the hyungs think I'm a maknae that requires a lot of energy from them. WayV to me is a high tension team that can deliver strong and positive energy. If someone shows a slight sign of exhaustion, we immediately stick together and somehow infect each other with energy. I think that such energy is conveyed to fans on stage. If I have learned anything from living together with the members [it would be] the habit I have developed to control my greed and to care for others. I'm used to looking at the other's feelings now before doing something. My favorite song is ‘King of Hearts’, because I participated in writing the lyrics. I also love 'Love Talk' from the 2nd mini album. It is a charming song that is sweet and sexy but has a way to make your body move. My ambition as a rapper is the flow. Because I think this is the aspect that determines the impression of a song from the listener's point of view. I want to be a multi-talented person who is good at not only rapping but also dancing, singing, and writing lyrics. I've always had a lot of ambition. The attractive part of writing lyrics is that I can tell my story, since from a long time ago, I wrote lyrics little by little and it's always fun work. I want to steadily keep doing it. I like Virgil Ablo and Demna Gvasalia, and the fashion icon who caught my eye these days is Mike Amirie. I am drawn to people who have a simple yet clear style. The same goes for musicians. I like people who have a clear style like Travis Scott and A$AP Rocky. I’ve said 'I like who I am' before. Instances when I am especially like myself is when I'm confident. When I have confidence and want to show off, I can show much more than my actual skills. I use SNS to check on NBA and fashion news. I see the news on sneakers I'm looking forward to fast. Surprisingly, I don't look up anything about me [but] when a stage or performance is over I do look up the reactions. Most of them are good, so every time I read, I get energized. To Hendery: hyung, you seem to really get into gaming, but don't try too hard (laughs). 

— Xiaojun

Warm voice, Xiaojun — Something I’m into these days is practicing the songs that will be included in the next album that we are preparing for. Before debuting, I only sang my favorite ballad song, but nowadays, I want to sing songs of other genres such as R&B. I've been uploading videos of me singing on my personal Instagram. My favorite song is ‘Face to Face’. My heart warms up every time I hear it. I really like the lyrics ‘You won’t be lonely because I’ll be your strength, I won’t let you cope with your wounds alone in silence’. The keywords that describe me are kind. Friendly. Positive. I often say ‘I wish my songs were healing different people’. The way I heal myself is: my heart calms down when I look at pictures with many memories sealed in them. I take a lot of pictures of the scenery and especially when I look at the pictures of my hometown in Guangdong I feel healed. The reason behind my strong sensitivity is the big influence of my dad who’s a singer and my older brother. Ever since I was little we would often watch movies together. I graduated with a musical major. My greed for musicals is: I’ll surely do it again later. I like starring in musicals but one day I’d like to make my own. A musical piece I’d like to recommend is <Dear Evan Hansen> who won at Tony Awards and Grammys. It’s a warm story about a lonely high school boy suffering from social anxiety disorder, who is working on his trauma and healing from the pain. My way of dealing with stress is quiet time on my own. Just like positive energy, negative energy is easily spread to others, so I’d rather be alone. A memory I really want to make is a trip, I promised to go on before debuting, with the members. The destination is still undecided. The kind of team member I want to be is a silent supporter. It would be nice if I can be 'my people/dearest' to others. Something I want to do this year is to have an event for the fans. I like to surprise friends or throw surprise birthday parties. I think fans will love it if we would do a guerilla performance. I told you here so I have to throw [that idea] away and I will prepare something else (laughs). To Ten: You are one of the 'Hyung-line', and you Korean is the best so there are many times you have to lead us. Don't carry everything on your own and sometimes lean on us! The same goes for Kun hyung.

t/n: Due to the structure of this interview there might be inaccuracies as many things only made sense in Korean but sounded kinda awkward in English (more so compared to other translations we did). We tried our best to convey what they meant, but please keep this in mind when reading this interview.

Translation: Alex, Esmee @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: ELLE Korea Scans — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

[rewolfaekilerom]

why reread books?

//NOTE: This was originally posted to Wordpress on 04.24.2021//

I didn’t write last week. Whoops. I could come up with an excuse, but I don’t need to. I spent 7 years in grad school, and some 17 years before that in regular school; this blog is my way of reconditioning myself to love writing for the sake of writing and not to write out of some obligation or feeling that I’m not doing enough.

I work 40 hours a week, and most of that’s with writing in some way, shape, or form. I’m doing plenty.

So, today’s post.

I started reading P. D. James’s Death Comes to Pemberley today. (I promise I’ll write about the Sookie Stackhouse series. I finished it last week and have so many thoughts, but I’m not quite ready to share them.)

The first few pages of Death Comes to Pemberley (this is about as far as I’ve made it) are a clever retelling of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, because that’s what James’s book is based on. I read Austen’s novel ages ago–probably as a teenage and probably next to a pool. I think I was made to get a PhD because one of the challenges I set myself one summer as a teenager was to read all of Austen’s novels. I think I got through most of them, but I don’t really remember. I was a bit of an oddball and a nerd. My dad and I would go to the public library every weekend, and I went through a phase where I’d take out a stack of poetry books just . . . to read in study hall. Like I said, weird kid. I thank my parents for indulging my love of books, even if it meant that I was an overgrown child in grad school for too many years and filled their lives with sympathy stress.

Anyway. I think I mentioned in my previous post that I like to reread books. What I mean by this is a few different things, actually–or, rather, this rereading can come in a few different forms.

I, of course, mean it in the straightforward sense. I’ve reread Rebecca many times, and I’ve reread Barbara Michaels’s oeuvre many, many more times than I’d ever be willing to admit.

But by “I like to reread books,” I also mean “I like to reread books–sometimes immediately after I’ve finished them.”

I’m definitely not proud of this, but I reread both the After series by Anna Todd–you know, the One Direction fanfic that’s actually a really gross (in every sense of that word) depiction of a tremendously abusive and toxic relationship–and the To All the Boys… series by Jenny Han immediately after I finished them. Ironically, I wouldn’t have ever picked either series up if it weren’t for a podcast I started with two friends that will likely never see the light of day. In any case, Han’s series is genuinely good; I relate to Lara Jean’s character in the sense that she’s quite similar to how I was as a teenager; there’s a comfort there that’s coupled with a forced humility–I like laughing at myself, even when someone else is also laughing at me. And Todd’s series is . . . trash, which is probably what makes it compelling. It’s not a series you read to feel good about yourself or other people; it’s a literary car wreck, something you want to look away from because it’s terrible and you know it’s bad for you, but you also feel some inexplicable compulsion to stare it directly in the eyes and engage.

For all my bravado, I’m usually pretty good at picking my battles and not engaging, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t help but engage (and reengage) with the After series. Maybe I’ll delve into that in another blog post, though I’m thinking that’ll have to be something akin to a therapist visit, and it’ll most certainly be something I’ll have to work through repeatedly.

The most straightforward reason I can give for why someone might immediately reread a book is that they feel like they devoured it too quickly the first time so they need to go back and pay closer attention. I’ve done this with a few mystery books–Tana French’s The Witch Elm, for instance–because I’ve finished the book feeling a bit like I didn’t read closely enough and so missed out on some of the author’s brilliance. I immediately begin rereading in hopes of really appreciating what the author has to say and how they’ve said it.

I might also immediately reread a book because I feel like the ending came too soon–like I maybe didn’t get to spend enough time with the characters or in their world, like maybe I’m not ready to leave that fictional universe or to let go of that story. I think this is fairly relatable. I’ve read heaps of tumblr posts and heard from many friends that sometimes finishing a book is a sad experience because, as with any ending, there’s a certain degree of mourning that has to happen for the thing that has been lost. In the case of finishing a book, you might feel compelled to mourn the loss of a particular experience, world, space, or set of characters. Those things still exist on the pages of the book–hey, we write about literature using the present tense because those things continue to exist even after we’re finished with them–and they also exist in our minds. But the thing about finishing a book is that, though the memory of that reading experience stays with us, the experience of being guided through that fictional world ends. The author is, of course, our guide through their fictional world; when we finish a book, we lose that guide. Depending on how we feel about the author’s voice–or, perhaps more appropriately, the narrator–we may feel a greater or lesser sense of loss.

I don’t really Elizabeth Bowen’s or Alix Harrow’s writing styles (these are honestly the first two authors who came to mind; I know they’re very different–so, see, I’m well read!), so I don’t feel a great sense of loss when I leave their fictional worlds, however compelling they might be. But I do tend to like the types of narrators Emily St. John Mandel, Octavia Butler, or (the Janus-faced–multi-faced?) Carolyn Keene offer readers (again, it’s like I’m trying to pick completely unsuitable pairs, but I swear I’m not), so I feel a sense of loss when I’m forced to separate from those narrators because I’ve finished experiencing their physical manifestations–the bound collection of pages on which they live their finite lives.

Someone might argue that those narrators can live on in the reader’s mind just as the fictional world they inhabit gets taken up and finds new life in the reader’s imagination. I like that argument, but I think it overlooks the simple fact that the narrator’s voice isn’t all that matters here. That narrator is a puppet, and the author is the master puppeteer who directs what the narrator does, says, and conveys–that is, how the narrator guides us, the readers, through the story. So, again, when we finish a book, we lose our guide through–sometimes even our friend in–the fictional world.

To wax poetic for a second, when we finish a book, we get to move forward in time while the narrator is stuck back in time. There’s something so sad about leaving someone behind, and it’s especially sad when we have to leave someone in a not-so-pleasant world–even if it’s fictional. It’s the reason a story like Peter Pan is so sad–Peter is a nasty little tyrant, but we (or maybe just I) can’t help but feel bad for him because he’s left behind while everyone he loves and who loves him grows up, because that’s the natural course of action. As one of my grad school peers once pointed out, Barrie’s narrator begins the book by marking Peter as exceptional–as the exception–because he’s the only child who doesn’t grow up.

So, to get back to my point, when we reread a book, we’re trying to recapture and reunite with that guide, that friend, who we’ve had to leave behind because of the simple fact that we outlived them. After all, our lives continue to go on after theirs have ended. The operative word in that first sentence, though, is “try.” There’s a saying about how you can only experience something for the first time once, and I think that’s very true for reading a book. You can only be fully immersed in a narrator’s present moment and fully subject to the will of a narrator one time, and that’s the first time you go through their story with them. In every subsequent journey, you have the advantage (or disadvantage?) of knowing exactly where the story will take you, and so a bit of the mystery–or helplessness, or naiveté, or whatever–is gone.

That said, though, I’m not sure I’d go so far as to argue that you can only experience the story “as it’s truly designed to be experienced” one time–that first time. I’m sure this perspective has something to do with some deep-rooted prejudice I have against attributing meaning or intention to an author. I don’t want to probe that prejudice too much at the moment because I suspect it’s coupled with layers of anxieties that are all somehow connected to four years of graduate coursework spent feeling a bit like the dumbest person in the room.

I’ve read a lot of books (#humblebrag), so, naturally, I’ve read books in a lot of different environments, for a lot of different reasons, and in a lot of different states of mind. I like to think of myself as generally a pretty “good” reader–that is, in the sense that I’m able to appreciate stories for what they are and to suspend my disbelief, sometimes while a very distracting “real world” goes on around me. Again, that’s probably partially because of my training. I’ve read in silent libraries, backseats of cars and on crowded buses, at pools, in bed, in fields, at busy airports, in cabs, at bars and coffee shops, at house parties–and those are just physical places. I’ve also read in diverse situations, including while immensely happy, having just had a fight, while crying, because it’s assigned reading, while heartbroken, while trying to also keep a conversation going, during class, because this book reminds me of something else, while anxious, when very tired, during the middle of an argument, out of curiosity, while waiting, and the list goes on. The sheer volume of reading one has to complete (or at least try to complete) to keep up with a grad-level literature course means that one has to be okay with reading whenever and wherever. I’ve literally carried a book with me on a date and to the grocery story “just in case” I had some extra time.

To get closer to my point, this is all a very long way of saying that there are so many circumstances that can affect our reading experience that it’s impractical for an author or a reader to think that there’s only one way to read a story. Take a relatively broad circumstantial reading category like “beach reading.” There are so many different beach scenarios that an author–even one who’s willing to settle for a very broad interpretation of “beach reading” like “reading near a large body of water with some level of distractions but in a generally relaxed mood”–can’t attempt to predict. I’d honestly be surprised to hear that an author aiming to write “beach reading” would even try to get more specific than that. After all, we don’t really have categories like “tropical beach vacation with friends reading” or “rocky Maine beach on a solo vacation reading.” I doubt an author would attempt to get that specific because, after all, writing is a career and those who do it need to create a product that will be marketable to enough people to make it worthwhile and to secure a living. And for an author who isn’t writing professionally, it hardly seems worth it to even attempt to take the time to try to predict the circumstances that might surround their audience’s experiences with the finished story. There are simply too many variables, so the goal must be, to some degree, at least, to write a story that conveys something to someone in whatever circumstance they happen to be in at the moment they’re reading. That’s a monumental task. An author might, then, have an “ideal” reader in an “ideal” scenario or state of mind or whatever, but they can’t ever write to that “ideal” alone–and that’s even if they’re writing for themselves, since they don’t know what frame of mind they’ll be in when they experience the story again (unless, of course, they don’t intend to experience the story again, in which case nothing matters except the present, which is pretty interesting in itself but not what I’m talking about right now).

But something I’d also like to note is the simple fact that sometimes stories are better–more interesting, more effective, more whatever–the second time we read them. I’ve read books with perfect focus–in a quiet library, for instance–and not found them all that compelling; I’ve also gone back to those books later–once I’m in a slightly different place (mentally, physically, emotionally, without the pressure of reading for class, whatever)–and genuinely enjoyed them. I’ll readily admit that sometimes I’m just a better reader, and sometimes I’m a better reader of a particular type of book than I might be otherwise. As humans, we’re perpetually in flux. Books are more or less stationary objects that don’t really change. We’re what changes, so we might be in a better position to appreciate a book at one point in our lives than at another point.

So, I might reread a book to recapture that first reading experience. But I might also reread a book to have a different reading experience, to meet the narrator when I’m a slightly different person. My goal might be to relearn or refresh myself of the lessons I learned through reading that particular story, but it might also be to gauge how I’ve changed. Each time I reread a story, I have a different reading experience: I notice different things; I feel different feelings; I appreciate different characters or appreciate the same characters differently; I take away different ideas about my current world based on not only how my current world compares to the fictional world but also how my current world compares to the current (now past) world I lived in the previous time(s) I experienced the fictional world.

Oy, that was a lot. And I could complicate this all further by delving deeper into why we read at all–why we sign on to read a story, what we how to get out of the reading experience, and what reading actually does for us. But I already wrote a dissertation, so I’m not going to do that again. Also, we all read for different reasons and we each read different types of stories for different reasons, so there are so many variables that it’s hardly worth it to explore that topic in a really broad sense. Maybe a narrower sense would be more productive, but I’ve already written enough for today.

What I want to say is that I’m definitely not alone in rereading stories. There are ample reasons to reread stories, the most straightforward of which being that it can just be enjoyable to do.

And to think that this post grew out of the idle thought that I’d like to reread Pride and Prejudice. And I’m still only three pages into Death Comes to Pemberley! Well, okay, onward.

xoxo, you know.

[fencesandfrogs]

one nice thing about having poetry on tumblr is i can see my change over time.

i can see when i write a snippet for ‘not this time’ or ‘lake house’ how much i’ve moved on since ‘i don’t want to hate you so i’m trying for indifference’

one sad thing about having poetry on tumblr is i can see my change over time

taylor swift’s new year’s day “please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere” seems like it’s written for me in these moments.

i look at what i’ve written. ‘return to form (fall from grace)’ a poem about becoming myself, about losing myself, about losing too many people all at once.

‘self’ about anchoring about worth about who i want to be. about being unsure. in a way i’m usually not.

every time i write something for ‘debt collection’ all i can think of is how it’s in direct contrast to ‘i don’t want to hate you...’, think of the last time i wrote for ‘echo and narcissus’ and how i was trapped in this cycle of being echo.

‘radio’ and ‘homecalling’ are both poems about leaving, but my choice each time. about trying to find the pieces i dropped, and trying to find where to go with them. ‘victor’ is about needing to find identity in the dropping, what i’m trying to move away from.

‘salt water’ and ‘making love’ and ‘chest pain’ are three poems distinctly about love: about losing what you love, about having love between you and no way to act on it, about people abusing love. and they speak in forgiving terms, can’t raise a harsh word, despite ‘self’ and ‘debt collection’ both begging me to.

that’s what ‘speaking ill’ is about, the struggles of accepting someone you love can hurt: of someone who you thought wouldn’t hurt you breaking the illusion they let you keep.

‘nursery rhyme’ and ‘environmentalism: call this love lust’ are both about that pain. they are older versions of it, loves from long ago, but it’s the same pain, born from a protective place. ‘chariot’ is half a prayer, speaking to love, demanding it to answer for ‘nursery rhyme’ and ‘environmentalism’ and ‘salt water’ and ‘chest pain’ and ‘making love’ and ‘the ancient greeks were on to something’ and ‘echo and narcissus’

and ‘silence’ is a prayer to a god i don’t believe in, from the fear of losing the one thing i have i know belongs to me, the voice i tried to claim in ‘self’

and of course i rarely post full poems on tumblr, so much of this is unseen. the meaning of environmentalism goes unexplained.

(i was twelve the first time i kissed a girl, sucrose; i was twelve, dad, and you called me a coward, dear dad, regarding the hats; her tongue on mine like maple syrup, sucrose; protecting others is the point of my existence, chest pain; love waits in shadows waits for me to name her, chest pain; call her name and pray she is the god who hears me, environmentalism: call this love lust. you see it is there, but i don’t share all the pieces.)

nor is ‘chest pain’ fully complete without the full set: ‘like i was’ and ‘dear dad’ and ‘if you wanted to’ and ‘winter’

(a tin can of hearts where my chest should be, like i was; you had already won, dear dad; my voice stolen by someone i can’t understand, winter; when you make the same jokes about you drinking and you not loving me enough and you being mean to me and you being too angry over and over and over again, they stop sounding like jokes and start falling flat., dear dad. you see there’s more to hurt than heart. it’s really about the voice. but i don’t share all the pieces.)

and that’s the thing, i can find promising moments. i can find ‘the ancient greeks were on to something,’ can draw a clear line of trajectory from ‘wreckage’ to ‘rumination (ruination)’ to ‘making love’ to ‘ancient greeks’ to ‘lake house’ and say: look, this is good.

but i know they weren’t written in that order. i know i am still adding pieces to ‘wreckage’ and ‘r(r)’, that i can’t find any more words for ‘ancient greeks’ and ‘speaking ill’

anyway. i don’t know where i was going with this. there are three points, all malformed and unrelated.

[cabinofimagines]

Hi can you do a Percy x reader where she writes poetry and he is just a proud bf who reads in front of people cause he thinks that she's incredible. If you have him actually reading it in the imagine @ohmygodssomeoneactually is a side blog for poetry I write.

Words: 1341Requested, 

Here we have another request done! I couldn’t find any poetry on the blog you suggested? So, instead I wrote some myself, please go easy on it. 

ALSO OPEN IT ON OUR BLOG PAGE FOR THE FULL EXPERIENCE. if you’re on pc that is because tumblr mobile don’t BE EDITED THE RIGHT WAY WHY

Feedback and comments are welcome!! Hope you enjoy!

-Asnyox

Love is Poetry

You have a secret. It’s nothing big, not as if you are trying to overthrow the gods or something. You didn’t kill anyone, nor is your life at stake. No, you’re secret is more personal. It wouldn’t be the worst when people would, you know, find out, but it’s not that you want people to know.  Because then people will get expectations, they wanna see something, read it. When someone finds out you draw, they want you to draw them. When someone finds out you write, they want to read.  You have a secret and you are totally fine with keeping it that way. 

Except, your boyfriend begs to differ. You write poetry. It’s just, you put a lot of thought and emotions in your poems. If people were to read them, just like that? It would embarrass you massively. Obviously, he bugs you to Hades and back again about your writing.  

Percy loves your writing. Whenever you let him read something he gets all excited and just looks like a puppy who just found a ball. He reads you work, despite of his dyslexia, and compliments you on it. Not much critics coming from this guy because he thinks it is already amazing you can write this! 

‘(Y/n)! I swear, your work is amazing. Why don’t you let anyone else read it? You keep asking for criticism, but you know I can’t give it to you.’ Percy pulled you closer, letting your head lean on his shoulder. You smelled his salty smell as campfires songs were sung in the background. The fire burned bright, a smile formed on your face.

‘Perce, you know it’s difficult. Even if I had the guts to speak in front of a group of people -let alone all of camp- I don’t think people would like it that much?’ You sat up a bit, leaning even closer to Percy, ‘Camp is more of a place to have fun and sing songs! No one has time to read my ever depressing poetry! People are here to not have English class!’ You gestured your hands around as if to prove the point. 

‘I know, I know. It’s just so sad that your wonderful work is kept from the world!’ You shot him a pleading look, just wanting to life in the tranquility of this moment. In the arms of you significant other, bathing in the glow of the campfire and letting the soreness of training fade away. Percy however decided to ignore your stare.

‘I mean, have you even read your own work!’ Oh gods, seems like you need you need to call in the big guns. Grabbing his chin you made him look to you. You put your lips on his, one hand now behind his head. Percy started moving his lips against you after a second, and you felt a smile form on his lips. After a few seconds you moved apart. Once more you shot him your pleading look, making Percys’ grin widen.

‘Okay, okay I will shut up for now.’ ‘Thank you!’

  ——————-

‘Hey, (Y/n), your writing is pretty good. Never knew you wrote.’ Will told you as you were passing by. You turned around and looked him in the eyes.

‘What?’ You asked him startled. How did he know? You never told anyone except Percy and some of you siblings, and they all swore not to tell anyone. 

‘Percy is reciting some of your stuff in the amphitheater?’ Will looked at you questioningly. 

‘That little b-’ You started making your way to the amphitheater. 

Who did he think he was? He PROMISED you not to tell anyone and now he straight up decides to do this? The closer you came to the theater, the more people stopped by you and gave you a little complement of some sorts. However, you were way too agitated to register any of this and as you came closer you heard Percy voice. 

‘Okay, okay, the next one is called, uhm, Ashes to Ashes. Again, written by my wonderful girlfriend! All praise and criticism to her!  Let’s go, ergh… 

My love, why must thou leave me,How the kiss of the sun leaves me,When the clouds hug thee?

My love, why must thou go,Go and life thine life,Without the presence of me?’

You stormed your way on the podium. ‘PERSEUS JACKSON WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!’ Percy eyes widened and his mouth fell open, loss for words. Just for a second though, because he turned to the audience. 

‘Everyone! Give it up for my girlfriend, writer of poems, (Y/n)!!’ Oh gods why did he do this. But sure enough, everyone was applauding you. Nothing fancy, but they seemed to actual mean there applaud. You now realised these people had heard your poetry - judging by the one Percy was reciting, older poetry. You felt your body heat up and your heart beat fast. Oh dears, they knew? This was embarrassing to say the least. 

‘Uhm, thank you?’ You said, feeling their eyes on you. Percy noticed your discomfort and shooed the remaining crowd away. Percy moved to hug you, but you stepped away. 

‘I am not done with you! You promised to not tell anyone!’ You looked Percy in the eyes as you hit him in his stomach, the overwhelming nervousness bringing tears to your eyes. ‘I am sorry, but it had to be done in some way or the other. At least people know now? Please forgive me?’ Percy gave you his big sea-green eyes and opened his arms. You shook your head, however you moved in to hug him. 

Percy arms closed around you and he held you close, as he softly patted your shoulder and head. ‘(Y/n), I mean it, you are amazing. Don’t ever think otherwise.’ You took a shaky breath and relaxed to his touch. Percy had good intentions, that’s certainly true. 

As you moved out of his hug, you looked him in the eyes. ‘Perce, do you know what you were reading to them? The last poem?’ He shook his head and you sighed. ‘It was, this is embarrassing, okay, it was a poem I wrote after your second or third year at camp? You went back to your home and I missed you,’ You couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, so you looked to your left instead, ‘I know we weren’t a thing yet, but hey. Uhm, did you read all of it yet?’ he shook his head and looked at you with soft eyes and a smile.

‘I would love to though. Or would you give me the honour of you reading it to me?’ You laughed and grabbed his hands. ‘I will not, I would literally melt from the embarrassment. However you are allowed to read the rest of it, on your own, you dork.’ You handed him the notebook he was reading out of and started to walk away backwards.‘I’ve got some business with the apollo kids, so see you later perce!’ Percy nodded and waved at you. When you were gone he opened the notebook on the page where he left off. 

Ashes to ashes

My love, why must thou leave me,How the kiss of the sun leaves me,When the clouds hug thee?

My love, why must thou go,Go and life thine life,Without the presence of me?’

My love, I shan’t forget thee,Thee shall be a reminiscence.My love, I shan’t cry,My tears do not give thee virtue.

However, my love, I shall await thine return with my whole being, Or for better words, with a fragment of my being Because, my love, I am unable to be whole without thee

Who will have the last word in our conversation? My love, I do not want to inaugurate the endless goodbyes,Because, my love, God’s blessing is already upon thee.

Therefore, my love, I shall pronounce ‘see ye later’ in lieu!

Gods, you were so corny back then. Yet, he loved you so much. 

-Asnyox

[kasu-meow]

May I, one day, become your ideal heroine

-A Shizuku love story-

Summary:  Ōsaka Shizuku is a first-year transfer student currently enrolled in Nijigasaki High, where she moved to pursue her dream of being a school idol. However, after the School Idol Club was fractured, each member went her own way and Shizuku decides to use her passion for acting to give better performances; after starting to train in the theatre club, one day in a deserted hallway, she meets her destiny...

Pairing: Shizuku x Anata-chan (ShizuAnata)

Word count: 5960

A/N: As some of you might’ve guessed, this is a songfic based on Shizuku’s song, “Anata no Risou no Heroine.” This is the first thing I’ve ever written for the Love Live fandom, so I’m super nervous posting it >_< I’ve already posted it on A03 if you want to check it out, I would be really glad if you left a comment telling me what you thought about it <3 hope you enjoy! 

“Ouch!”

 “After school, when everyone has left, in the corner of a hallway,

the dance hall is my own - a stage no one else knows of.”

 With her back against the cold floor, Shizuku found herself staring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and let herself rest for a second, sweat running down her forehead as her chest rose and fell. Shizuku knew it was late – she didn’t know how late, but she couldn’t hear any noise coming from the nearby theatre, and that was indication enough that most students had gone home, but not her. No, for the last few weeks she had made the hallway her own private dance floor instead, a stage where she could practice as much as she needed.

She couldn’t go back to the School Idol Club yet, after all.

Shizuku thought back at what had happened; they couldn’t put their creative differences aside, and that drove them apart. They couldn’t become one, so Shizuku had to practice more.

She started being a school idol because she wanted to improve her acting and stage presence, but something odd happened: she found herself enjoying it more than she thought she would. She looked forward to the afternoons of practice in the club, and she didn’t want to give up just because they were all different people. She just needed to get better, so she could bring more to the club. She could use her acting skills to give a better performance, she was sure of it!

That’s why she worked as hard as she could in the theatre club during the day, and she did her best by herself, practicing her dancing and singing in the hallway when everyone else was gone. Just a little more, and she could…

“Uhm, excuse me? Are you okay?!”

A voice suddenly called for her, and it made her eyes open abruptly. Her body reflexively shot up; was it a teacher? Did she get in trouble? She was ready to bow her head and apologize, but…

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I startle you? It’s just, you were lying there and you weren’t moving, and I thought I’d heard someone fall down… did you hit your head? Are you okay?”

It was a student she had never seen before, which wasn’t that surprising, considering how big Nijigasaki High was. The girl standing before her had a cool and unbothered vibe, but her eyes had a hint of concern to them. She was staring at Shizuku with her brows furrowed, and that’s when she realized she had just been gaping at her like an idiot without answering.

“O-Oh! Uhm, I’m fine, don’t worry! I was just… resting?” She stuttered, while blushing. Why was she so nervous? “I apologize if I worried you… I promise I’m alright.”

The girl sighed. “That’s good to hear!” She smiled. It was the brightest smile Shizuku had ever seen in her life. “Are you from the theatre club? You guys must practice hard…”

“Well… sort of!” Shizuku let out a light laugh; it’s not like she was lying! “By the way… I’m Ōsaka Shizuku, I’m a first-year transfer student. What’s your name?”

The girl smiled again as she took Shizuku’s hand in hers and shook it a little. “I’m a second-year. My name is…”

 “It was a day like any other. I was practicing by myself,

and covered in sweat, when you happened to pass by…”

 “That’s such a coincidence, though!  Ah-ah, who would’ve thought you were one of the ‘lost members’ of the School Idol Club?”

Shizuku blushed slightly, as she walked side-by-side with the dark-haired girl. It was an incredible coincidence. There is no way she could’ve predicted that the girl standing by her side would become their club president in the span of a few days. When she was practicing her play on stage and she saw Her and Kasumi in the audience (and Ayumu, but she didn’t know her yet at the time) she almost thought her heart would stop beating. Or start beating so hard it would come out of her chest. One of the two options.

Shizuku had no idea why she was feeling this way. Surely, the fact that she was a senpai was a bit intimidating, but she had no problems with her upperclassmen in the theatre club, or the other members of the School Idol Club. But this girl, who had gotten so concerned about her even though she was just a stranger at the time, who loved school idols so much she single-handedly managed to bring all the members back and find new ones, she was… special.

“Oh, I just remembered! I started working on your songs.” That snapped Shizuku out of her thoughts. The songs! “I’m almost finished with Ayumu’s, and I was planning on working on yours next…”

That was another reason why Shizuku thought she was amazing. They had asked their president to write songs for each of them to enter the school idol competition, and unsurprisingly, she was already done with the first one. She had never heard her play anything, but she was sure it would be… wait, had she just said she wanted to work on her song next?

“M-my song?” She uttered.

“Yes! I already know a bit about you, but I was wondering what kind of song you would like me to write. I want to get to know you better so I can write a good song that really feels like… it’s yours.”

That got Shizuku blushing. She wanted to get to know her better? She knew it was just about the song, but there was a fairly big part of her that was hoping it would lead to something more. She didn’t know what her feelings were yet, but she couldn’t ignore them. She also wanted to get to know her president better, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she could do something more for her.

While the perspective of receiving a song specifically written for her by her favourite upperclassman was thrilling, Shizuku wanted to do something herself. She had been practicing a lot lately, in the club and in her spare time. She learnt a lot in the theatre club every single day, and she wanted to put that knowledge to good use, for the club. Wasn’t that the reason she left in the first place? So she could pursue her passions and find a way to combine them, so she could find a way to become more useful to both her clubs.

“Senpai!” The words left her mouth all on their own, as Shizuku’s feet came to a stop. “I know you are writing the songs and I appreciate it a lot. We all do. It’s really kind of you, you’re always supporting us and doing so much for us and it’s not like I don’t trust you, I just…” “You want to help me write it?” She didn’t look offended at all. That was a relief. “I wouldn’t mind that at all. How about this? Since the main part I need to help with is the music, how about you write the lyrics?”

“The lyrics?” She pondered it for a bit. She could write lyrics! At least, she thought she could. “Yes! That would be great. I would love to.”

“Great! Then it’s settled!” And with that, she flashed Shizuku one of her signature smiles.

She let out a breath. She could do this. Working with the older girl was even better than she could’ve hoped. This song wouldn’t be just hers, but theirs. Now, she just had to figure out what she would write. She had never written scenarios in the theatre club, but she did have some experience with writing poetry from her literature class.

When Shizuku got home that night, she sat at her desk and looked at the blank paper. As she played with her pencil, a familiar face made its way in her mind, and she could hardly think of anything else after that. She took a deep breath and started writing. She looked over at the words she had just jotted down: “Your ideal heroine.”

 “Every time we talk, a feeling in my chest starts overflowing,

it’s like watching a good comedy, and I'm enveloped in happiness.”

 “Aaaand that’s a wrap!” Ai yelled excitedly.

The School Idol Club had been hard at practice for the last couple of days, in prospect of the competition. There was only one week left to perfect their choreographies and practice their singing, so it wasn’t a strange occurrence that even after rehearsals had ended, two or three members stayed behind to get in a little extra practice. Maybe Kasumi felt like she was on a roll that day and decided to make more progress, or maybe Karin got fired up after seeing Setsuna practice and said she didn’t want to lose.

Shizuku was usually among the members who stayed behind, practicing hard to make sure her song, that she had created with her upperclassman, was as perfect as possible.

“Are you going to stay behind today too, Shizuku?” A voice called her.

It was Her. Even if she wasn’t a school idol, she always made sure to watch their practice closely and cheer them on, and she often stayed behind whenever anyone else was staying, too.

“Ah, yes. There is only one week left before the competition, after all, and I think my choreography still needs some work… I really want to win, so we can go to the School Idol Festival.”

“Not fair, Shizuko! If you become too good… no, Kasumin is the best idol in the universe! I cannot let myself be upstaged! I will stay behind and practice, too.”

“But, KasuKasu! You, Rina-ri and I have plans, remember? We were gonna go to Harajuku and eat crêpes!”

“Aaaaaah no, don’t call me KasuKasu! No more Kasu, it’s forbidden! Call me Kasumin!”

“Rina-chan Board says: sad…”

“R-Rinako…! Ugh, fine. Just because we already had plans, and Kasumin always keeps her word. But Shizuko, you just wait! I will show you what I’m capable of tomorrow!”

“Sure…” Shizuku chuckled. She stayed silent during most of the conversation, watching her friends make a ruckus. Thinking about them, she found herself smiling without meaning to: she truly treasured her time in the school idol club, and she couldn’t help but smile thinking about their daily little arguments, and how unique each and every one of them was.

She looked over their practice room, and aside from Ai, Rina and Kasumi playing around, she noticed that everyone was kind of in a hurry, particularly Ayumu, who was frantically whispering something to their club president in a corner. Curiosity got the best of Shizuku, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about. The club president looked… nervous? The conversation looked very intimate, which only made Shizuku wish she was part of it more. An unfamiliar feeling found its way to her chest, and it made her insides hurt a little bit. Was she… jealous of Ayumu?

Suddenly, Shizuku’s hands flew to her face and she smacked herself a little, while simultaneously turning around to prevent anyone from realizing she was having an internal crisis of sorts. The realization, or rather the wish not to realize how big and scary her feelings had become, brought her back to reality and she was grateful for that, at least. She had to concentrate on her practice, and she couldn’t let negative feelings produced by her own imagination affect her performance, or even worse, her relationship with her fellow school idols. Ayumu was a really sweet girl, and Shizuku liked her a lot! She was kind, considerate, hard-working…

“So, it looks like it’s going to be just you and me today.” The club president flashed her a smile. Had she gotten lost in her thoughts again? That happened often, lately.

“What about Setsuna-san? She always stays late!” Shizuku inquired, a slight hint of concern in her voice. No one loved being a school idol more than Setsuna did, and she showed it every day at practice. For her not to be there, it must have been a pretty big deal.

“She said she had something to do with her parents. You know they are a little… strict. Then, Karin has a photoshoot, Kanata is going to check on Haruka, who had a slight fever this morning. She was worried sick. Emma is face-timing her siblings tonight, and Ayumu is, uh…” The older girl appeared unsure for a moment, “picking up her costume from the tailor? …Yes, she had a couple last-minute adjustments made; she was very excited about the details she added! Then, well, you heard about Kasumi, Rina and Ai.”

Shizuku tried her best not to think about the glimpse of conversation she had caught between the club president and Ayumu, and she tried her best not to connect it to her upperclassman’s uncertainty and light pink-coloured cheeks.

“O-oh, but senpai! You don’t need to stay behind just for me. You should go home and rest…”

“No way! I love watching your performances, Shizuku. You’re so… expressive. Besides, we wrote this song together,” she chuckled “so I really want to hear you sing it. Please, let me cheer you on.”

And how could she refuse?

 What neither of them realized, was that a certain peach-haired girl had been quietly listening in on their conversation, and she was making a mental note to update her accomplices on the “progress” they had made that day, while she smiled to herself.

She looked at her best friend in the world, whom she had known since they were children, and whispered to herself: “What am I going to do with those two…?”

 “Unlike all the times before, my practicing alone

doesn't feel so harsh ever since I've met you.”

 As the date of the competition drew closer and closer, Shizuku’s anxiety grew stronger and stronger.

It was the day before the dreaded competition, or, to be more specific, it was the night before the competition. Shizuku felt like she had done everything she could in terms of practice; she had stayed late as much as she could, and she put all of her love in her song. Why was she so nervous, then?

She was excited at the perspective of competing for the School Idol Festival, but she was afraid of making a mistake. What if she messed up the choreography? What if her lyrics were simply not good enough? The perspective was frightening.

Deep down, though, she knew it wasn’t the only frightening thing that could await her on the next day. The song she had written… it was deeply related to her senpai. One could say her feelings for the upperclassman were the true protagonists of the composition. And while she had seen Shizuku practice her dance with the other girls and she had heard her practice singing some of the tougher parts at times, she had never heard the complete version.

Once she heard that, there weren’t any doubts in Shizuku’s mind that she would immediately catch on, and she feared, no, dreaded her reaction. The song was pretty obviously about her feelings towards the upperclassman, but what if she didn’t feel the same way? While she did treat Shizuku with kindness, that was just one of the traits of her character. She was kind to everyone, and she cared about everyone in the School Idol Club. Shizuku was probably not even the one she was closest to, that would have been Ayumu. And she usually spent the most time with Kasumi anyway.

Sigh. Shizuku doubted she had a chance with someone as great as her. She didn’t know why, but she was overcome with the sudden need of hearing her voice; she was always so considerate, she would have probably known what to say to calm Shizuku’s nerves.

And just as that thought crossed her mind, her phone started ringing, a familiar face appearing on the screen, making Shizuku go from pensive to flustered in the span of a second.

“H-hello? Is something the matter, senpai? You are not the type to call so late.” Shizuku said as she picked up her phone.

“Hi! No, I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. How are you feeling? Nervous about the competition?”

Had she just said she wanted to hear her voice? Shizuku forgot how to breathe for a solid minute. Then, she remembered she still had to answer.

“Definitely, yes… I’m just… afraid, I suppose.” Shizuku whispered, voice suddenly getting smaller.

“Afraid?” Replied the older girl, a surprised tone in her voice. She had accounted for anxiety, but not for fear. “What are you afraid of?”

“Where to begin? I’m afraid I will make a mistake and ruin everything… after all, I’m not talented like Setsuna-san, or cheerful like Ai-san, or… good-looking like Karin-san…” She said the last part so softly, she wasn’t sure the other girl had heard her.

“That’s nonsense, Shizuku. You’re not Ai or Setsuna, you’re you and you have your own charm. Wasn’t that the point of performing as solo idols? So you could find your own way to shine… I love your performances because they are full of life and incredibly expressive. Your movements are so captivating I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Shizuku could do nothing but listen, dumbfounded, as she heard the girl she was in love with go on and on.

“Besides, you’re not alone, Shizuku. You might have the stage for yourself, but there is going to be nine of us there with you, who have your back. No matter what happens, I’m going to be in the first row, cheering you on. I will be there with you.”

Yes, please be with me. “Senpai… there is something I want to tell you tomorrow. With my performance.” Shizuku took a deep breath. “Please look at me, and listen to my song.”

After a few seconds of silence, the answer came clear on the other line. “I will.”

 “The expressiveness I've since lacked, I now have.

The curtain is rising quietly on the second chapter of my story.”

 The Nijigasaki High School Idol Club had made plans to meet at the entrance of the school, where the minibus they had rented awaited them. They loaded it with everything they might need, other than their costumes and props, and they all rode it together to the site of the competition.

When they arrived, the club president, followed closely by Ayumu, went to check them in and get their badges. Even though it was very early in the morning and it was still a couple hours before the competition started, there were already plenty of people outside. Shizuku knew a direct ticket to the main stage of the School Idol Festival was a very big deal and an incredibly demanded prize, but her imagination had failed to predict just how many people would turn up to witness some of the most famous school idols in the country compete against each other.

Shizuku started feeling self-conscious again. Ever since they stepped off the bus, she kept spotting notorious school idols here and there, she was sure some were even on TV at some point. Did she even have what it takes to compete with such amazing groups?

No, she couldn’t let herself have those kinds of thoughts again. She recalled her phone call from yesterday and reminded herself of the fact that she was not alone. All her friends were there… and She was there, too. She was supporting her, and she promised that she would listen to what Shizuku had to say… so, she had nothing to be scared of.

“Sorry everyone! There was a line at the registration desk…”

Her senpai. She loved their club president more than she loved anyone else in the entire world. She clutched the hems of her skirt tightly as they made her way to their dressing room. It was fairly big and well-lit, with enough make-up stations for all of them.

The atmosphere was heavy, and thick enough to be cut with a knife; as each one of them went off doing her own thing, Shizuku stepped in one of the dressing areas. She finished getting dressed and took one last look at her costume as she twirled around in front of the mirror, before she stepped out. She let herself smile a little; she loved her dress. Now, only hair and make-up were left, maybe she should ask Karin for help? Her hair always looked amazing.

As she left her dressing space, she locked eyes with their club president, and looked away immediately without really meaning to.

“Wow…” said the older girl, “just… wow.” She sighed.

Shizuku grew more and more self-conscious under her gaze. “Do you like it…?” She asked, referencing her costume.

“I love it. It really suits you...” she replied, finally tearing her gaze away from Shizuku, and focusing it on anything else, really.

Shizuku’s cheeks grew a deep burgundy colour as she grabbed her skirt again, and her senpai covered her face with her hands. What was happening? Shizuku was sure her brain had short-circuited.

“What are you doing?” Kasumi inquired loudly.

“No, Kasumi-chan! I told you to leave them alone!”

Shizuku turned around, and she could see the older girl desperately trying to stop the younger one from interrupting their moment, as the others quietly spied from behind one of the dressing areas. That got Shizuku even more flustered.

“But why, Ayumu-senpai? Shizuko, what are you two doing?” She asked, once again. Then, when no one answered, she loudly gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to upstage me again! Senpai, are you plotting something to make her win?? Senpai, you should be on Kasumin’s side!!”

“KasuKasu, let’s go for a walk, okay?”

“Ai-senpai, why? I don’t feel like walking! U-Uh? Why are you dragging me away? Shizuko!!”

“…So, where is that schedule? I wanted to check when each of you is going to go up on stage…” said the club president.

The moment was broken, and everyone slowly went back to getting ready. They helped each other with their hair and make-up, tension visibly down after Kasumi’s outburst, and they assembled the props they might need for their individual live shows; specifically, Kanata’s small replica of a bed. Shizuku thought it would take them at least an hour to get it together, but considering it wasn’t a real bed made for real sleep, assembling it was much easier, granted it wasn’t as stable as a real bed should’ve been.

While they tried to stop Kanata from destroying her prop by taking a quick nap on it, a staff member came by to tell everyone to finish getting ready: the competition was about to start. As if on cue, everyone started looking nervous again.

“Alright… I guess I will see you guys from the audience. I have a front-row seat.”

“It’s true, you will be cheering us on… I hope I see you in the audience, that would make me less nervous!”

“Ayumu, I’m sure you’ll do great! As will all of you. You practiced so hard, and I honestly believe you have what it takes to bring this home. I will be supporting you as hard as I can!”

“Ah-ah, that’s our club president, alright. You made my anxiety disappear with your pep talk.”

“Senpai, make sure you watch me closely! I want to know everything you loved about Kasumin’s performance!”

“Ah-ah, sure, Kasumi. I will look at all of you closely.”

After giving them one last look, the upperclassman opened the door and gently waved before making her way to the audience. Shizuku could’ve sworn their eyes met for a second. She had no time to think about it though, as they were all about to head to the backstage as well. It was time.

 “I want to be one who can bring a smile to someone else,

but most of all, I want to bring a smile to you.”

 All ten members of the Nijigasaki High School Idol Club were behind the stage along with all the other participants, anxiously waiting for the results to be announced.

All their performances had gone well, and they hadn’t made a single mistake; in fact, Shizuku thought hers was her best performance yet. Regardless of that fact, she felt as nervous as ever; however, she knew that wasn’t entirely because of the competition. When she was on stage, she had not only been able to spot her senpai, but she made eye contact with her more than once; one might have said she directly sung her song to her. Nevertheless, her senpai hadn’t mentioned it at all, and she didn’t seem to have caught on the fact that the heavy words Shizuku had written from her heart were, in fact, all about her.

Decided to take her mind off the hurtful thoughts, she looked over to the other members, who looked just as nervous as she was.

Every single one of them was special and unique in some way. Ai was outgoing and her puns were sure to cheer you up at any time; Setsuna was a school idol and the student council president, she had never seen anyone work quite as hard as she did or, for the matter, love something as much as she did. Kasumi liked to put up a big fight about how she was the cutest and they were all her rivals, but deep down, she really cared about her upperclassmen and the school idol club. Heck, she had stayed behind all by herself to wait for the other members to come back, and she had fought all by herself to make sure the club wasn’t shut down. Rina had a hard time expressing her emotions, but she tried her hardest and her Rina-chan board was an incredibly cute and ingenious device. Karin was the best-looking girl she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life, and she was also a caring and nice upperclassman. Emma was the most caring one of the group by far, she made everyone feel at home with her reassuring smiles and she had quite the appetite. Kanata was always sleepy, but she always came through when the situation required it, and she loved her little sister more than anything in the entire world. Last but not least, Ayumu was someone you could always count on, she was sweet and treasured her friends the most.

And Shizuku? She wasn’t sure about what made her special before, but after endless days of practice at the theatre club, and then more practice by herself in the hallways, she found out. Or at least, she thought she had found out.

Shizuku had the spirit of an actress, and the love of an idol. She had great stage presence and she knew how to tell a story, every performance became so captivating that her audience was pulled from their seats into the story, and she knew just what words to use to make her feelings come across, to make her audience understand. She made good use of the acting techniques she had learnt in the theatre club, but that didn’t mean she loved acting more than she loved being a school idol. The act of loving itself was part of being one; school idols love what they do so deeply, and they shine so brightly, it’s inevitable for their audience to feel that love, too.

Shizuku had always thought that. But until recently, she hadn’t been able to grasp that love, and convey it to her audience the way she wanted to. Then, one day in a deserted hallway, she found just what she had been looking for. And what that love was…

“Oh, it looks like they are about to announce the winner!” The club president exclaimed.

Another pang of nervousness made its way to Shizuku’s chest, and she was unable to hear a single word the conductor was saying until, at the last second…

“And the winner is… Ōsaka Shizuku, representing the Nijigasaki High School Idol Club!”

The world stopped for a second, as all the members jumped around and congratulated Shizuku. In between “We are going to perform on the main stage!”s and “You were so amazing, Shizuku!”s, she didn’t even realize she was crying from happiness.

Everything went really fast after that; they celebrated in their dressing room, they packed up their things, and they went back to their club room to have a second, but proper celebration.

As the party went on, Shizuku started to feel like there was something missing. She knew she should have been feeling happy about winning the competition, of course, and she was! To a degree. However, her mind couldn’t help but drift back to the upperclassman who had stolen her heart; she had seen her have a pretty intense back-and-forth with Ayumu, and ever since then, she had been quietly sitting in a corner of the room by herself. Since Shizuku had been blatantly staring at her the entire time, their eyes inevitably ended up meeting here and there, but the upperclassman always diverted her gaze so fast Shizuku thought she might end up hurting her neck at some point.

Maybe Shizuku had gotten it all wrong, and the older girl had, in fact, understood the meaning of her song. She probably didn’t like her that way, and that was why she was avoiding her now. Had Shizuku actually made her uncomfortable with her attention and her unwavering gaze?

She started feeling sick. She had to get out of there.

Unable to contain her feelings, she made up an excuse and headed for the hallway. She walked all the way to the theatre club in an attempt to calm down, but when her eyes landed on a special spot, the tears started spilling out again. It was that one hallway. The place her and her senpai had first met. Had her legs subconsciously brought her there?

“Shizuku! I finally found you…”

She quickly dried her tears. What was She doing there? Had she followed her out? She turned around and indeed, there she was, hands in her pockets, nervously looking left and right, everywhere but directly at Shizuku.

“W-what is it, senpai?” Shizuku said, failing to hide her emotions.

“I, uh… I just saw you storm out, and I wanted to see if everything was okay…”

Shizuku smiled bitterly. Of course, that was all it was.

“I’m fine, I just…” it took her a second to recall the excuse she had given the girls before she left. “I needed to use the restroom.”

“Oh, I see.” The other girl replied, still unconvinced. A second of awkward silence passed, and she decided against pressing Shizuku on the subject. “I wanted to congratulate you, by the way; I realized I still hadn’t. Your performance was… beyond outstanding. Your lyrics were beautiful.”

“Thank you, senpai… it means a lot to hear you say that, but I really have to go.” Shizuku chuckled drily and turned around abruptly, without waiting for a reply. Unable to stand the upperclassman’s presence any longer, she started walking.

Just as Shizuku reached the end of the hallway and was about to turn the corner, her feet were brought to a sudden stop.

“I want more!”

What was that? Had she said it out loud? Had she imagined it? It took a second for her brain to register the fact that she was not the one who had spoken, and that the words had come from someone else. She turned around once again, and almost fell back from shock when she found herself face to face with the girl who had been occupying all of her thoughts and torturing her heart.

“What…?” “I said I want more!” Repeated the older girl, without letting Shizuku finish. She paused for a moment to take a short breath, as if she was bracing herself for something. “I heard your lyrics. I listened, like you asked. I don’t want you to be just a kōhai; you… you are not just another underclassman to me.”

Shizuku felt like she could faint at any moment; her legs were shaking, her throat felt dry and she clutched her shirt with both hands, as she listened. What was happening?

“When I heard your song I… I knew you felt the same way as I do, but… I guess I was just scared. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, how do you even approach a subject like that? And I was afraid you were going to tell me I just misunderstood or something. But I don’t want to hide it anymore; I like you, Shizuku… I think I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be just a senpai to you, and I don’t want you to be just a kōhai.”

Shizuku didn’t know where she found the strength to do what she did next, it was like her feet moved on their own; in one motion, she stepped forward and hugged the girl standing in front of her, who awkwardly reciprocated.

“I don’t want to be just an underclassman to you, either.” Shizuku said, her voice muffled by the embrace. “I have feelings for you too, senpai. A-and I…” she stumbled over her words, she didn’t know if it was the anxiety or the happy tears. “I was hoping you would notice… that you would listen… to my song.”

They stayed there for a while, hugging, and then laughing and talking, hand in hand, in that familiar spot, the place where they had found love. Shizuku felt like she was on cloud nine, her heart fluttering every time her eyes met her girlfriend’s. Girlfriend. She still couldn’t believe she would get to call her that, now. It was like the perfect ending to Shizuku’s play, her quest finally fulfilled, and she would now get to spend days of eternal happiness in her lover’s embrace.

It might have been a little cheesy, but Shizuku felt just like one of those heroines she was used to playing, the ones who find true love and live happily ever after. But she wasn’t just any heroine; she was your ideal heroine. And that fact alone was more than enough to make her happy.

 “May I, one day, become your ideal heroine…

I'm bad at ad lib-ing, so lead me through with a nice scenario.

The lines I memorized over and over just don't come when I look in your eyes.

So, for now, please let me perform beside you simply as a junior partner.”

 “Ouch! You stepped on my foot…”

“Ssh! They’ll hear us!”

“I can’t believe they are finally together… I worked so hard to make it happen…”

“What do you mean, Ayumu-senpai?”

“Ah-ah, you were the only one who didn’t notice, KasuKasu!”

“My name’s not KasuKasu, call me Kasumin!”

“Ayumu-chan, are you crying?”

“Just a little bit!”

“They are so sweet… we should leave them alone now, though. We can congratulate them tomorrow.”

“You are right, Karin-senpai. Back to the clubroom, everyone! This is not over, we have to start preparing for the School Idol Festival now!”

“Aye-aye, student council president…”

“Right, the School Idol Festival…” Ayumu snuck one last glance at the happy couple. She looked at the face of her childhood friend, her best friend in the whole world; her eyes were light up, no trace of anything but happiness and love in her gaze. She smiled. “Thank you, Shizuku.”

[entuzijazam]

A heartfelt letter to myself; to @entuzijazam

This year was so bad for me because a lot of small things happened that I let grow into something bigger. First, I got my heart broken by the person I was in love with. Now I don’t have any normal connection with that person, despite still appreciating the person he is, despite what happened between us that was so hard and heart-breaking at the end (maybe it’s better for, both, me and him this way). Then my dear grandma passed away…after 3 years of agony watching her shut away.

I became so filled with anger and bitterness…I let my pain and sadness swallow me whole, bite by bite, because I preferred the familiarity of pain rather than pain of fighting against those feelings. Somehow, I couldn’t find the energy.

I hurt my friends because I was hurt (bc I am hurting). I almost lost my best friend because of my reckless behavior. Fortunately, I got her back after sincere talk. I don’t want to be a burden, I cannot be a burden, but lately I’m a burden on myself.

Yeah, I do have those moment of fleeting, extraordinary joy, of pure Enthusiasm. Those can last for days, too. But somehow these feelings wash over me again.

My self-esteem has never been lower. I indulged in fleeting connections because I thought I’ll get temporary feelings out of it. It only made it worse. I’ve been writing this for the second time (bc the first time Tumblr was so rude and went back amidst writing this) and i dont want to make this perfect, cause its not poetry i am not trying to romanticise anything. This is just my state at the end of this year (2019). No reverse, no hiding, no romanticising, no exaggerating. I’ve been, also, polluted by this one particular toxic mindset for over 3 years now, and I know i’m gonna break out of it really soon…but I am afraid that the sudden change and freedom will be overwhelming for me. However, I cannot wait. I already have plans, and i know that my mental state will be 50 %, if not more, better solely because of it. I cannot explain the bitterness as a consequence of all of this. I have always been this strong child that could endure anything. Literally anything..that life throw at me. And being told that i dont have any life experience has been hurtful for me, too. Now i feel like i am constantly searching for someone to protect me from this world, cause ive been strong for a very long time as a kid, and in early adolescence. I am truly lost. Not lost in the way that I don’t see future for me. I do see it. I know I’ll make it after all, despite anything. But i am lost in the way of what i feel, if i will be okay, and how long it would take me to achieve this state of being okay…..let alone, being happy.

I know this sounds like a random rant shit post, but I promise that it isn’t. I wouldn’t be thinking these thoughts every single night for like 8 months so far. I wouldn’t be hurting for so long. I didn’t let myself heal. I don’t know how I let myself believe to be so incapable to start the healing process. Always in my mind hoping that the person who loved (air quotes loved) me will come back, that something unexpected would happen and a superhero in shiny armor will come to rescue. :) Well, life doesn’t work like that. And it’s difficult for me to explain to anyone what happened to me…It especially breaks my heart to hear my mother over the phone sick worried because she knows (hears) that I’ve been crying again..and that this got out of hand again. I promise myself to love myself in the new year…to at least try so. To let myself let go, to let myself fall a hundred times and learn from it. To laugh at a silly dish that turned out wrong, bc “for fuck’s sake, I cannot cook anything!” instead of bursting into crying ‘cause I made yet another mistake. I’ll teach myself, I’ll love myself. I love to imagine that our love depends only on love of another. But I know this isn’t so. I crave constant attention, and this also knows to be a problem. I’ll try  to humble myself down, treat myself. Ask for help. I know I need to do this.

This Tumblr helped me so so soo much over the years. And I couldn’t be more grateful to be part of a community like this. Maybe someone would call this “my feelings being all over the place again, me not being able to control my feelings bc i’m such a fragile person” but I can’t anymore let this touch me. I know I am like that. And maybe it makes me more of a quality person. I have compassion, I am not ever boring, I can love fiercely, I can grieve fiercely. How can softness and vulnerability exist in the same place as fierceness? Well i cannot be tamed down. And i need to learn to lick my wounds. I have been doing so for the past months…but it’s time to take the things really into my hands…even though they are shaky, even though I am afraid of dropping on the floor and breaking like glass again. But fear shouldn’t stop me after all.

I am hopeful.

Lots of kisses from this wounded strong fighter, Imma go to sleep or eat my doughnut now. Probably eat it in the morning. Good night.

[bisexualterror]

i was challegened by @queen-of-salt-and-fury to finish the entirety of the 🌼🌿botanical asks🌻🌙 thanks for the tag babe!!😘

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed?

mmm,  i gotta go with dragons 😆

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls?

vinyls for sure

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read?

hmm, i don’t know, i read more fanfiction than i do books

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets?

yeah, but i don’t do it very often

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month?

i updated my fanfic not too long ago and my reader's comments were really so sweet

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself?

to stop being so hard on myself 

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests?

 i’m curious about the ocean and what secrets it hides so probably the ocean

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

i was so young i don’t even remember who it was beside the fact it was probably a childhood friend and definitely a girl. so.. no i probably wouldn’t

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits?

depends on how early i have to wake up on that day and where i’m going. otherwise? nope.

apricot drift; how do you feel right now?

excited

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having?

uhm i was living in an underground, scientist lab that kinda looked like my basement but bigger. first i was studying a space parasite and then the next i knew i about to bang Ares from Xena but then i got distracted by daenerys running past us, chasing after baby viserion. my alarm woke me up before it got better.

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now?

rasberry chocolate

lavender dream; turn ons/offs?

same here, intelligence is a big turn on. my turn off would probably be just anyone who is a dick.

water lilly; when was the last time you cried? why?

mm i was probably last month, it was either about dany or another character because i rarely cry about anything else these days 😅

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize?

mm, not really. it didn’t come off as an apology to me, more like an excuse.

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream?

lick

honey perfume; favorite movie ever?

mmm, that’s a hard one, oof. uhm, i guess i’d say the princess bride

desert rose; do you like yourself?

eeeh depends on the day, but i’m trying to be better

snapdragon; have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity?

sjskksk i don’t go out in the world, so no

night owl; how many countries have you visited?

i have sadly only seen america and not even that much of my own country

heliotrope; have you ever been in a castle?

nope never. hmu if you own a castle and want me to haunt it tho

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done?

i’m a coward. no joke. does helping my mom get her life a little bit better count a brave thing?? 

lantana; what’s on your mind right now?

the list of things i should be doing. spoiler: i am not doing them today.

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign?

capricorn bby

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself 

i have visual snow 

i’m obsessed with cinnamon

my hands are always freezing cold

i love baking

daphne; do you believe in karma?

yeh, kind of

queen of the meadow; ever been in love?

i have confessed my love to many people before, but i don’t think i really was in love with them if only because of how young i was was

wisteria; whom do you admire and why?

i agree that i do admire celebrities who use their fame to help others. 

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child?

i don’t remember anyone read me a bedtime story, but if someone did, it was probably also a bible story

remember me; did you make someone laugh today?

yes. my mom and a friend.

iris; do you believe in ghosts?

sometimes i think it’s bullshit, other times i’m like 👀👀

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit? 

lol, as a black woman, this question is always so hard because - racism and sexism. i guess i’d go with 1920′s 

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not?

yeah, i’m down. i wanna go live on a different planet one day, or at least visit one. and who the fuck knows what kind of crazy shit we humans will have invented by then. and the humor? god our humor is weird and hard to explain now, imagine what it’s gonna be like in a 100 years now. 

primula; what makes you sad?

now we don’t have time to unpack all of that. off the top of my head though, it’s sad that so many people choose to be cruel instead of kind and half of those cruel people are in power over entire countries.

rain lily; was today typical? why/why not?

yeah. i just stayed home. took care of my mom. wrote some.

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most?

oof..no one. i know it’s pathetic but,,, i don’t have friends in real life right now and i have a complicated relationship with my family. so no one really.

lady’s slipper; what did you have for breakfast today?

cereal and toast with strawberry jam

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life?

a lot. i wish i had focused more on bettering my life than distracting myself. i also wish i had been a nicer kid online and hadn’t isolated myself from childhood friends who kept trying to be my friend. trying to make up for it now.

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe?

it’s between harry potter or doctor who

violet; favorite tv show?

im obsessing over the witcher and the mandalorian right now, it’s my raging daddy issues coming into play 

sunflower; share a favorite quote

“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” ― Sarah Williams

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like?

waking up. reading. showering. eating. taking care of my mom. writing. going for walks.

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies?

painting, writing, drawing

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you

“I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.” ― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared?

get a tattoo

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger?

FUN FACT: i have never dated anyone ever. unless you count that one time i had an online boyfriend.

sweet pea; who means the world to you? why?

my online longest online friend, she was the first person i came out to and even tho we don’t talk much anymore i love her and tell her pretty much everything

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read?

i cannot choose?? how do you choose??

foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character?

it’s between batman and lisa simpson

magnolia; coffee or tea?

both, but i drink coffee more

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved?

on one hand, i need more money, on the other hand i’m an attention whore...hmmmm i gotta go with loved

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person?

cats

bell flower; what is your biggest addiction?

reading fanfic and creating ocs for every fandom i’m in

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy?

fuck yeah!

moonflower; what’s your favorite color?

green or purple. or gold. or red. but mainly purple.

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not?

not really. my dad lives barely an hour away from me but i haven’t seen him in years and only hear from him maybe two times a month. enough said.

my mom and i are better than we were before but i’m bisexual and still in the closet and everyone in my family is very homophobic and set in their Ways, so that could change. 

both of my siblings are half-siblings. my older sister i haven’t seen in since we were kids or talked to her in years and while i could continue to blame that on our family...she’s older than me and has a car.  i’m closer to my brother because we live together he’s almost ten years older than me so we’re not super close

sundrop; are you a morning or a night person?

night person

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness?

yes. my mom.

clover; how would your friends describe you?

idk, clingy?? sksksk probably sweet.

dandelion; do you consider yourself and extrovert or an introvert?

introvert

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do?

fanfic. the thing is, even if i’m embarrassed i’ll probably randomly tell you anyway 

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words

tired

horny

smiley

lotus; best memory as a child?

pretending to be a naruto style ninja with my brother

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color?

brown eyes. black hair.

dahlia; do you like crystals?

yesss

 buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?

but.. but i have so many. i know it sounds cliche, but world hunger.

baby’s breath; what’s your hogwarts house?

i can’t remember the first house i got, but all i remember is getting so upset with my result that i ended up retaking it just so i can be in slytherin. 

calendula; biggest pet peeve?

people who talk over me, or people who are just so set in their ways that they’re unwilling to listen to reason

blanker flower; would you rather go to a cocktail party with your best friends or stay home and read a book/watch a movie with your pet?

i’d prefer the second one, but what about a third option, i could invite some friends over to watch a movie and we could drink together while cuddling with pets

blazing star; share a secret

i had bad habit of pretending to be someone i’m not so that people will like me and so sometimes i worry that i’m still doing it and i’m just a fake person who doesn’t have their own opinion

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier?

happier

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? 

a long list of fictional characters

bluebell; do you wear glasses?

yes. yes i do.

nymphea; forest or river?

forest

orchid; do you like exercise?

nope, which is why i’m overweight lmao

pansy; do you like poetry?

yeah!

morning glory; any special talent that you have?

i can pick up things with my toes sksksk uhm that was true but i guess i’m good at making people smile(✿◕‿◕✿)

i tag @mutantsandproud and anyone else who wants to join!!

[jellidile]

Pages and Pages (Vergil, sad)

Welp, I was inspired by the goings on with the dmc diaries that have recently popped up. And apparently, Nero is very interested in his mom and Vergil’s relationship... Hopefully, it isn’t as sad as this 

@nerosdailydiary and @journalofvergilsparda Why don’t y’all take a look? Maybe it isn’t what happens between the two of you, but it is fanfic for you both so it’s only right to tag you :)

Nero goes looking for a diary Vergil hid. He’s pretty sure it’ll have something about his mother in it... He gets a lot more than he bargained for.

Nero couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled a dusty book from his father’s closet. The old man had sworn off talking about his younger years, much to Nero’s displeasure. But, he had mentioned he had a diary from those days, so now, three days in, Nero couldn’t help but feel a little pride,

“Try hiding it better next time, Dad” flipping through the first pages Nero didn’t see anything of interest. Mostly just rambles about how Dante was the worst, or how he felt abandoned. Bits of poetry here and there. Until finally, he found mentions of Fortuna. Quickly Nero skimmed through until,

Day 25 in Fortuna

I met a woman today. She was… Well, she wasn’t terrible looking. She seemed harmless enough. She asked if I wanted a tour of the church, and when I asked why she was very insistent that everyone who visits Fortuna should see it. I don’t know why (it has nothing to do with my visit) but I followed her. Overall, it… was a good day.

Nero smiled wide. Skipping ahead a few pages.

Day 35 in Fortuna

She’s all that I can think about anymore. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. Today we were talking again and I, I wanted to kiss her so bad. Is it wrong for me to want to spend time with her all the time? I followed her home last night and she met with a friend of her’s… I want her to hug me the way she hugs her friends. I want to make her laugh because her laugh is so… when she laughs too hard she snorts and it’s… endearing. I’m rambling… anyways I think I’m sick. I shall continue my research into the church after I figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

Day 36

I AM MOST DEFINITELY SICK

Nero barked out a laugh. Of course, his awkward dad wouldn’t know what he was feeling. But it was also nice to know that on some level, he laughed like his mother. The diary had a few days missing but Nero was glad to see that nothing much was missing.

Day 50

I kissed her. We were sitting beside each other, and she pointed out that it was getting late… And just the way the sun was hitting her face, she just looked so… so… Gah! damn it all, there are no words! But I leaned in and kissed her… and I must be going mad because it felt so right. I-I think the best part was that she kissed back and I got to hold her. However brief that moment really was… It didn’t feel like it. Even now, sitting here, that moment felt like hours. Although… I’m ashamed to admit I left right after it was over. I hope to see her tomorrow.

Nero was amazed. He couldn’t help but smile. He would’ve never thought that his father was capable of doing anything even remotely close to making the first move. He kept reading. Most entries were now either focussed on him finding out what the church was up to or recounting a date he and Nero’s mother had been on. But one entry caught his eye,

Day 85

I love her so. Today we were talking and I… I told her that I had no family,

“I’m all alone.” I know Dante is still alive, but I doubt he would take me back. We may be twins but, I’ve changed too much. Anyways, after I said that she went,

“You aren’t alone Vergil. I care about you.” and she held me. There was a moment I paused, and I cried. I don’t she knows how much those words really meant to me. I’m even finding it hard to write here but… Those words, “you aren’t alone” it’s all that I’ve wanted to hear.

Day 86

How to tell the woman you love, you love her… I’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell her all day and I can’t seem to think of anything. Every time I want to say it the words die on my tongue. But I don’t even feel worthy of saying to her. How could I tell her that I love her? Just three words seem so… stupid. She means more to me then words can convey. My sun and moon. My world and stars. Life without her would be dull and meaningless. She somehow pulled down my walls. And I’m still at a loss as to how. Bubbly and bright. I remember wanting to make her laugh, but it’s the other way around. She makes me laugh. But her smile when I laugh… She practically glows. I came here seeking answers, but they don’t interest me when I see her. Sometimes we can just lie down holding each other, no words will pass our lips, but for hours we are content to do so. How do I tell my reason for all my joy, that she is so? I doubt it can be simply done.

Day 90

I am writing this in the morning because my princess says I won’t have any time tonight. She has a busy day planned. I think I might try to tell her how I feel. Hopefully, all goes well.

It’s night now… I got to tell her, and uh… Show her… If that’s clear enough. I’d rather not retell the details of tonight. That’s a memory I shall keep all to myself. Though looking at her now as she sleeps… I am overcome with a deep and profound want- no, need to stay with her. Power be damned. I love her.

Nero couldn’t help but stare speechlessly at the two entries. Tear’s flowed down his cheeks, he didn’t even know that they were there. But the way his father wrote so much about his mother… to go as far as, “Power be damned” yet he still wasn’t done reading the book. Only about halfway,

Flipping through the entries were now solely focused on his mother, and then there was a jump, Day 108, Day 109, Day 110, Day 130? Nero’s heart stopped,

Day 130

I’m leaving Fortuna. Alone. A few weeks ago demons came and… They attacked me, I didn’t see one, and… Why didn’t I see it? I should’ve seen it. Now she’s hurt and it’s all my fault… I-I wasn’t strong enough. I let her get hurt. I DID THAT! I COULDN’T- She isn’t safe with me around. Dante would laugh at me. Sobbing into my hands, alone. Bless her heart though,

“It’s not your fault Vergil. I’m still alive. Knowing you, it will never happen again.” she tries. But she’s too optimistic, all humans are. I should’ve known that it all would’ve come crumbling down. I’m a son of Sparda. I should’ve seen the demon, but I didn’t. And she’s hurt, and I- I don’t deserve to be with someone I can’t protect. Why does it hurt me to write this… Why… I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I just want to protect you. I can’t I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not you. Please don’t resent me for this. Please...

Nero shook. Anything else that was written on the page was smudged. It looked as though Vergil had been crying as he wrote… Still, Nero was not done reading the journal as at least 50 pages remained.  And page upon page was filled with heartbroken words. 50 pages were filled to the brim each one different yet all of them all trying to say sorry. Nero found himself particularly affected by the very last page.

If I could run back to you, love I promise I would. We were young and in love, and I can only hope that it does not mean we are dumb. But each night when I close my eyes, you are there. And it is that blessed night where we joined body and soul again, and I can hear myself saying I love you over and over. I can still hear every whispered message of love and desire. Even after all this time, I find myself drawn to the thought of you. Maybe in another life, I’m not the coward that I am today. Scared of inadvertently hurting those he loves, but it seems I’ve already done plenty of that. I’ve always been seeking power, and with you, I didn’t think I needed it. Perhaps I didn’t. Who could know?

If I could be held in your arms again, darling I’d be back in a second. Yet would you even take me as I am? On those nights where I am left plagued by nightmares, I see you again highlighted and glowing in the sunset. I feel your lips against mine and I remember every curve, I remember every inch of you. How I wish to hold you, how I wish to be held. Within your shelter, I was warm and loved. Safe from the nightmare’s of losses long ago. But even so, could you hold me? Hold the man who loved you so much he left? Who could know?

If I could lie with you and talk like we would always do, princess, there would be no other place I would wish to be. So many if’s wander through my tortured mind, and so many are met with the scared ramblings of a man deeply scarred and bitter. But, how I adored your laugh and your smile. Oh, I can still recall every time I let my eyes wander, only to find them locked with yours. How I worshipped you, and love I meant every word of passion I  ever said. But do you still love me I wonder? Do you still think back to those days of bright joy, and look fondly upon my memory? Do you love me? Ah, who could know?

As Nero stopped reading he shuddered out a sigh. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. Nero jumped but was held in place. Vergil spoke mournfully as he placed his head on Nero’s shoulder,

“I’m sorry I left you and your mother. I left you both all alone.” Nero wanted to say something but he could only wiggle around and hug his father back. Vergil’s grip tightened on his son as he silently sobbed,

“I’m so sorry Nero…” 

“It’s okay Dad.” 

We aren’t alone anymore.

[maheeia]

really long character survey.

rules--- repost, don’t reblog, good luck! tagged by--- @cielcrd tagging--- the person reading this <:

full name: mona jager nickname: missy age: 23-27 ( msq dependent )  birthday: 12th sun of the 3rd umbral moon  ethnic group: midlander hyur nationality: gridanian language(s): eorzean standard sexual orientation: pansexual romantic orientation: demiromantic relationship status: widowed; single class: bard, astrologian ( secondary ) hometown / area: the black shroud; the lavender beds current home: n/a, hyana geriel’s home ( occasionally ) profession: warrior of light, scion ( wolverse ), hunter ( normal verse )

physical.

hair: shoulderblade length ( shoulder length post-heavensward ), ashen brown. soft and silky when brushed. quite bouncy and wavy, almost to the point of curls. thick. usually disheaveled.  eyes: a soft peach shade-- big, bright and friendly nose: small, straight face: full, chubby-cheeked. somewhat oval-shaped. soft features. lips: soft & full complexion: smooth, mocha-toned. warm undertones. blemishes: none scars: the typical battle scars & her large back scar from the calamity tattoos: n/a ( so far ) height: 157 cm ( 5′1 ) weight: 57 kg ( 126 lbs ) build: curvy, a bit chubby. hourglass figure. rather short by definition. features: n/a allergies: n/a usual hairstyle: normally wears it down, letting it fall about her shoulders freely. will occasionally tie into a braid to sleep in, or up in a messy bun in the early mornings. usual face look: soft and kind. approachable. warm. curious. usual clothing: particularly fond of pastels & whites. doesn’t often wear form-fitting tops, but does gravitate toward shorts. flower ornaments in her hair.

psychology.

fear(s): losing the people she loves, being alone aspiration(s): helping people, being happy positive traits: energetic, clever, creative, sociable, witty, friendly, passionate negative traits: impulsive, restless, over-talkative, competitive, guarded, naive zodiac: gemini sun, aries rising, leo moon temperament: sanguine soul type(s): artisan, server animals: songbird vice habit(s): overworking, saying “um” and “ah”, self-deprecation faith: nophica, the matron; the twelve ghosts?: yes afterlife?: yes reincarnation?: yes aliens?: with skepticism political alignment: liberal, though openminded education level: high-school equivelent in eorzea

family.

father: ( birth father, name unknown ) mother: synnove smith ( adoptive mother ), aseh dhursu ( adoptive mother ), ( birth mother, name unknown ) siblings: n/a extended family: the scions ( found family ), lucan’s father ( unnamed ) name meaning(s): "mona”, in it’s old english definiton ( traditional hyuran ), means “moon.” in it’s arabic definition ( which more closely resembles her ethnicity ), it means “( unreachable ) wishes”.

favorites.

book: she loves many, many, many books, but none more than her sightseeing journal. its very loved ( read: worn ) and has notes upon notes written in it. it’s unreplacable and very informative. 5 songs: i don’t have any specific ones, but there is one lullaby her mother used to sing to her to help her sleep that she sings often when she misses her. other than that, it’s songs she’s picked up from other bards. deity: nophica holiday: hatching-tide  month: march season: summer place: outer la noscea weather: clear skies sound: rain against the trees, gentle lapping of waves, birdsong scent(s): fresh tea mix, honeysuckle, the forest taste(s): fresh-brewed tea, strawberry feel(s): a warm, thick blanket paired with a soft mattress, the warmth of a lover animal(s): most, but wolves & does especially number: 12 colors: wine red

extra.

talents: singing, writing poetry/song, playing the lyre, archery, hunting bad at: dancing, lying turn ons: submissive but strong men, dominant and strong women, black hair, light eyes, games of cat & mouse turn offs: excessively rude/ignoring her, disloyalty, being looked down on, egotistical personalities hobbies: exploring-- see talents tropes: n/a ( i know some fit to her, i’ve just never thought about it & its too broad a topic to research ) aesthetic tags: flowers, wings, cottages, sweaters, nature, 50′s-60′s, cluttered living spaces, sunshine, forests gpoy quotes: "heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. there is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes & the will to survive resides within her soul. she is you. a warrior, a champion, a fighter, a queen" - r.h sin

faceclaim info.

main fc(s): herself! alt fc(s): touko ( pkmn, unofficial ), n/a older fc(s): n/a younger  fc(s): n/a voice claim(s): choi yerim ( loona )

mun questions.

q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?:

i would probably call it “flightless bird”. it would be a documentary all through her life, through videos taken of/by her at various moments of it. it would end happily, but i’m not sure how-- probably with the promise of another adventure on the horizon for her.

q2: what would their soundtrack / score sound like?:

there probably wouldn’t be one in that style! nothing of note, anyway.

q3: why did you start writing this character?:

oh man, i’ve been writing this character. i made her! i started rping her because i wanted to make some new friends and some new beginnings, but writing her... i just love her so much. she makes me so happy. writing her feels so good, y’know? it just... makes me happy.

q4: what first attracted you to this character?:

i liked the idea i made up of her being an incredibly tragic character who never showed it, just.. all smiles and positivity. i liked the sound of the challenge of making her happy again after she lost everything. plus, she’s one of the first brown characters i’ve ever created that i didn’t feel guilty for creating. she makes me feel better about myself.

q5: describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse:

i really don’t dislike anything about her! i suppose the fact that she’s sad. her being sad makes me sad. but i made her this way, so...

q6: what do you have in common with your muse?:

a lot actually, lol. it’d be easier to talk about what we don’t have in common. :P

q7: how does your muse feel about you?:

she loves me and supports me, in my head. i like to believe that she understands me on a deep level and she cherishes me because she knows who i am and what i’m going through. she wants me to be safe and happy, and know that she’s always with me if i need someone. she wants me to know that neither of us have to be alone as long as she lives in my head. we can be each other’s best friends if we can’t have any others at the current moment.

q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

honestly? herself. other than typical msq interactions, the conversations that she has in her head with herself are interesting to explore, every once in a while-- no matter how depressing they tend to be, lol.

q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse?:

my absolute and utter adoration for her and everything she is, and also music. lots of music.

q10: how long did this take you to complete?:

ummm a few hours honestly! i don’t remember when i started. maybe 3-4?

[akira-seijuro]

The moment of Fall - Part 1

I am trying to listen to serendipity right now by bts. And it’s still trying to stream on my music player. By the way, do you know what serendipity means? Let me Google it for you.

Well, it means ‘accident, happy accident, chance, happy chance,’ a fucking fluke?! I swear, those are the actual Google results. Why does it sound similar to me at all? Because something happened to me recently. I fell again. I didn’t want to use the word 'love,’ because it is too soon to be so much. But the word 'like’ seems to be pretty small. I blushed the entire day, spent my work in the poetry of my head, not being able to think how to troubleshoot a device because of my heart, yes not my brain this time, my heart. I’ll tell you why later. So, yes my heart could not let my brain tell the steps to my colleague who wanted me to help him troubleshoot. He was staring at me in blank, because he thought I was way too dull all this week. Well, my dear colleague, in my defense, I met the guy only twice and one of them was when it was my mission to unleash all the anger at him and the other was when I was so pissed at his best friend who was my first love and also at his other best friend, who was/is my best friend as well who ditched me that day.

The first time we met was when we were crossing paths at the gates, we stared at each other properly, probably the only time in those 4 years of college. A 3-4 second stare and no shit happened then. I always was intrigued by him and I wanted to talk to him, one, because he was close to 2 people whom I love the most and two because everyone told me he was a difficult person to talk to. It just seemed challenging and I’m really good at such things. The next time was when we sat down for the same interview. The thing is, he didn’t register in my head properly back then, because I was too focused on winning against him in the group discussion. They made 2 groups of the group discussions, both separate and unlinked. Destiny put us in the same group. I was sitting on the right side of the table (extreme bottom side) and he on the left side of the table (non-extreme top side). So it’s easier to say, diagonally towards the corners, but shit didn’t strike before. I was like motherfucking shit, this guy had to be in this group, I’m gonna get him because I was too pissed that he was close to Loki and I’m not. This is an exaggeration. I didn’t want to hurt him. I just didn’t want him to and most of his wing-mates sort of hurt me in one or the other way. So it was just my defense mechanism to get ready for the battle.

If you’re wondering Loki? Yeah, let’s call my first love Loki, my best friend/brother Oikawa (I’m a big fan of Haikyuu and Kuroko-no basuke : Japanese manga/anime - I used to be like Akashi from kuroko nobasuke - then turned to Kageyama - then turned to Iwaizumi from haikyuu, hence Oikawa, the best friend). Let’s call the man in the focus Chris. You’ll understand why in the coming words. I never once thought I’ll write about Chris and the encounter with him but you know life, it just simply sucks. Now I can’t find him on Facebook, probably he deactivated. So I went through Loki’s profile, the irony, but couldn’t find a single thing related to Chris on his wall. First I’m only going through to know his birthday because it has always been a compulsion for me to know the birthdays of people who impress me, I don’t even know why. A few days back, his FB profile picture was Red John smiley. I love Patrick Jane, Simon Baker was amazing playing that role. Are you fucking kidding me?! This guy is actually like 40% Patrick Jane. 40% because Patrick is so cool and positive on the outside and you know, smart too. Well, anyway I asked one of my close friends to check for his dob on LinkedIn because he will get to know if I went through. Let’s see. I don’t think there will be any luck though. So, anyway, I really-really-really- really-really-really like this guy, like Carly-Ray-Jepsen’s song 'I really like you.’ As I am writing all this, it’s becoming easier and it’s sort of like going away I guess or it’s becoming stronger. I can’t differentiate anymore.

My bro, the Oikawa kept telling me that he is the perfect dude for me, I was like dude fuck off. I don’t like any of your wing-mates. Falling for one, turned everything upside down, the next one is not going to be from your wing. And a few days back before it all started, he told me he met a guy who said something that mindfucked him. He didn’t want to tell me because he thought it will mindfuck me as well. I said try me. Then Oikawa said 'The guy I met told me that he will never have kids. The world is so fucked up.’ After 2 days of my clever bro’s contemplation, he asked the guy why? The guy said that world is so fucked up, the government, people and all - something on that lines, he didn’t tell me the exact conversation, so why would you bring kids into a world like this. Guess the first thought in my head, 'He is my fucking Thor.’ Okay, brief flashback - my bro promised me he will find someone for me and I told him even thor had to prove himself to lift the Mjolnir - the hammer. So basically I became the Mjolnir and my the one would be thor. Anyway, I refrained from telling him the first thought in my head and told him, dude, it makes sense obviously. What’s the big deal? Why would you bring people into a world like this? He was woah, this girl isn’t as mindfucked as me. Well, Oikawa, I’m a dark person who understands it better than anyone amongst your circle, Chris is exceptional though. I had a buddha phase in my life where I saw suffering, death, and loss of so many. Then I could not control it anymore and I told him, dude, you met my fucking Thor. Please don’t tell me he is the gay dude from the office because I’m straight. He asked me if I really wanted to know who. I said 'yes, of course.’ He said 'the thor is Chris.’

Fucked. Psyched. Fucked. I fell off as if there is nothing to hold on to. The moment of fall. Yep, that’s when I have decided what I was going to call this writing. Another heartbreak because this guy doesn’t like or can’t to talk or meet people. I don’t know for sure. That doesn’t even make any fucking sense. All those counseling sessions, medications have convinced me that it’s the fucking pheromones that made me fall for Loki, but I didn’t even ever say hi to this guy. Everything had a logical reason behind it until now. After almost exactly 4 years, since 2015, this is the first time it didn’t make any sense at all. I fell for a guy whom I barely saw, like a fictional personality. But he is fucking Real. All the bloody lump of flesh is real. But as my bro said 'that fucking guy is a chuth and the beautiful possibility might be ruined because of him.’ I am being fair now, he is not at all like Kise Ryota from kuroko nobaske, who is so outgoing and swag. Loki is little like Kise. This guy is totally different from Kise if at all he is -infinity% like kise. Strange but known coincidence, he plays basket-ball. I don’t like to use the words 'good, God and happy’ anymore. So I’m gonna say 'sound, nature to assign all the unexplanatory blame, blithe/gleeful.’ I felt so bad that nature is such a bitch it had to take away thor from me and it doesn’t even give me back a captain America. Because of the way we both were born, we can never meet. Ever. The next morning I called Oikawa, chanting fucking asshole while waking up and told him how disturbed I was, I am for Chris. It felt like another heartbreak, the moment I came to know it was him like someone cut my heart into a perfect 2 using scissors instead of a single stab to stop it. I used to have 1% belief when my bro used to tell me he was perfect and 99% bitch please face. Now it became 100% with another zero towards the right at the end. But goddamn, this is not happening. It’s s reality fiction. I called my girlfriend and I asked her if I can come over. She invited me to stay over for the night and I got mindfucked. She was like why dude? Did you forget me or something? Why are you so shocked. It felt so new having someone be so nice to you without even asking after a long time. She asked me to go meet Oikawa in the middle of the night. Even though she was sleeping, she woke up at 11.45 to let me out. 2.20 to let me in and 7.45 to let me out again. Such an awesome friend. I met Oikawa and we talked random stuff like he says. Then I came back and slept beside her on the floor even though she gave me a comfy bed to sleep in. I needed someone, I wouldn’t have minded if it were a hungry tiger sleeping instead of her. But having her made me feel so gleeful that a cold floor felt more comfortable than a fluffy mattress.

I didn’t fall because he is Chris but because I came to know about the existence of a probable person who can understand the darkness with which I’m living in, the darkness that I am. I know all this is might as well just be an image in my head.

Either way, I woke up heartbroken and reasoned with myself on the way back to my place that I’m simply just too broken. So stop searching to trying to fix yourself Akira, you are only breaking yourself further in that process. I am a broken human. My own brain fucks me up, feels bad and tries to make up for it and realizes it has gone way too far and gives up on itself. I am that broken. I’ll probably never have kids too because I’m too broken to have them, not because the world is fucked up Chris. I would like to tell you something. The world is fucked up, but with one person to love and to care and to understand like how you’d want her to, the world is not just livable, its everything but unworthy. The words sad, grief, depression, anxiety would still be applicable, so will the words happy, enjoyable and amazing. I know I just said the word happy. You might lose that person whom you have found, she might die later, but I’m sure she will give you all that you need to be hopeful forever. Let me love you, you will know. Serendipity ends now. Thank you, Jimin Park, for that beautiful song.

But you won’t let me in Chris. So it’s all still broken for both of us. Because we both are broken by our own unloved lives, but I think if it’s our love together, it’ll be happily livable and hopeful. But I know the way we were born doesn’t allow it. All I’m saying is we can still change it, we can bear anything if we can choose. Even if it's your worst fear, it's bearable if you choose. The choice is yours.

If you guys are wondering whether my friend found him on LinkedIn, yes she did. But that fucking asshole didn’t mention his dob in bio.

[weiwuxiian]

@twojadesoflan (LWJ) 💞

Send 💞 for me to describe 5 ways my muse says ‘I love you’ to yours. || @twojadesoflan

He obviously hates you, Wei Wuxian, why are you so insistent in bugging him? Jiang Cheng huffs, crossing his arms. Wei Wuxian smiles and says nothing. He knows, but he couldn’t help it. Teasing Lan Wangji daily had become some sort of a habit to him, just like eating, sleeping, and hunting pheasants. We’re going to leave Gusu soon, can’t you at least leave a good impression? Jiang Cheng adds an offhanded comment, and just like that, Wei Wuxian had spent his remaining days thinking over it. From offering his room when Lan Wangji would visit Yunmeng to suggesting a trip on stealing Lotus Pods from the lake near Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian had thought of dozens of ways to say goodbye to Lan Wangji but couldn’t think of one where the top disciple of Gusu wouldn’t reject him.

     He went to Jiang Cheng for advice. When the Yunmeng heir threw him out of his room and called him extra, he thought of going to Nie Huaisang for advice but then thought against it. Finally, when the day came that they had to return to Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian was surprised to find Lan Wangji watching them leave. ❝I’ll take a minute!❞ he exclaims before hurrying up the stairs of the mountain, where Lan Wangji stood like a lion on a pride rock. He missed the look of surprise that spreads across the other boy’s face as he threw a hug around his shoulders.  ❝I’ll wait for you.❞ he says, ❝When you come to Yunmeng we will go pick Lotus Seed Pods together.❞ leaving no room for rejection. But Lan Wangji never came.

The next time they met, Wei Wuxian approaches Lan Wangji out of his own will, the fact that Lan Wangji had bailed out of their promise long forgotten. ❝How is your leg?❞ he asks from pure concern and wasn’t surprised when Lan Wangji showed him a black face as he turns away. Da Shi-xiong! A disciple from Yunmeng calls him, and Wei Wuxian turns around, what did he say? the same boy asks again when Wei Wuxian returns to join the Yunmeng group. He shrugs,  ❝I guess he’s in a bad mood.❞

      More than a bad mood I’ll say. The Wen Sect burned down the Cloud Recesses just two days ago! And Wei Wuxian’s face immediately fell, his expression darkens slightly from the absurd news. Shhh, shhh. Sixth Shidi, you spoke too loud. Aren’t you afraid Lan Wangji could have heard? Someone else’s voice joins the conversation, but the subsequent rambling of voices merely blended in a blurry mix of background music in his mind. Wei Wuxian was too busy looking back over his shoulders at Lan Wangji worriedly. He was surprised to find that Lan Wangji was staring back.

Wei Ying, you really are a terrible person. He remembers the times when any opinions that weren’t from either Jiang Yanli or Jiang Cheng didn’t matter to him. But Lan Wangji’s words cut through his heart as piercing as Bichen could have achieved, shredding every bit of enthusiasm he had only a second before, however unintentional the other boy was. Wei Wuxian shrinks into himself, pulling his legs against his chest as he sat in his own corner, far far away from Lan Wangji.  ❝I know.❞ he says quietly,  ❝I’ll not bother you anymore, Lan Zhan.❞

     Once the beast is dead, he felt his entire world spinning, his body temperature bouncing between extremes, he had almost fallen to his knees when a strong hand wraps itself around his shoulder and pulls him back upright, taking all his weight with ease. Sleep. You are fevered. He hears the same voice that claims him to be a terrible person, the same amount of softness and calmness. Wei Wuxian had never felt so safe before knowing someone reliable was by his side. So he fell asleep, making himself completely vulnerable. Through the haze, he felt like someone was ravishing through his clothes as they stole something. Something MianMian had given him.

❝Lan Wangji! Who do you think you are?!❞ Taking me back to Gusu when you feel like it. Have I no say in anything? His fist balls themselves, his temper flares. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he felt anger rushing through his head like this. His anger only subsided when he thought he caught a glimpse of water gathering at the sides of Lan Wangji’s eyes. Once bright, golden hues of orbs dulled with a foreign layer of sadness. But before Wei Wuxian could speak up, Jiang Cheng stood in front of him. Wei Wuxian belongs to Yunmeng. He said.

      ❝I have already broken my ties with Yunmeng Jiang so they will not be burdened by me. Everything I do from now will be for myself only.❞ he tells Lan Wangji the next time they meet, deliberately trying to avoid the obvious reason why the other had come. I’m not going back to Gusu with you. I can’t. He averts his gaze when Lan Wangji seems to simmer in silent pity.  ❝It’s best if we don’t meet again as well.❞ he suddenly adds, adding another stab to the wound he is already experiencing. ❝After all, your uncle loathes people like me.❞

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flicker open, shivers vibrating through his body when the feeling of a cold tip against his nose. His eyes meet Lan Wangji’s, now ripe with thirty years of age. The other man holding a Chinese brush, running its head all over his face, smearing himself in black ink. He remembers now: they were spending their time in the library pavillon, chattering away and reading poetry. Wei Wuxian had leaned against Lan Wangji’s table so it was impossible for him to read or write, smiling mischievously. Lan Wangji responded in kind, writing on Wei Wuxian’s face instead. Already half of his face was covered in one verse of a poem by Li Bai.

      Then Wei Wuxian’s mind wanders off, daydreaming as usual. He had started crying when his mind returns to the present. Lan Wangji puts down the brush. What’s the matter? He asks softly. But Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to reply. The words died on his throat, drowned by choked sobs. He flings himself at Lan Wangji, embracing him into a hug and presses his face into his robes, not caring the verse of the poem would print themselves on the pristine white cloth. ❝Lan Zhan, I’m sorry.❞ the words roll on his tongue out quicker than tears down his cheeks, ❝I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. Next time, it won’t be like this anymore. If you want to scold me, then scold me. If you want to take me back to Gusu, I’ll definitely follow you. But don’t leave me, please.❞

     There is no saccharine confession. No mawkish words exchanged. But a soothing pat on his head, and a reassuring Mn, was enough.