#i suppose it's better than 2 years ago when everything was painfully aware of my not-so-great mental state

[panictimesfour]

i find it funny how my social media platforms vary in content/people. like on tumblr i'm getting random stuff on my dash and barbenheimer content on my for you (and way too many people thirsting for cillian murphy...). instagram decided i'm a diehard league of legends player. my friends on discord are gamers who don't like to talk to me or step outside their rooms, and my friends on snap are nonexistent.

it's just funny. i don't really know why.

[streets-in-paradise]

Let’s talk about the amazingly on spot social commentary on The Boys

Warning: This post contains spoilers from Season 1 and the first three episodes of season 2 of The Boys 

Tags: @nehoymenyoy asked to be tagged. I don’t know if my tags are working well but if they don’t i will send you the link of the post. 

I decided to make this post because i finished all the avaliable episodes of the series two days ago and, having a long talk with my sister about this topic, i tought this is too awesome to not discuss it here. We are both studying in careers of the social field, i'm in sociology and she is in social work. We watched the show together and talking with her inspired my own ideas i would like to share here.

This show was a wonderfull surprise in terms of social commentary. I haven't watched one with such a great commentary since American Gods. In that case i was expecting some degree of progressive commentary because i had read the book previously and i was aware the source material had some, the one added for the series is even better and it was great, but it wasn't a shock to find it. For The Boys i haven't read the comics first and , even when i loved the show for lots of reasons, the amazing on spot social commentary was a hell of a surprise. I have been frustrated lately in terms of the messages in entertaiment products because, even when there is a lot of intention for part of the makers to make more progressive points in their stuff, everything becomes bland marketing to me most of the time. I remember that some years ago media used to came out unintentionally with some really cool progressive messages ( like, for example, " a bug's life" and its anti capitalist message). That stuff seemed soo genuine and today i feel that everytime a product targets my demographic in that sense what they deliver it's soo bland and fake that the progressive intention of the message gets lost in the absolutely obvious intention of selling something to me using my ideals as catch. Precisely this is an important point of critic in this show. I didn't expected at all to get a genuine feeling in the social commentary of a superhero show. I'm not saying that this means i think the makers believe in this (after all, it's amazon), what i praise here is how good they did it. In a time when most productions claim to have a social commentary behind to come out as cool but result in shallow fake bullshit this series has provided me with something that feels autentic. Like American Gods, what i feel the show is trying to tell me actually gets me.

Before starting with the proper talk i want to dedicate a few línes to recommend a few scenes of the show i just mentioned. I was super dissapointed after finding out they will probably end up turning it into more bland fake bullshit for season 3 but, to anyone who likes well delivered social commentary, check on Orlando Jones's scenes as Anansi. He is my favourite character from the show and all his scenes are a blessing. 

I would also want to clarify that this post and the opinions displayed on it are from an anti capitalist, intersectional feminist and latin american perspective. I know the show is very american, the issues it discusses are most of the time worlwide but it has particularities of the american context so i will try to talk only of what i feel i know enough to have a word. I'm argentinian and we have our local versions of some of this problems but i will stay in the series territory trying to be as faithfull as i can to the american reality it gets inspiration from. Also, forgive me for any mistakes on my writing and expresions. English is not my native language. 

Superheros are modern mythology. How would this work in real life?

This is the basic premise of the show’s worldbuilding. The great thing is that this concept is not developed in an edgy, pretentious way. It is serious and painfully real because it’s not only a subversion of tropes, it says a lot of what superheros are to us as a modern times myth. In a superficial view, the world of The Boys feels like what the MCU could have become after the Sokovia accords if they would have been efficiently followed on a worldwide scale.

In that particular universe i use as reference, our superheros are noble and morally heroic individuals.State intervention is the factor threatening to corrupt their actions making them follow the interests of the system. The risk there, along with some very shady violations of human rights to powered people, is having superheros tied to something as unstable as political power. You can fear, for example, what a Trump-like president could do if he had power over the Avengers because, again, the heros are not corrupt, their line of command is. Now, if we strip away all the idealization we had putted on this bunch of powered persons and see them as what they truly are at the end of the day, people like everyone else. Why are we supposed to believe they are immune to corruption? If we also consider the phenomenon of strong privatization of security that has been growing worldwide . Wouldn’t they be more like security workers working for a private contractor? Less like heros and more like private military / security officers?  Now, this is what we are talking about. 

What feels so different from this show is that it assumes a surprisingly realistic point of view on a modern fantasy we are very used to consuming and still constructs a new power fantasy that empowers the viewer. I’ m saying this as an MCU fan, I had grown too comfortable with this optimistic fantasy and this twist from it is brilliant. To put some context on what i want to say here i will try to explain myself first on why i think that superhero fiction have this enormous popularity today and it has become such a huge thing in entertainment. Besides of the obvious reason of big companies producing big exciting action blockbusters for the genre, it’s curious to think on how much these stories gathered a lot of progressive audiences. In past decades action blockbusters didn’t felt progressive, today’s superhero blockbusters were embraced by progressive audiences and this was the start of a twist in general for the media. I think that there is a contextual social reason for this, not the only factor but one i feel is considerable. 

Late Stage Capitalism crushed us, we are so used to injustice and the control the system has over us is so big that we have slowly stopped dreaming of changing it ourselves. Instead, the fantasy of a superhuman who has the power we don’t have saving us from oppression feels really comforting. Captain America becoming such a huge icon in the middle of a time where extreme facism is rising again all over the world, for example. I don’t know much about his comic counterpart but, at least from what i see in the movies, Steve’s ideals feel to me like all those aspects from French Revolution’s  Enlightenment that capitalism dropped away once bourgeois defeated their feudal rivals and capitalism got consolidated, the freedom and equality that feudal lower classes fought for. Today, we feel too small to make a difference so we enjoy the fantasy of powerful persons leading the fight for us. Capitalism feels more unstoppable than ever, it is the only thing who seems strong to remain in a terribly chaotic world. The suffering this cruel system brings to this world is overwhelming, we feel only a miracle can save us now. This is what feeds the narrative of the superhero as modern myth and saviour of humanity.

The Boys tosses aside all our hopes and dreams, presenting us with the most realistic escenario. Superheros are not the miracle we are waiting for, they are humans like everyone else. They are not sacred entities existing beyond our societies, they are part of the system and they insert on it as part of the security industries. They can be corrupted and they work in corrupt institutions in benefit of the ruling class like every other security provider in capitalist societies. They become a new face of the security forces in constant tension with police and military because the myth of the superhero provides them with the public trust those other two forces lost. People lost their trust in cops but they trust sups because they are supposed to be this noble individuals mobilized by their personal feelings of injustice trying to make the world a better place … right? Police are the forces of the ruling class but superheros are supposed to be with us, or at least this is what common sense and propaganda claim, having our hopes as a base to work on. 

For someone so used to the typical superhero fantasy this felt like a slap on my face back to reality. It soo accurate , the system tends to capture any revolutionary input and turn it into profit. Even if the sups could had been a revolutionary factor at the beginning, the most likely thing to happen is for them to become a profitable industry. If we add to this what we already know of the actions of police and military in our real world we have a combo for disaster. The realistic twist is so fresh and painfully real, i can totally see this happening in real life if superheros were a thing. 

We have already introduced ourselves in the world of this story, let’s check on the first main character this series introduces to us. Hughie Campbell, a college age guy who works in an electronics store, lives with his dad and has the most boring average life you can imagine. This guy who is too afraid to ask his boss for a pay raise changes overnight when a superhero kills his girlfriend in front of him and the big corporation the asshole works for covers up the whole thing. The “average guy becomes a hero” trope is not new at all, but the use it has here feels fresh because it is not there only to feed the male geek power fantasy. Hughie is not a geeky average guy only so geeky average guys can identify with him in an action series full of geeky references,he is not there to be the nerdy guy from Robot Chicken. Hughie’s characterization makes a point for everyone. The smallest most unimportant person, the one who can't even stand up for themselves in everyday situations, can make a change. Remember Samwise Gamgee fighting Shelob in Lord of the Rings? Hughie killing Translucent gives me that vibe. If we consider the point i already stated about superheroes being there when we feel too small to fight back injustice, this is the exact opposite. This is a fantasy that gives us the power, makes us think in our own strengths. Hughie is standing up for himself for the first time in his life and he inspires us to fight for our rights. 

Pharmaceutical,Security and Entertainment industries and their business system : Superheros as lab rats,elite security forces and celebrities. 

This part of the post is the hardest to write and the most exquisite. There is so much to talk about about this system Vought shaped tying these three billionaire industries together. The first thing i want to mention, as a point to start, is Butcher’s ramble over the teddy bear with a camera inside in his meeting with Hughie. Perfect introduction for the character with a delightful moment of commentary. In our current societies people live in constant fear for hundreds of reasons. Fears over street crime had skyrocketed all over the world even when crime is not growing uniformly in every country and that accelerated the privatization of security, fears of parents over the strangers they leave they kids with when they are not home inspired products like the one mentioned in the series’s moment, fears on the effects of processed foods are an impulse for the diet industry and i could keep naming lots of other examples. Fears, and the emotional response they trigger , are the base of profitable businesses. 

I had been reading some authors that describe this stage of capitalism as an emotional one. Capitalism preached science and rationality during the past century but today its base of support is an emotional one. To excite the sensations of the people as consumers, to eliminate rational criticism, to push anti popular agendas through emotional excitement and mass hysteria. To cite another example that you can consider bounded to the series, Right Realism in Criminology is now almost common sense and there are people who keep asking for harsher punitive systems. This ideology, with the help of media panic, goes straight after their feelings and fears of being victims of violent crimes. Rational thinking is not the area of discussion, the base of the argument is on fear and pain. Fear of being potential victims, pain shared with the victims thinking in solutions that sound more like revenge than justice. 

Going back to my point, in the world of The Boys this type of punitivism seems to have succeeded even in a greater way than in our current world because it has superheros as backup. If real life harsh punitivism feeds on fear and a wish for social revenge, in this world it has the positive emotions supes inspire on people as a trust certificate for the persons who may not feel that way. They are loved and worshipped celebrities, their faces are everywhere, they have thousands of fans… who would see flaws in what they do? Can you imagine a world in which we worshipped cops and soldiers like we worship celebrities? This is it, people put their blind faith in them because most of them seem to be their fans. Even the people who are against brutality in the actions of security forces would end up trusting them because they are famous people. Our culture has taught us to make ourselves blind to the bullshit we see on the celebrities we love. Fans have a strong emotional attachment to their favourite celebs and this can turn into emotional manipulation in this context. If actors or singers in real life can have a fanbase that forgets to see them as human people how would these actual superhumans not end up being worshipped as gods? 

There has always been military propaganda in entertainment but this marriage between the industries through superheros is far more sinister than that. It makes you think about the unfair amount of credibility we put in celebrities. The plane crash scene of Homelander and Maeve it’s even more devastating looking at it from that perspective. Those persons had their full trust in them and they were safer with the terrorists. Can you imagine being a Homelander fan and dying there?  That’s horrible, the last thing you get in your life is the biggest disappointment ever from someone you trusted and stanned. 

 Speaking of Homelander, he is a right wing wet dream and one of the best villians i had ever seen, he makes me feel sick with how fucking despicable he is. His character is an excellent point to start the ramble on the third wheel of this corporate nightmare. Superheros are products of the pharmaceutical industry, injected with a drug since they were babies. In his particular case, he was raised like a lab rat and the series is realistic even in this detail. The lab rat kid with superpowers is another common trope that we see pretty often and here it also gets twisted. I’m thinking for example on Eleven from Stranger Things, she has been raised by abusive scientists who treated her as an experiment, yet she is this sweet kiddo who has a hard time socializing. Instead, Homelander is a monster without conscience or mercy and seems to be severely affected by his abnormal childhood. Brilliant, he is the ultimate product of this corporative triangle and depicts everything that's wrong with it. 

The cycle is pretty clear: drugs create them, they play their role in security and their media notoriety justifies their actions. As it is shown in season one,  the security aspect of the corporate complex represented mostly in Homelander’s actions craves to grow bigger and get supes into the military since, in the startpoint of the series, they only work with cops. Since the industry feeds on fear and Vought seems to have a monopoly in the production of powered persons there were no threats big enough to justify the intervention of superhumans in wars. Dismissing the importance of this monopoly for the company, Homelander suministrates the drug to terrorist groups in an attempt to create the first super villains. This is a perfect analogy of how the american war machine works. There is no way for terrorist groups from Third World countries to get access to sophisticated war technology without help from the ones who wield that power better than anyone. The first mentions of the supe terrorists reminded me of when i was in my course of worldwide history in college and i learned there how most of those famous names in middle eastern terrorism were actually friends with the CIA before at some point. Here in South America we have other history regarding the style of USA intervention, the Plan Condor dictatorships in the 70’s and early 80’s. I was just starting my career when I had a month of history classes about the Middle East and, being pretty ignorant on the matter, it shocked me the way in which the US villainized people they used to work with. I think the series makes a great point with this part of the plot because it hints something of this war mechanics. 

Gender politics of the series: a surprisingly complex approach on the topic of sexual assault ,a realistic critic to bland white feminism and the empty cashgrabbing ways in which mainstream media adapts feminist discourse.

This topic was even a bigger surprise for me. I wasn't expecting such an interesting approach of gender issues, mostly because this is the area in which media wannabe woke messages had become more dissapointing to me lately. Specially in a show about superheros, i wasn't expecting to get very interesting points.

I will start talking of the portrayals of sexual assault. We have two sexually assaulted characters in the series, Starlight and Becca. First, i think it is great that they didn't used the "rape as character development" trope. Actually, it's cool how they mock this conceptions. When Starlight saves a woman from being raped on the streets or when she makes a public statement about her sexual assault it's the people behind her, building her public image as a character, the ones who push that trope. In the first time their great character development idea is to sexualize her outfit, after the second event mentioned they literally push her sexual assault as development. I love how the public relationships team acts oftenly in a men writing women way, serving as mirror for the most common mistakes of writers on pop culture products when they write female characters.

Going back to my point, i like the effort they putted into portraying differences in both cases. Homelander is the typical portrayal of a rapist, a narcisistic monster without remorse, a deranged son of a bitch. The Deep is also a piece of shit, but of a different kind. There is a phrase that feminists of my country had popularized " los violadores son hijos sanos del patriarcado" ( it means, the rapists are healthy sons of the patriarchy. It tries to explain they are not crazy individuals who act outside societal circunstancies), the Deep reminded me of that.

He is not crazy, he is an insecure guy with a super fragile ego who abuses women for power. Insecurity on men under patriarchy tends to become bashing of women. This is not a black and white portrayal of a sex criminal, it is surprisingly complex. Of course,his actions were unexcusable. He will never repay what he did to Starlight and other women before her but he has chances of working on his issues and, eventually if he trully wants to get better, stop being the scumbag he is. He is not a deranged criminal whose only fate is to be neutralized for the safety of others.

I think this is important because, at least in my country, i had seen people using sex offenders as an example of why countries without death penalty should implement it. I don't support extreme autoritarian security measures and it makes me sick to hear that there are people claiming those as solutions in the name of women's safety. I like the approach they took to portray The Deep as the piece of shit he is but still showing the complexity of this issue instead of going for a more traditional dichotomic way.

Back to the mocking of mainstream media's attempts of adopting a feminist approach i mentioned, the season two got even better at this commentary on the "Strong Female Character" trope with the introduction of Stormfront. She is the literal embodiment of what shitty marketing says an empowered female character must be and has the biggest "I'm not like other girls" complex ever. That interaction she had with Starlight in "pink = bad, pants = cool" mood was super annoying and blaming her for the assault?? Freaking disgusting.

Honestly, i hated her soo much even before she showed her true colours completely. Stormfront represents everything i hate in Hollywood's feminism and the crappy meaningless messages it's pushing lately. She reminds me to all the fake "woke" advertisements i had seen on tv, like a Carefree (pads brand) advertisement that pissed me off last week because with the slogan " self trust is beauty" it portrayed girls who wear make up as fake and insecure.

Now, speaking of that particular scene of her killing Kimiko's brother. I felt literally sick, even sicker than in every Homelander scene. This bitch is worst than Homelander because at least he gathers a public that serves to his views. If you ever need to provide someone with a proof of why intersectionality in feminism matters use this racist bitch. Horryfying racism hidden behind the progressive mask of a bullshit privileged version of feminism, the thing i hate the most. She has a strong nazi terf vibe. I think she absolutely applies as mirror of critic to stuff like Rowling's terf nonsense. 

The introspective look this series has regarding the multiple issues on today’s attempts of gender approach on media entertainment surprised me. It’s everything i would had wished something to point out but nobody seemed to have the guts to make it happen because, as i already said, the current trend is what it’s being focus of critic here. 

I will end this now, i feel there is plenty of more stuff to talk about but this post is getting very long and, if i get more ideas i want to discuss, i can always make a second post. As i said before, this expresses my humble opinions and i’m open to hear different interpretations that can enrich my views. 

Thanks for reading this extra long ramble. 

[yayeetsonny]

Leaving Home~Tobin Heath x Reader

Prompt: Tobin leaving to play at Arsenal 

Requested by: @dyingforacause​  

Welcome aboard the angst train! Please keep your arms, legs and all personal items inside the car at all times. Next stop Angst-Ville. Enjoy!

Tobin PRO//

I have a pretty big dilemma in my life right now and I’m not sure what to do. You see I currently live in the United States and play for the Portland Thorns in the NWSL and the United States Women’s National Team. It’s been great and I’ve passed some of the best milestones of my career playing here in the states. The problem is I was offered a deal to play with Arsenal’s Women’s team in the UK that I couldn’t refuse. It seems simple enough, right? Just move to the United Kingdom for the duration of your contract with them, play a season or maybe two overseas and then come home. I could remain on the National team and I could continue to attend camps (If I am called up) and tournaments or friendlies. Piece of cake. 

Except… It’s not. My girlfriend Y/N L/N lives here in the states and she is the most important person to me. Leaving her is not going to be easy and it could be the end of our relationship. The other thing is that I haven’t exactly told her that I’m leaving yet, and I leave in 2 days. 

Now I know what you’re thinking “You idiot! How could you not tell her you’re leaving yet? 2 days?!”

I know, I know but I was never able to find the right time to tell her. There isn’t one. I went for a walk to think and I was finally returning to our apartment in Portland. When I opened the door I saw Y/N asleep on the couch, smiling softly I quietly made my way over to her and picked her up. Carrying her to our room, she clung to me like a koala and it was pretty cute. I laid her down as gently as I could, covering her with a blanket I quietly made my way to the kitchen to make dinner. After I finished, I went to wake her so we could eat together and talk about our day. I also decided that I was finally going to tell her I was leaving. I really hope she forgives me.

“Y/N?” I said softly while shaking her awake.

“Wha- Toby?” She asked still half asleep.

“Yeah babe it’s me.”

“Back from your walk already?”

“I was gone for almost 2 hours, love.” I said chuckling

“I’ve been asleep that long?”

“Seems like it babe. Dinner’s ready, you ready to eat?”

“Mhm. Carry me, please?”

“Of course my love, anything for you.”

As I picked her up and carried her to the table I couldn’t help but think of all the little things about her I would miss.I’m going to miss her Y/H/C hair, I’ll miss her Y/E/C eyes, the way her nose twitches like a bunny when she’s going to sneeze, the way she tosses and turns in her sleep, only settling when she finds my hand and intertwines our fingers, her ever contagious laugh and most of all I’ll miss her beautiful smile. I know pictures, video chats and phone calls are a thing but none of them come close to the real thing.

“Here we are. We’re having your favorite. Y/F/D”

“Oh, baby. You’re so sweet. Thank you.” She said, caressing my cheek and giving me a gentle kiss.

“Anything for you.”

“Can we get ice cream for dessert?”

“Of course we can.” If you haven’t broken up with me by then. I thought

We ate comfortably, talking about anything and everything and laughing to our hearts content. We would share sweet kisses here and there and I found myself falling for her all over again. I suddenly didn’t want to go anywhere. Wherever she is, is where I belonged and I didn’t want to break her heart and mine by leaving but I knew I had to. She was just starting to pull me to the car to go get ice cream like I said but I stopped her in her tracks when I blurted everything out.

“I’m leaving!”

“What? What’re you talking about? Leaving where?”

“I’m-I’m leaving you. I’m not breaking up with you!” I said quickly as I saw her eyes fill with tears.

“Then what the hell do you mean by “Leaving me.” Tobin?”

She let go of my hand and shoved me away from her, she was already angry and I hadn’t even told her the whole situation.

“I was offered a deal to play for Arsenal and I took it.” I said quietly

“When do you leave?”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday?! Tobin, that’s 2 days from now!”

“I know, okay?!”

“How long have you known?”

“What?”

“I said, How. Long. Have. You. Known?” Her voice was dangerously low and I knew I had to tell her the truth. 

“Since the beginning of December.”

“December?! That was 3 months ago Tobin!”

“I’m aware of that thank you!”

“If you knew for that long, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared, Y/N! I was scared okay?”

“Scared of what?!”

“Of losing you!”

“Oh my god Tobin! So let me get this straight, you were scared that if you told me about Arsenal that I would break up with you?”

“Yes!”

“Then how is telling me 2 days before you get on a plane and fly a world away from me supposed to make it any better?!”

“I don’t know. Y/N, I’m sorry.”

She was crying now and knowing that I was the reason tore me apart.

“How could you do this to me?”

Her voice was quiet but full of emotion, she refused to look at me.

“Y/N… Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.” I said, reaching to take her hand but once again she pushed me away.

“Y/N…Please.”

I was trying but failing miserably to hold it together and I knew that if she told me to go I’d respect her wishes but I’d be leaving my heart behind.

“I love you. You are the love of my life but, I don’t think I can forgive you for this.” She said, her voice cracking and lip quivering.

“Y/N, no… please don’t do this.”

“I thought you would be honest with me Tobin. That was one of the promises we made to each other at the beginning of this relationship. You know how important honesty is to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I really am and I’ll keep saying that everyday until you forgive me.”

“No. I don’t want some stupid apology! An “I’m sorry.” Can’t fix this!”

“Can we please just talk this out? I’ll do anything. Anything, for you.”

“Stop! Don’t say that!”

“Don’t say what?!”

“That you’ll do “Anything.” For me.” 

“But I would. You know that!”

“I thought I did, obviously not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Promising to do anything for someone you’re in a relationship with, means that sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”

“I’ve made plenty of sacrifices, what are you talking about?!”

I was shocked she was talking about “making sacrifices” if anyone had made any for this relationship, it was me.

“Really?! When was the last time you made one?”

“When I moved into this apartment with you! You know how important my parent’s house was to me but you made me sell it anyways to live with you!”

“Oh, please. Seriously Tobin? Who requested a transfer of teams, spent all of their savings to buy this apartment and moved all the way across the country so we could be together?!”

“I never asked you to do that, and you know it. That was a decision you made.”

“I wanted us to work!”

“We already were!”

“We never saw each other, and we fought constantly. I sacrificed everything I had, for you! For us!”

“Your career has flourished since you got here!”

“That’s irrelevant right now. Just don’t go, simple.”

“I have to. I already agreed that I would.”

“So call them and say you changed your mind.”

“It’s not that simple. This could better my career, don’t you want that for me?”

“Not if it means leaving me behind.”

“What? So everything is about you now?”

“I’ve made you more important than my career, why can’t you do the same for me?”

“I never asked you to!”

“You didn’t have to, you said it with you actions and how you treated me before I moved here.”

“At this moment, I have to put myself first. I have to take this chance. I can’t put you above my career, I’m sorry.” I said standing my ground.

“If you’re planning to marry me, which by the looks of the diamond ring I found, you are, you need to call them and tell them you’re staying here.”

“Wait, what?” 

I had hidden a ring in a place I thought she wasn’t going to find it way before I accepted the deal with Arsenal. She knows?

“Yeah Tobin, I found the ring.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry! What, were you planning on proposing to me and then leaving? Wow, what an engagement gift.”

“No! It’s not like that. I bought the ring before going overseas was even in the picture.”

“Either way, I don’t want anything to do with you Tobin. You broke my trust and my heart.”

“You don’t think my heart is just as broken having to do this?!”

“Not really! If it was, you wouldn’t go.”

“I have to! Why can’t you just let me?”

“I can, but if you do I won’t wait for you.”

“So you’re not even going to try to make this work?”

She turned on her heel and stormed into our room, taking the ring from its hiding spot. She came back and shoved it into my chest, that was enough for me to know that it was over.

“Get out.”

“I’m sor- I’ll go, but I need to come back for my stuff before I leave.” I said, grabbing my jacket and motorcycle helmet.

“I don’t care, just go.” She said.

She wouldn’t even look at me, having moved as far away from me as possible. I opened the door, and in what felt like painfully slow motion I turned to look at her one more time.

“I love you, Y/N L/N. You are the love of my life and always will be.”

I went through the door, closing it softly. Waiting for a moment, I listened, and through the door I heard her heartbreaking sobs, loud and full of anguish. I knew I had hurt her in an irrepairable way by doing this and for all the things I had said but it was too late to take it back. I rested my head on the door wishing, waiting for her to open it and forgive me but I knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

I left the apartment complex in a rush, my heart in pieces over the end of our 4 year relationship. I know I had messed up big time but I thought we would be able to work though it and handle the distance, but I guess I was wrong.

When I returned to the apartment 2 days later I was surprised to find my key still worked. When I went inside I noticed that all my stuff was in the living room in a several boxes. It was organized and there was a note sitting on top.

“Tobin,

I got all your stuff together for you so it’d be easier for you to take. I also ordered you a moving truck because I know you forgot. While I still love you and wish you the best at your new club, It was too hard for me to be in the apartment when you came to get your things. You won’t be seeing me again. I’m sorry things between us ended this way. I will always love you, but I hope you find someone new and that you are able to move on from this.”

-Y/N L/N

I crumpled up the note and threw it across the room. All my emotions from the last few days finally spilled out and I collapsed on the floor. I cried until I couldn’t breath, my head was spinning and I felt like I was dying. I laid there for what felt like hours (It was 10 minutes) before I finally gathered the strength to get up and start taking my stuff downstairs. True to her word, there was a moving truck waiting for me outside.

“Uhh… Tobin Heath?” The guy asked

“That’s me.”

After another hour or so I had everything in the truck and was ready to leave. I got on my bike and rode to my friends house and from there I would go to the airport where I would catch my plane to the United Kingdom. I was leaving my bike with a trusted friend of mine, Alex. Getting on that plane was one of the most painful things I had to do, aside from leaving Y/N behind. I knew I could move on like she said but it would take a long time before I was even close to that.

2 years later…

It’s been 2 years since I moved overseas to play for Arsenal and after initially being hesitant and struggling to get in the groove of things, I now found myself at home here. I had made friends quickly, and the team had no problem accepting me as a member of their squad. My best friend Jordan Noobs was my rock, my person. She helped me through my heartache when I first got here and has stuck by me ever since. We got along great and instantly connected, she was a crack up and constantly kept me on my toes. I still traveled to the states sometimes but only for national team duties, nothing else. My national teammates knew what happened with Y/N and some of them were mad at me for it but we’re working on our relationships and doing better. I did still think of Y/N from time to time but I had moved on from the unbearable heartache I had originally felt. I wasn’t dating anyone but I was happy where I was.

“Yo, Jordan! Pass it!” I shouted across the field, our chemistry on the field was unmatched and we almost always played together in games. We were in a scrimmage at training and as per usual we were making all of our passes to each other and helping each other score.

“Tobin! Head it!” She yelled back as she crossed the ball to me and I headed it passed the goalie, Manuela Zinsberger. 

“Nice, T! Way to nail em!” She said running over to me and crushing me in a hug. 

“Only thanks to you J!” 

After we wrapped up training Jordan, some of our other teammates and I all went out to eat. I was so engrossed in our conversation about which was better, Pepsi or Coke that I didn’t know my phone was ringing until Jordan pointed it out.

“Tobin?... You gonna get that?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Excuse me just a sec, I’ll be right back.”

I looked at the screen and my heart stopped seeing the name Y/n L/N flash across it for the first time in 2 years. I never found the strength in myself to delete her number. I almost let it go to voicemail, I was standing frozen to my spot by the bathrooms but I snapped out of it at the last second and answered it.

“Hello?... Y/N?”

“Hi Tobin, good to hear you voice again.”

“You’re calling because?…” It came out harsher then intended but I wasn’t open to feeling heartbroken all over again.

“I uhh, I’m in town and was wondering if you wanted to get coffee and chat?” She asked nervously.

“You want to see me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“I want to try to make amends for what happened between us.”

“I’m the one who left you.”

“Yes but I broke up with you, remember?”

“Okay, and?”

“Look, Tobin will you please just meet me somewhere... please?”

I was silent for a moment, mulling over my options. I was conflicted, I was happy here and I had finally gotten over losing her. But there was a part of me that wanted to see her, I had missed her and wanted to make amends too. So after another moment I finally agreed.

“Where?”

“The coffee shop down the road from the pub in mid-town. Be there at 8?”

“Okay, 8 o’clock. See you.”

“See you then.”

I returned to the table and did my best to conceal the shocked “Just seen a ghost” look I’m sure I was sporting. Jordan tried to ask me what was up but I just said I’d fill her in tomorrow and with that I grabbed my jacket and left to go meet Y/N.

To say I was nervous was an understatement but I wasn’t backing out now. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen when I saw her for the first time in 2 years, I could only hope I wouldn’t be left heartbroken again.

//

Wow. okay, I listened to some depressing ass songs in order to be able to write that. breaking my own heart in the process, whoops. I hope I did it justice. 

Sorry for any mistakes.

-N

[aethes-bookshelf]

Forever || Alucard (Castlevania)/Reader

This is Part 2 of “Always”! Part 1 is here. I have a third part in my WIPs, so expect it soon. It’s going to be in a veeery different setting tho. (Honestly? At this point I’m expecting “Always” to become a full-fledged fic)

Pairing: Alucard/Reader

Warnings: angst, lots of angst

AO3 link

Before Alucard had the chance to properly start making dinner, he heard a crash. He turned around quickly and felt his heart stop for a moment. You were laying on the floor, holding onto your chest. He rushed to you faster than he thought he could move, stretching his arm out to touch you, help you up, but he didn’t know what he should do first.

“What is it? What happened?” he asked, looking you over. Alucard was more than painfully aware of how little time you had left. A part of him screamed to turn you, to forever keep you by his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. That would mean stripping you of your humanity. He would never see you smile on a sunny day again; he would be forced to feed you the blood of your people instead of your favorite meals. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t rob you of the warmth of summer days. So he opted for watching you age and giving you the best last years he could.

“I don’t know. Funny how often I fall lately. I’m starting to fear I won’t live to see another day.” You laughed humorlessly and looked up at him. “Don’t look so sad, love. We both know that day will come eventually. In the meantime, do you mind helping me up?”

Alucard carefully grabbed you by the arms and sat you up. “Are you sure you can stand?”

“Yes, I feel a bit better now, thank you.” You got up slowly, leaning on Alucard’s shoulder. “I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit. I bet a little nap will fix me up right away.”

He frowned slightly; hadn’t you just woken up from a nap not that long ago? A strange, heavy feeling squeezed his chest. The same feeling that haunted him each time something bad was about to happen. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Do you need any help going to your room?”

“Oh, please. I know I’m old, but I can walk on my own. I’ll be just fine.”

Alucard sighed. “Still, I don’t feel comfortable letting you go alone right after you collapsed.” You shook your head and smiled fondly. “You really need to stop worrying about me so much. I’m fine, really. It was just a moment of pain, I’m sure it wasn’t anything serious.” Still, you took him by the hand and led him out of the kitchen.

—–

Your room was big. So big, that you would complain about it sometimes. There was too much space, what were you supposed to do with it? You spent very little time there anyway.

Right the opposite of the door stood your bed. And even now, you would insist on changing the covers yourself despite losing strenght — though that meant Alucard would be here, watching your every move just in case something happened.

Alucard walked you right to the edge of the bed and held your hand as you were sitting down. He sat beside you and watched as you tucked yourself in with that fond look in his eyes. It used to fluster you when you were younger, but now it just made you feel safe. It was nice knowing he still loved you, despite your body being old and withered. It made your chest warm every time you thought about it.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you noticed he wasn’t getting up. Or leaving. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Alucard shook his head and reached for the book that laid on your nightstand. “I’ll stay here for now.”

“You can’t just not eat, love. You may be a dhampir, but it’s still unhealthy.” You insisted. “How about that — I’ll take a quick nap and you’ll go make dinner. Then you can come back here, and we’ll eat together, alright?”

“You really are stubborn, aren’t you? You won’t stop until I’ve eaten, right?”

“You know me so well.” You patted him on the hand. “Now shoo, you ought to eat.”

—–

Alucard was walking through the corridor with two steaming plates in his hands. He couldn’t help but notice that heavy feeling in his chest growing stronger. He was just worried because you’d collapsed earlier. That was normal, who wouldn’t be? Even though, he couldn’t help but walk faster.

“Dinner’s ready.” He said as he pushed open the door to your bedroom. “As I’ve said, I found the ingredients for your favorite, so…” He paused when he heard silence. No words but his, no movement… no breathing.

He dropped the plates as he rushed to your bed. He fell to his knees beside it and grabbed your hand. He pressed his fingers to your wrist. No pulse. He frantically leaned over you and checked your neck. Still, no pulse. That’s when panic finally set in. He pushed the covers out of the way and started to rhythmically press on your chest, just like his mother taught him to so many years ago. No matter that you were already starting to get cold and stiff. No matter that he just couldn’t get any reaction from you. No matter that some part of him already realized that you were gone. Forever. After what felt like nearly an hour, he finally stopped. His arms felt like they were on fire, but his chest hurt so much more. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. So what if the logical part of him knew this was a long time coming? It didn’t make the pain any lesser. Alucard collapsed on top of your body and let out a loud, heart-wrenching sob. Tears fell from his eyes freely as he held onto your cold hand. Gone, gone, gone. Just like everyone else. He should’ve turned you when he still had the chance. He should’ve, but he didn’t. And now his worst nightmare became reality.

—–

Alucard buried your body the next day, but he didn’t feel anything anymore. It was like the him from after the battle with his father was back again – and stronger than ever. As Alucard rhythmically moved his shovel, he tried to make himself feel something, anything, but his mind was empty. He knew that void — it was just the silence before the storm. He just had to wait until everything settled, and then his new reality would hit him. He was sure he would break apart, but that moment wasn’t now. Now he was burying the love of his life.

After he made sure your body was completely covered, he came back to the castle. He would have to make a tombstone for you tomorrow. But that was for tomorrow. He slowly walked to your room. Now was his last chance to fully take in the last pieces of your presence before it fully withered away and disappeared along with you. Alucard locked the door when he came in. He laughed a bitter laugh; as if there was anyone left to come in and disturb his mourning. He sat down in your chair and took in the entire room. Your closet, your desk, your bookshelf, your bed; everything was still the way you left it. He didn’t think he would ever find the strength in himself to clean everything up. If he didn’t, he could still pretend you would come back. He desperately wanted to believe that.

Then his eyes fell on the portrait he made you.

You were still young when he painted it. He would cringe while looking at it sometimes, insisting he could repaint it. He had got better with age after all. But you had denied every offer he made. You had loved that painting for some reason and hadn’t wanted to replace it no matter what he had said. And now, you were looking at him form that canvas with such warmth in your eyes.

That’s when he broke down for the second time.

He doubled over and clawed at his shirt. Everything was too much, he couldn’t go on anymore. He was alone. Everyone left him, even you. He felt like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and stomped into the ground. So he cried harder than ever in his life. His sobs and heaved breaths were the only sound in the room; they echoed in the corridors of the castle.

It took a long time for Alucard to finally calm down enough to see properly. Occasional sobs still shook his body, but he didn’t have the strength to cry anymore. He stood up and walked over to your bed. He collapsed and grasped at your pillow. Your scent was the strongest here; he buried his nose in your blankets and hiccupped silently. As he calmed down, he felt a strange warmth, as if someone was hugging him tightly. A nice thought appeared — that you still were there somewhere, looking over him. He could only hope to join you someday, just like he hoped his father had joined his mother after death.

“I love you” he whispered, and he could’ve sworn that he heard a faint voice reply. He closed his eyes and let a few more tears roll down his face.

He slept a dreamless, restless sleep.

[paramsiddharth]

#15: The Independence Day

However tempting the title may be at suggesting my life is at peace now, it painfully isn't. I don't want this to prevent me from glorifying the decades of freedom from colonization we have enjoyed, how much we have recovered from post-colonization trauma, and how we are more responsibly planning to evolve in future. Lots of love to my country. I love my dear Bihar, I love India. I am grateful to my parentland for everything it gave me, such as the beautiful cultural heritage and the opportunity to identify myself as a proud Indian. 🇮🇳 I give my heartfelt pranaam to my nation.

Why is it always such that I make a post, disappear for months (or years), and then make a sudden reappearance? I love writing. Why this discontinuity? I asked myself this question.

I realized it is because I am always too overwhelmed by my past and future to express my present without hurting myself. And don't expect me to mourn that; It is part of my situational awareness, learning from my experience, and practical preparedness and I'm not ashamed.

I'm not proud either, but there's little I can do to change the circumstances I'm put in. The very reason behind my continuous complaining and being a crybaby is because that's what has happened to me throughout my life, and continues to. There are plenty of people to blame, but definitely not me.

I will start talking about the time after the day I posted that Kharagpur blog, but I will move in a logarithmic fashion i. e. Increasing the amount of focus on the part closer to the plateau (present) rather than the cliff (past).

Do you use olive oil at home? Is it a common ingredient in most of the food that you have at home? I recently learnt an interesting truth about food oils. Mustard oil, olive oil, and refined oil are the 3 major oils used to cook. In my family everything is cooked in mustard oil. I used to watch recipe videos and wonder why the colour of the oil looked so different. Turns out they generally use olive oil.

Based on what mom told, mustard oil is much more fatty and considered not good for health, at least in comparison to olive oil. That being said, mustard oil comes for a lot cheaper than olive oil. So do we use less healthy oil to cook food for saving money? Yes. Are we the only ones? I really don't know.

As much as I don't want to, I pity myself. It's pathetic, but every time I pity myself, I assume it can't get worse. But it does. It very much does.

5-6 days ago, my parents had a very violent fight. I was there to get them to settle, and since my classes were not going on, I could give more time to home. Despite my struggle to get both my parents to be peaceful, they kept saying things to each-other for half the night, and kept hurting themselves, mentally and physically. I was there to help them, but they weren't welcoming to any support. And I understand why. They must feel like they are put into a position where they can't express themselves to anyone, and that nobody can feel what they are going through.

Folks and friends tell me not to get in between when they fight. I wouldn't… If only it remained verbal. But it gets worse. It gets physical, in a manner that they end up hurting their internal and external biologies causing more than just short-term damage. I barely manage to save the day everytime… Because I love them. I don't want to listen to my friends. My parents are my everything. Losing one of them means losing half of my life's purpose. I'm nothing without them, no matter how they are.

And I managed to calm them down. 3 days ago, we woke up to a news that wasn't initially so devastating: The water motor wasn't working. It had been a common problem, I easily assumed it will be fixed soon. We got it checked, had some analysis done, some parts bought. By evening, it was still being worked on, and that made the situation tense. The day ended with the news that the plumbers will come the next day and attempt a better fix, something they referred to as "slizing" (I think it supposed to be slicing). I didn't eat much that day, for reasons. Others ate less too.

So we got the "slizer" expert the next day. The whole day was going to be a wasted struggle again, and what happened at home made it far worse. The lack of food, hydration, and sanitation made our patience and moods worse. My parents had an argument, and once the light was sparked, it ended up being probably the worst fight they have ever had in the whole lifetime. One where they almost hit each-other. I came in between as a shield and got beaten up instead, gladly so. But will I always be able to get in between?

The situational dilemma hit me harder than the physical strokes. I was pulled down deep into the realization of how traumatizing the past 5 years have been for my parents. From being loving, caring, and supportive, they've become beasts. They have turned into people with no emotional control, and mood-swing patterns that encourages self-harm exclusive to interpersonal fights between those two.

As much as they fight, scream, misbehave, and misunderstand each-other while arguing, they are the only 2 adults I could ever rely on. The rest of my ostensible family has been far more hostile to us, in a much more heart-penetrating way than physically. Who else can I look up to? And even if I had anybody else to look up to, my parents are the 2 people I will never let go of. It is my life's purpose to see them happy, and I won't let anything go wrong before that happens.

Their hatred for each-other while fighting is no longer silenced by their want to live, and their heart no longer melts by the thought of their kids' happiness. They aren't able to think straight during a fight. What would a person in this condition be advised to do? Take therapy, I suppose. We can't afford that. Will the one who advises us pay for our therapy? I'm sure not.

Money is the one big thing in our life that's our biggest joy and harshest pain at the same time. If we had more money, none of our current problems in life would remain relevant. We will be able to cure everything, including our financial instability and mental illnesses. We will be off to a happy life, constantly evolving. If only we had more money. If only…

Let me slap myself out of this dream. It isn't here yet. A minimum of 2 years before I even get on my feet are to be borne with patience and… Struggle. No, my parents have to remain together, no matter what. The hardwork they did for their whole life, won't lose meaning so easily. We're close, and we will make it. I will get a good job and change everything. I will be able to fix us. I will do it… Won't I?

I wasn't able to cry, because I hadn't had water for 50+ hours. My parents eventually lost energy and got diverted by updates from the plumbers and the expert. It failed. They didn't even attempt the "slizing" part. Maybe next day.

Day 3. No eating, drinking, peeing, or excreting. We felt like lifeless blobs, and it was harder for us to make it through, considering my mom has an OCD. Although we were convinced that the service folks were fixing the water issue, we also knew the kind of people we have in Muzaffarpur. They were using our helplessness as a measure to maximize visible worktime and increase the payment. The only thing they were aiming for is profit. No sense of wanting to provide quality service, no concern for our degrading health, nothing. They were just extending and pulling out days from our lifeless schedule.

On day 3, we slightly hinted that this would be the last day we let them work. We ensured them that if they don't fix it by the end of the day, instead of wasting more money into something that isn't even working, we will urgently invest into getting a submersible pump installed, the ultimate answer to all water problems in the poverty-stricken lands of India.

God knows how, by the end of the day, water started coming. We were not relieved, especially I. Not instantly. I waited for the next morning, and then, was a little calmed. After having the payment report (just because I make it sound professional doesn't mean it was, it was an informal description of how much we have to pay and a disambiguation telling why), we realized the fixing cost us over ₹22,000. That's a lot of money for a sudden life problem. And then the motor stopped working again in the evening, whereafter we asked them to have a look again. A quickfix and it started working after adding some water in the pipe.

We are firm that the next step is to get a submersible pump, but even if we put aside the financial challenge for a moment, this season isn't the best one to get it installed. In fact, that should be our last resort, if all options are exhausted, like it would have been if day 3 ended in a disappointment too. But now we have some time to think, plan, and gather money. ₹80,000 isn't a small amount (that's to start, you know it's always more than it seems).

It was the independence day. Wow, what a beautiful day. An independent country, where there are lakhs of smiles of people happy and proud of their country. And lakhs of neutrally frowned faces who don't even know what a country is. All they know is food, water, shelter, and survival. I felt them, I can tell. It must be worse. I wish we had a little more independence too. A stable financial life, my mom's OCD cured, feels like a lovely eye-tearing dream.

Hahaha… I don't know why I'm crying. Is it because of the trauma of 3 painful days? Is it the fear of my parents getting into a fight again? Is it the painful possibility that I might not get a good job because of my not-so good college or my own ineligibility? Or is it just me, a 19 year-old who doesn't even know what to do with his life and is struggling to survive mentally, physically, biologically, academically, and socially?

For those 3 days, I was in a state of suffering. Since I didn't eat much, I didn't need to use the bathroom, but I would have loved to. I would have loved to satisfy my dry throat with some water. Having not drunk or eaten in days had fatigued me. If you want a feel of how long it had been, here's a day 3 picture of an initially dark yellow arhar dal cooked on day 1:

Still, I was receiving phone calls.

Them: Hey Param! What's up? Can you help me with this thing?

Me: Hi, I'm sorry, I can't… I'm kind of in a problem… ...(trying to explain my situation).

Them: That stinks! Sorry about that, dude. Take care. Oh, by the way, can you help me out with this quickly? I really need to do this.

This makes me realize how awfully tooled I have always let myself be. If it was a regular day, I would have probably let go of my busy time and helped them out, but I was in pain. I was enraged. Very angered by their stubbornness and lack of concern for my happiness, when I have always been the one who was there for them. I hung up and left my phone. I didn't feel like touching it anymore. Life felt obsolete.

Evening, day 4, we were preparing for dad's birthday next day. Planning a surprise, we ordered a cake for him by collecting some money. We were very excited. Little did we know our happiness was about to be shattered… That's when the water had stopped working again. We know it got fixed later, but the intensity of the trauma in the moment embedded itself deeply into our hearts, and despite the want to be excited, we weren't very relieved after the news that it was working again. We were constantly afraid it will stop working again.

We desperately tried to stay happy and celebrate his birthday. 12 AM, August 16, we sang happy birthday. Crying on the inside and smiling on the outside, we made ourselves believe that we ought to be happy for survival. The desperation was visible on our faces. Here are some pictures:

Now that I'm out of it (pray, the water works fine), I still don't feel so good about it. I want to hug my parents and stay in their arms forever. I want to see them smiling and keep talking to them forever. I want to be able to forget my pain and begin a happy life with my parents someday. Other people won't help me achieve that, I will.

I attempted to get myself a job offer at some good companies, and the recruiters would admit that I'm worthy and eligible and all, but then conclude, "…but our company generally gives only on-campus opportunities.". I get it. I'm not in an IIT. Not privileged enough to be allowed to compete with those IITians I'm far better than. I'll not have a chance, because they'll never come for on-campus opportunities to my college. Bless the IITs, for they've now stolen a hundred options of success from me despite my hardwork.

It is the interview season. I recently had a huge spam of texts and phonecalls by my seniors, asking, requesting, and even threatening me to help them with their online coding entrances. I clarified that I find it ethically wrong, but they continued to mentally disturb me by saying stuff that they, as my elders, shouldn't. I made a post on LinkedIn regarding that. I was so mentally tortured I couldn't take it anymore. And guess what? The responses were equally surprising and hostile.

A good number of people supported. By "supported", I don't mean "liked the post". Anybody would do that for free. Rather, some people appreciated my bravery and told me I did the right thing. On the other hand, some others simply scolded and criticized me brutally for the defamation of JUET, the possibility of JUET being blacklisted by recruiters, and making LinkedIn an unprofessional platform with my plea. What value I hath wrought from years of hardwork didn't seem to be anything to them. Shame on them for looking down on someone they should have been supportive to. And all those cowards who enjoy the perks of the flattery of such devil elders, may they suffer the consequences. Ahh!

Life is so stupid. Why am I working so hard? Whom for? Hello? Is anybody ever going to acknowledge me? Am I ever going to get any appreciation? EVER? Why me? Why? 😭

The question is on me. I've come far enough to understand how this universe works to a much better extent than before. Will I be able to plan my future strategically and always do what's right for me and my family? I hope I do. I hope I don't disappoint the one person who is always there to support me: Myself.

I had once felt like I saw God, but suddenly there was no God. I looked around. Nothing. I was alone. All by myself. Nobody was there to help me achieve my dreams. I suddenly felt this urge to be so grateful for what I have, and not assume that this is the worst it can get. It could get worse, and there's a lot I can get out of my present rather than worrying about my future. And you, dear reader, ought to be grateful for what you have, too.

I sincerely take my leave now. ❤️

Lots of love,

Param Siddharth.

[ellewritesfix05]

Prince Charming

Characters: Sam x Reader, Maggie, Jack, Dean, Bobby

Warnings: Fluff, like one or two “bad words”(?)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I was watching Mamma Mia 2 a couple days ago and thought up this little fic based on a song from the movie, Andante Andante by ABBA. I really hope you like it 💜 Listen to the song here . If you’d like to be added to my Sam Darlings taglist, let me know here  ☺️

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

The bunker had never been so full of life. Being part of the large group of people that was rescued from Apocalypse World by the Winchesters, you didn’t know this but, seeing the way Sam and Dean acted, it was apparent that they were not used to a busy bunker. For the past two weeks, you’d tried your best to help around the place, earn your keep by performing as many tasks as you could, anything from going out on hunts to cleaning the common rooms. 

For those two weeks, however, you’d also been getting close to the youngest Winchester. It was no secret to anyone that even though the whole family was to thank for your relocation, it was Sam who was the most involved with making sure you all felt safe and comfortable in this alternate universe you now called home. Working closely with him, you couldn’t help but develop a small, innocent crush on the tall hunter. 

Admittedly, it had begun with physical attraction, and who could blame you really? Tall and broad shouldered with long, silky hair and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, Sam quickly invaded your unrealistic day dreams of being swept off your feet by your very own Prince Charming. However, the physical appeal soon turned into an emotional affair. Not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he proved to be incredibly smart, strong, and most of all, kind. He didn’t know any of you but the way he took you in and took care of you would make anyone think you were his family. Not to mention, those hazel eyes that seemed to change color every now and then, like a beautiful autumn day. 

Yeah, you had it bad for Sam Winchester.

“Earth to (Y/N), anyone home?” Maggie’s snapping in front of your face brought you back to reality.

Looking down at the soaped glass you were supposed to be rinsing, you chuckled in embarrassment, “yeah, sorry Mags. Had my mind somewhere else.”

“Thinking about Sam again, I’m guessing?” Maggie elbowed you playfully. Ever since meeting back at camp in Apocalypse World, you and Maggie had become very close friends. She was more talented in research, while you were a very skilled hunter turned fighter which meant you complimented each other. That and the fact that there weren’t many other people left around the place and those who were didn’t exactly share in your interests. Then again, with the world falling apart around you, who had time for anything other than learning how to survive?

Being your closest friend, Maggie had quickly noticed your interest in Sam. You rolled your eyes but agreed nonetheless, “I was. I just can’t help it. Despite everything we’ve been through, I’m still a hopeless romantic at heart.”

“I get that. It’s okay, it’s good that you didn’t lose that little whimsical part of yourself,” she replied.

“I guess,” you smiled.

“You know,” Maggie started, “with everything going on I was thinking maybe we could have a little party? Have everyone hang out, maybe a little barbecue… and who knows? Maybe you can use that beautifully melodic voice of yours to win him over.”

“Yeah, right!” you snorted. Truth was, while you weren’t the most self-assured person on earth, the one thing you’d always been proud of was your voice. Not that there’d been much singing during the past years, but once in a blue moon you’d have little get-togethers with other people at camp and sing soft melodies of better days. That usually got you compliments, and once even an invitation to dinner by a friend, days before he was killed while out on a supply run. 

“Hey! I’m serious,” Maggie chuckled, “just wait until he hears you, he’ll be absolutely floored!”

You smiled and put the last dish on the rack for her to dry, “sure Mags, keep dreaming.”

After drying your hands, you walked out of the kitchen and back to your room. She could be on to something, you thought. Shaking your head at the ridiculous notion that your romantic life would play out like something out of a cheesy rom-com, you flopped down in bed and let sleep and your imagination create yet another impossible scenario for you to live in until morning came.

---

“So, I talked to Sam about the party and he said it was a good idea so it looks like it’s all systems go!” Maggie said, walking into your bedroom. 

You placed down the copy of The Marvelous Land of Oz that you’d been reading, upon Sam’s recommendation, on your nightstand and sat up, facing your friend, “what systems? Please tell me this isn’t about your ridiculous plan to get me to sing in the hopes that Sam will magically fall in love with me like I’m the little mermaid or something.”

“What? No!” Maggie lied, “not at all! I just thought the barbecue could be a fun way to have everyone let loose for a night. Like a celebration, and a thank you to the Winchesters.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, completely unconvinced but still deciding to play along, “very well, then. Let’s head out to get some supplies.”

Getting up from the bed, you both walked out of your bedroom and headed towards the library. Maggie stopped in her tracks, “Shoot. We’re going to need to borrow a car. Why don’t you go ask Sam if we can take one of the cars from the garage?”

“Why didn’t you ask him when you talked about the party?” you asked.

“I forgot, sorry.” Maggie shrugged.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll go,” you said, “wipe that smirk off your face, Mags. I’m just asking to borrow a car, not for a date.”

Entering the library, you quickly spotted Sam sitting on a table across the way from Bobby. You walked over to them and cleared your throat softly, waiting for him to notice you since you didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait at all since Sam noticed you right away.

“Hey (Y/N), how’s it going? Do you need something?” he asked, flashing you his signature sunshine smile.

“Uh yeah. I think Maggie talked to you about the barbecue she’s planning? We were hoping to borrow a car from the garage to go get the stuff we need,” you replied in an abnormally soft tone that made Bobby puzzled since he’d never known you to show timidity around anyone before.

Sam’s smile widened, “Yeah, sure thing! The spare keys are in the cabinet down there by the war table, first top drawer from the left.”

“Great, thanks!” you replied, quickly walking away before he could see your reddened cheeks. It was almost unsettling how this one man could have such an effect on you, especially since you’d never felt like this before. Grown ass woman with a schoolgirl crush, for fuck’s sake.

Meeting up with Maggie in the garage, your annoyance at her antics made her laugh as you climbed into a light blue 1972 Dodge Dart, a car you’d seen Sam drive before when Dean wouldn’t let him take the Impala.

---

Six hours later, the food was ready and you were helping Maggie set everything down on the library tables for people to help themselves. Proud of the result, you sat on one of the reading chairs off to the side, sipping on a glass of whiskey as everyone else gathered around the feast. Soon enough, the bunker filled with music, chatter, and laughter as the large group sat and ate while sharing anecdotes of their past before tragedy hit.

It was a couple hours, and more glasses of whiskey, later when someone suggested a song from you. Looking up from your drink, you smiled sheepishly, “Oh I don’t know.”

“Awe, come on (Y/N), you always used to sing for us after a nice meal!” Maggie chimed in, and the rest of your group hummed in agreement. 

“Maggie said you have a very nice voice, I’d really like to hear it too,” said Jack, who was sitting next to Sam and Dean.

“Uh, alright then since you asked so nicely,” you replied, rubbing your hands down your thighs in the hopes that the denim would soak up the moisture that had settled upon them.

Turning in their chairs to get a better view, the group placed their attention on you. Suddenly, you were painfully aware of Sam’s focus on you and closed your eyes to calm your unusually hyperactive nerves. Singing was your comfort, how could he make it any different by just looking at you?

Taking a deep breath, you began

Take it easy with me, please

Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze

Take your time, make it slow

Andante, andante

Just let the feeling grow

As your voice filled the room, smiles formed around you. Unbeknownst to you since your eyes avoided him, Sam had discarded his plate of food and found himself inexplicably more drawn to you than usual. While you thought he was simply showing you kindness, all this time he too had come to develop feelings for you. Feelings that the hunter refused to act upon, due to his own bad luck with previous relationships. 

Even though he was mesmerized by your beauty from the moment he met you, your voice was now like a siren’s song; enticing and soft, tugging at his heartstrings as he found himself leaning forward, gravitating to the source of such dulcet, beautiful sounds. Sam couldn’t help but be fascinated by you; the way your brow curved, the slight fidgeting of your fingers that moved as though you were playing an instrument. 

With newfound courage, you dared to look in his direction and the moment your eyes met, they locked on to each other in a way that made it so he became your sole audience. Everyone and everything around you dissolved until it was only you and Sam, together in the middle of a sea of infinite stars.

There's a shimmer in your eyes

Like the feeling of a thousand butterflies

Please don't talk, go on, play

Andante, andante

And watch me float away

Looking straight at him, you noticed a sparkle in his eye. It made you feel as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Without saying anything, those hazel orbs told you tales of pain and doubt, but also profound tenderness and, dare you say, love?

Andante, andante

Tread lightly on my ground

Andante, andante

Oh, please, don't let me down

Coming to an end, your voice faded into silence until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you back to reality, breaking the eye contact with Sam that neither of you had realized was visible to everyone around you.

Light clapping broke the tension and you looked to the source, Maggie, who was looking around at everyone as if to silently ask them to join in, which they did. Standing up from your chair, you gave a small smile and excused yourself, not risking a look Sam’s way. 

If you had, you would’ve noticed his disappointment at your escape as well as the teasing wink Dean gave his little brother.

Walking out of the bunker, you flopped down on a nearby bed of grass, silently begging to be swallowed by the earth then and there. Resting your head on your arms, you almost missed the sound of feet shuffling through grass behind you.

“Y/N? Can I join you?” Sam asked.

Looking up like a startled squirrel, you shot back up and ran your hand through your hair in an attempt to smooth it down. 

“Sam! Um, yeah sure,” you looked around and noticed he’d come out to see you alone.

“Hey, uh, is everything okay?”

You nodded and sat back down on the grass, legs crossed, motioning for him to join you.

“I’m okay, just felt kind of tired. Long day,” you said as he sat next to you, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him.

“You sure? I want to make sure that you’re feeling comfortable here. And I wanted to apologize if I made you feel awkward in there, I didn’t mean to stare,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair and making you wish it was your fingers flowing through the silky strands instead.

You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked towards the trees to avoid his gaze once more, “No. It was my fault, I’m the one that made it look like I was serenading you or something. Which, I wasn’t. It was just a thing that I did, but I am sorry for making you uncomfortable and you didn’t have to come and apologize, you didn’t do anyth-”

“Woah, Y/N, breathe,” Sam laughed, placing a hand on your knee, “I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. To be completely honest, it was actually kind of nice. You really are very talented.”

Widened eyes fixed on the large hand on your knee, your heart began to race and you found yourself speechless. He noticed your reaction and quickly removed his hand, the cold contrast of its absence making your heart drop.

You looked sideways at him, noticing a slight change in his demeanor as if he was saddened by the lack of touch as well, “So you don’t think I was being totally weird?”

“Not at all,” Sam smiled warmly, “I was flattered, actually.”

A new wave of courage took over you, and before you knew it, you were turning to the side to face the handsome hunter, “so, you really did like it?”

“I really did like it,” Sam reached out instinctively and pushed a strand of (Y/H/C) hair behind your ear, the contact of his fingers with your cheek sending an electric shock down your spine.

Before you could realize what was happening, he leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips against yours. The moment he did, it was as if fireworks went off around you. Though taken aback for a moment, you soon melted into the kiss, hands running up his firm chest until you stopped to grab at his jacket to pull him down with you. Laying on the grass, you felt tickles from the green blades surrounding you but that only added to the intensity of Sam’s touch. The way he ran a hand down your side, stopping at your hip to pull you closer. The way his kiss turned more passionate and fervent, something you wouldn’t have expected from such a sweet soul but that was nonetheless an incredibly nice surprise.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you opened your eyes to a wondrous sight; Sam’s gorgeous features highlighted by an unusually starry sky above him, the trees surrounding you forming a canopy of sorts that reminded you of fairy tales. He smiled down at you, so close you could feel his warm breath on your skin, setting it ablaze despite the cold breeze that was beginning to pass through.

“We should probably get back inside,” Sam said, noticing your shivering body before you did.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. Sam leaned down to peck your lips once more before standing up and offering a hand to pull you up. You both walked back to the bunker, hands clasped together as you did. He slowed his strides to match your much shorter ones, causing you to giggle; a reaction that warmed Sam’s heart in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Stopping at the door, Sam turned to you and leaned down to kiss you once more before you broke the news of your newfound relationship to the rest of the bunker residents. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and smiled, ready to take the next steps to your new life by his side.

Pond Tags

@whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @frenchybell @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @idreamofhazel @wevegotworktodo @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @ageekchiclife @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @clueless-gold @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @emoryhemsworth @serenity-sam @cas-backwards-tie @sierra-grace1227 @firefly-in-darkness @emilyshurley @deanwanddamons ns @idreamofplaid

[viviswtings]

Two Years. (Pt. 2) (Not proof read)

So this is bad. Like, REALLY bad. U’m not even close to be okay with how this turned out. But I have to get out of my writer’s block one way or the other.

Hyunjin x f!reader.

Warnings: Badly written slow burn with a very non-satisfying ending. 

Words: 1608.

Looking at him always felt like the first time. His expressive face in a cute but exaggerated expression, his hands moving as he tried to explain himself to the phone. She remembered him with his dark locks, when they had gotten that awkward mullet length he always complained about. His face had gotten less round, his features way more defined, his hands had gotten bigger. When he had asked her to teach him, she was so embarrassed, he was so damn good looking. But she had never expected him to end up this handsome. If she had known she would’ve ran away. Her heart had never been ready for the roller coaster a friendship with him would be. How he hugged her from behind, or the way he grabbed her arm and acted all cute around her.

His English was slow, his grammar rather proper and his accent made her knees weak. He had gotten way better in a very short time. He was determined to be able to communicate with his fans no matter what. She found it very cute, given the fact that he always seemed to be mocking everyone. His tone sounded so sweet now, she knew he was being serious about whatever he was saying. It was a good thing that she was sitting. Otherwise she’d be on the floor right at that moment. That’s probably how the people at the other end of the phone also felt.

He tilted his head and looked at her, inquisitiveness written all over his pretty features. She assumed he was asking her if what he just said was alright, so she just nodded, trying to pay attention at what she was supposed to be doing. She heard him laugh and she felt her whole face burn, so she lowered her head to do whatever she was doing before. What was she doing again?

She didn’t remember, and, as soon as he stopped laughing and payed attention the video again, she was back at staring: noticing every little detail that had changed ever since they met.

His hair had grown so long, it was a nice shade of blonde after they had fixed the bright yellow that naturally followed pastel pink. His profile, with his delicate nose and plump pink lips that he didn’t stop chewing on, was one of the most beautiful sights in her mind. She was drawing him mindlessly, when she was supposed to be doing homework. She guessed she could just pass it as one of the many live portraits she had been assigned to do in her free time. She couldn’t resist it when he had the audacity to look so absurdly breath-taking.  

She was as far away from the phone’s view as possible, which meant that she was actually kind of facing him. She could see sweat drip from his hairline, the beads falling slowly until they got lost in his brow. He had taken his jacket off, throwing it out of frame over a chair, and rolled his sleeves up to his shoulder line. She didn’t really know when it happened, but he had bulked up again after getting rather skinny for a while. Maybe it was because Jeongin was exercising too.

His shoulders looked broader, defined, there were fine lines in his forearms from the shadows of the veins she doubted the camera could see like she was doing. As it could definitely not see how his track pants hugged his thighs. She shouldn’t be looking at him like that, it was creepy. But she could not help it. He caught her staring and said hi with his hand under the tripod. She jumped a little, realizing that he had caught her boldly staring, so her only option was to smile and wave back. Her heart was racing, calling her out for being such a moron.

If that had happened some months ago, she would most surely die of embarrassment. But they were sort of close now. She didn’t know how it happened. She was teaching him English after he asked her in the cutest way, and before she knew it, he was sprawled on her bed calling her name with diminutives or pet names, in that same tone he once had used, so she would take some “aesthetic pictures” of him. He was so full of shit for doing that to her poor heart. He was bound to end up killing her with that behaviour.

While she was lost in thought, in the memories of him that she cherished, he ended his live, turning off the phone and sliding his to get in front of her. He smiled, his smile gave her all kinds of feelings, as she had found soon enough. He had the ability to act all clingy and cutesy yet make it seem like he was in total control of the situation. While she tried to be put together and even then, everyone laughed at how messy she always ended up being. The guys she had grown to love took pride in calling her out for her “cuteness”. They were all just as full of shit as him.

That was a lie. He was the worst of them all.

His eyes, sharp as a knife, were looking at her like a puppy who was just finding out something, before he licked his lips and smiled again. Her heart was doing leaps and dancing the Macarena in her chest. She felt as if she could puke it at any second now. When he leaned back, out of her personal space, she released the breath she didn’t know was holding.

“You’re out of it today” Good point. He was right. But lately she was always out of it when he was around. It was getting painfully obvious how she felt about him, but it pained her too. So she couldn’t avoid it. “You okay?”

She nodded, shrugging at the same time. Trying to keep her cool, if she had any. “Just tired. University’s been trying to test my limits lately”. The answer seemed to suffice, for he just nodded and looked around him.

When had he gotten so handsome again? She had always found him cute; he had the face of an angel. His beauty was soft, warm even. So absolutely breath-taking, without it being too obvious. He didn’t stand out in a crowd- at least until he had dyed his hair and let it grow so long, he could put it up in a ponytail- but when you laid eyes on him, it was absolutely impossible to deny the beauty he held. Looking at him was easy, nearly hypnotising.

He ended up lying on the floor, his long limbs spread out like he was a starfish. She smiled softly, looking at the rising of his chest as he breathed. His t-shirt was sticking to his body, he always sweated so much. He needed tons and tons of setting powder from how oily his face always got whenever he did anything. But even sweaty as he was, he smelt so nice. She could tell apart his clothes without even really trying because his smell was so nice, yet particular.

“Maybe you should take a shower”. She kicked his feet with hers, and he kicked back softly, moving his foot until the sole of his shoe was against hers. “You stink”.

While he wailed, complaining about how mean she always was, she looked at their feet. He had really grown in the past year, hadn’t he. She could fit her shoed foot in his shoe without a problem. She never felt small in Korea, not compared to other girls at least, and definitely not if she compared herself to the other guys. They were tiny, making her feel sort of bad about everything regarding her size. But he was tall, his hands were the size of her face. He was prettier than her, but at least he made her feel kind of feminine… once in a while.

She wasn’t completely sure what had gotten over her, but she crawled until she was on top of him. Without looking him in the eye, as she knew she’d end up embarrassed and would back off, she plopped down on top of him, listening to his groan with a light-hearted laugh. So dramatic.

They both laughed for a moment, but it lasted mere seconds. Soon, the studio was silent. He was looking at the ceiling, while she looked at the wall. There was nothing to say, nothing to talk about. Silence was alright with both of them, it was way more comfortable than empty words anyway.

What would she say? She didn’t want him to push her away, to end up slipping between her fingers like she feared he one day would. He was a mystery to her; she never knew what was crossing his mind. She only knew that somethings he was alright with: hugs, cuddles, holding hands… all that he was up to. Not just with her, he was a very touchy person in general. Talking about how he felt? Not so much. He didn’t open up with words, relying on his eyes and face to say everything his mouth couldn’t. And she never dared pay enough attention, in case she found rejection deep withing them.

If only she knew that he had been looking at her ever since she started laughing with Felix in that makeup chair that day. That, while she didn’t even know his name, he had been always aware of her. But he was afraid. They both were.

Perhaps what they needed were another two years.

[nobody-knose--archive]

so guess who bought complete demos today on a whim

yeah i wasn’t expecting this one to be over as quickly as it was either. have your liveblog

-complete demos. i bought it today & already forgot the tracklist. listening to it on the mp3 player i got for hmcrmshcidshdamsth because why not. makes pausing/typing easier that's why

-who the heck just coughed

-good lord the mixing is. and boy that's steve drumming isn't it. wow

-i mean we've got the stereo panning just like ever but this is incredibly rough. they are true babies aren't they

-oh those flutes are amazing what the hell. can people stop yelling in my individual ears

-and there's the rough megaphone. it's so incredibly clear that these aren't studio recordings but like. still tally hall!

-i think i'm finding many of these a little too funny but gotdam you're pitchbending your own voice do you really expect that to not sound so goofy at such a high pitch

-oh we're not slowing down at all, this is the same tempo as before for sure

-the flipping around audio channels is very not good at all when it comes to disguising the cuts between takes

-a sculptor you say? (is that one in the later versions? i don't remember it at all)

-nothing but rob's voices in the background and maybe 1 or two from red. no ross bits whatsoever. that's wild

-quick move into the greener intro and even quicker movement into greener itself

-well those are extra harmonies. interesting that they removed them for later versions because they're not bad, maybe a little out of place though

-honestly the biggest difference in steve vs ross drumming seems to be more a difference in the quality of the drums themselves. or the recording software but that applies to everything in this album

-it's painfully obvious that everything was recorded in really different circumstances & not mixed professionally and yep. complete demos alright. not inaccurately named in the slightest

-reminds me of the beta versions of g&e songs we heard live before they appeared on the album, makes me wonder if we could've gotten an admittedly complete demos for g&e somehow

-anyway these little different synths-

-hello there rob. alternate bridge. i have remembered this is a thing. something about tissues? a shoulder to cry on? cool

-yeah the little different synths do capture my attention from time to time

-and a basic piano for the outro? huh. sure gives it a different tone alright

-hm? who's that right at the end there- ooh! wtth time! and this still has steve in it doesn't it?

-generally more enthusiasm when it comes to that T, wonder what lost him attention in later years

-boy is that beatboxing weirdly mixed.

-lawn

-well this chorus is actually rather snazzy. the vocals seem better mixed than anything else i've heard in this album

-"who's to blame?" that's like the 4th time now i've heard someone's random voice that i can't recognize. ...it couldn't be steve, could it? i am now aware i have absolutely no clue what his voice sounds like but that seems like it could fit. hm

-zubin sounds really unenthusiastic here. just faintly unenthusiastic all over the place. still sounds more like "badiggle" than anything else

-oh shit they're falling down a well

-red's bit is hella unchanged other than the direct invasion of my individual ears & extra megaphone useage (i really wish the megaphone became more of a tally icon than it did but that's neither here nor there)

-it's rather more barebones though. less andrew keys in general. the calliope-reminiscent synth he uses is different i suppose.

-they did more stuff with funny crowd voices i think i've noticed. playing around with falsetto, as a college band dude might do

-ok yeah steve is a worse drummer. don't ask me what made me change my mind but i did

-wow a crowd that can consistently clap on the 1-2-3-4? how utterly unrealistic

-no wonky wild & weird intro to taken for a ride because i don't think it's on this album. understandable, i can't imagine what sort of wild hell the vocoder would be if it was attempted this early in its lifespan

-1st 2 piano chords of just apathy has me thinking of i know your name (deporitaz ver.) which is certainly as good a start to a song as any

-extended piano intro has me thinking of the ending of mold en mono but nope here's rob's voice to completely knock that impression out of the water

-ohoho? rob cantor swearing momence? i hadn't realized there'd be this many lyric changes

-interestingly enough this track doesn't seem horrendously mixed so far- nevermind that guitar/piano together is way too loud

-the guitar itself does have a pretty cool unique sound. obviously they hadn't had any access to string instruments at this point so given that those're the main thing separating this song from your average sade rock ballad there aren't a whole lot of notable differences here other than said guitar

-very different tone to this lil bridge. faintly reminiscent of weezer but it's not like i know anything about weezer

-sounds like the same synth from wtth being used in the bg there. what, did they have just that limited a selection so as to need repetition that frequently, or did they really like how it sounds? hard to tell with 200 (uhhhh) 4 college band dudes

-and right into two wuv. yes i had heard there's no haiku in this one but i forget what else will be missing. not sure if anything else will other than hidden in the sand. they would have ruler of everything, right? and a track that appears here but not any other albums? something like that i think

-more of that piano in the bg and more of mildly unenthusiastic zubin singing. different melody for said singing but it's not much of a secret that these guys were more untrained vocalists at this time

- .subsides?

-this chorus sounds significantly more laid-back than the later version

-the extra piano part sure moves this piece way further away from "rock love song" & way closer to "andrew horowitz song", especially that lil flourish where a bee buzzing might otherwise be

-ooh! andrew! he speaks! so does zubin! this song's two olsen boys coming in for a weird bridge bit! hell yeah oh this is adorable

-"because there's 2 of them :}"

-hm. are they actually just removing various parts because they don't have the technological capabilities to do a straight fadeout here? got dam

-i suppose letting zubin do a final solo-ish cadence works too

-uh- say it ain't so‽ w. no this is stationary love, the song that appeared here & nowhere else. cool, cool. strange but cool i guess

-i guess that can explain the multitude of weezer comparisons made for these lads. it's certainly there. honestly andrew was the only thing keeping them from being true weezer successors

-pure acoustic guitar thus far. this is my first time hearing this song of course & it seems like a pretty typical rob "homophonic heterophobic" cantor song

-nothing but acoustic guitar. nothing but rob vocals. nothing but alloromanticism. guess what! it's not my cup of tea! however i can't help but think if this song was worked on more, fixed up a la either mmmm release, with some more andrew/red touches, i could enjoy it some more

-not even any drumming. the simplicity could easily explain why it wasn't played live very often at all

-so the next thing i expect is some very funky & very weird spring and a storm which should highlight steve's (worse) drumming more than anything else i'm sure

-nevermind banana man's just getting slapped directly in here out of order compared to the later mmmm releases. this version i have indeed heard before because it's the version used in the music video

-therefore i have very little to say about it i haven't said on any of the other banana men. or other tracks on this album. the intrusions of vocal harmonies seem jarring because they're not mixed professionally, an effect that's only enhanced by the stereo panning & intense reverb

-this song really didn't change all that much over its lifespan, did it? vocal flairs were redone, but relatively few harmonies were added/removed, i don't think things like the bridge(s) were modified severely. not as noticeably as any of the other songs, at the very least

-i'm pretty sure i can hear andrew's voice in there but beyond that this is severely unsettling

-back to the chorus wahoo. relievingly  familiar territory

-get out of my left ear hawaiian guitar- wait a minute are my earbuds on wrong

-no i'm good

-oh holy shit i forgot this had to be somewhere didn't it‽ i know it's just the same! ok ok

-i've heard this one but only because i had no idea it was from complete demos, it's like rather polished too so i had never considered it would be on an unpolished album like this. i also had no idea that was goddam steve drumming in there too hot damn

-and this is the only recording of it‽ that's wild i always thought it was redone at some point & just kinda. manifested in one of the vague ways miscellaneous high quality tally hall songs do

-it's another romance one but the guitar arpeggios and extra layers give it a pass in my book. man i should watch the music video for it shouldn't i

-i still think it's utterly wild how tally hall played this at an actual high school's homecoming once. wouldn't that just blow your mind

-there's not a major difference between how it's performed here & what i've heard of it in from the occasional live performance, which is making me realize i should watch more live performances of this song

-angstier prequel to hidden in the sand

-or sidequel maybe. depends really. we can tell whatever stories we like

-did my hidden in the sand sotry come out of the queue yet? i feel like i queued it a while ago but also like y'all would've said something if you'd seen it

-bit slow paced innit. much like everything else in this album, it would have gained much from a professional studio treatment, but its mixing & general quality is still surely the best out of everything i've heard so far

-working your falsetto there aren't you my dude? ooh boy

-ruler of everything.... so no spring & a storm? >{

-yeah. ok. weird glockenspiel. almost sounds like a music box

-no vocoding either! i just realized that's a thing here! curious. and... those are some heavily wonky sfx in the background

-who's singing those aaaaas anyway? it's not a chorus which i thought could surely be handled and there's really minimal reverb too; strange considering not only is reverb a jh trademark but easily doable here

-the piano synth used is mostly identical to the 05 mmmm- oh holy shit there's different lyrics & they're being beamed directly into my skull

-even more nonsensical & it's because you can hear them hella easily too. that backwards segment did not need to go on as long as it did. also

-so no zubin vocals? >{

-slapping 5 billion vocal effects on doesn't make up for a lack of the best singer in this damn band

-especially because he sounds reminiscent of goddam fred. being fred before fred was even a thing. oh how accursed

-quiet down your guitars when you're singing shouting through a megaphone if you please

-and there's the earstrain-ass reverb + vocoding on the flibbity jibber jabber reprise. i feared as much would happen. doesn't sound horrible i just need to turn down the volume on my mp3 player

-honestly thing whole thing isn't bad at all in the sense that it's mostly just strongly different from the later versions & lacks zubin

-lease stop yelling though my dude schwiggling your voice like that isn't always a good thing at high volumes

-is that the end? are we.... at the end? i heard that's the name of some song from like sketches or something

-no. how silly of me to assume as much. anyway my dude needs to fix up his ukulele this one sounds like shit

-no vocal effects makes me realize how few times we got this one live-

-now what would you call a wonky little transition like that? puts a smile on my face, even if it does take me by surprise at the same time

-but at least one of the times this was done live featured casey shea

-now for the love of god i already hate the ending of something glowing (view-monster) for its weird-ass asmr finale don't reverse someone's cough & twiddle your ukulele strings directly into my right ear to end an otherwise really nice version of hidden in the sand if you please. oh mama mia. good night

[surelybystarlight]

Season 4 Letters

Late 12th month, 100 AG Dear Fire Lord Zuko,

   Rebuilding the Southern water tribe is going along better than expected. So much had already changed by the time we got here. The benders from the north have made leaps and bounds in bending strong buildings. With the men finally back from the war we hope to have many newborns come end of next Spring and are building a hospital in expectation.    I’m writing to inform you that we will be proposing a formal medical exchange program at the First World Summit in 2 months, at the 6 month mark since the end of the war, in hopes of expanding our knowledge of healing by combining it with the herbal knowledge of the earth kingdom and the surgical knowledge of the fire nation. I am asking for your support of this program. An exchange of professional knowledge will not only be a sign of good faith and respect of other cultures on the fire nation’s part. It will also act as a symbol of the new age we are trying to build, one of mutual healing and support.

   I know it’s only been 3 months since we last all saw each other in Ba Sing Se, but I miss you and Toph. Suki and Sokka are doing well, with the help of our father, Sokka’s established a council of tribe members over seen by the chief to make decisions. Him and Suki are leaving for Kyoshi Island in a few days, Suki has new recruits to train and Sokka is traveling as “Son of the Chief” to formalize diplomatic ties with Kyoshi Island and Omashu. I think he’s just trying to avoid the days of endless sun coming up. I don’t know how they are going to make it work, but I hope they do. Aang's doing great, trying to be the avatar and mediate every conflict he comes across every chance he gets.    Tell me, how are you doing, How’s Mai? How’s Uncle? Has he driven you mad with tea and proverbs yet? Hows Toph? I know things are still rough with her parents. Uncles idea of taking her on as a pledge (word!!) was brilliant. Toph supposedly getting a courtly education in the fire nation pleases her parents, and in exchange she doesn’t have to go back to being sheltered.

       Wishing you the best,        Master Katara Daughter of the Chief

(p.s. Still feels weird calling you that but I’ll get used to it.)

Mid 1st month, 101 AG Dear Master Katara Daughter of the Chief,

   I can assure you that you will have the fire nation’s support behind your proposal, I agree an exchange of knowledge and skills will be beneficial for everyone. Water bender healers will be in high demand here once our doctors learn of what you can do. Will you be joining in the exchange? There would be a prime apprenticeship in Caldera hospital and a place for you in the fire palace waiting for you.

   Things are ok, it’s stressful being firelord. It’s hard to not just yell at everyone, but I have to set a better example than my father. I'm so glad uncle decided to stay as my adviser rather then retire to his tea shop just yet. At this point I’ll take any advice I can get, proverb or not. Toph’s doing great, you know how she is, she doesn’t talk about the painful stuff. She’s been very useful in vetting the staff and nobles for Ozai supporters. She’s kind of become my unofficial bodyguard. She’s even complained that she wished someone would make an attempt on my life just to spice things up. If I didn’t know her better I’d be scared.    Mai left on a sabbatical a little while ago, said she needed to find out what makes her happy, not just what she doesn’t hate. I know we weren't going to find happiness with each other. Not after everything we’ve both seen. Last time I was truly happy and at peace was at the summer palace with the whole Gaang. I hope she finds happiness wherever it may be.

       Hoping you’ve found your happiness,        Firelord Zuko

(p.s. It still feels weird being called that)

Early 2nd month, 101 AG Dear Zuko,

   Why didn’t you tell me Mai left sooner? I know you never really forgave yourself for leaving her at the Boiling Rock, but you deserve to be happy too. You deserve someone who loves you and you love in return. I miss the summer palace too, even though we were preparing for a war, I haven't felt so at peace since. I miss our night time sparring matches, letting off steam. And the day to day routine of our little family. There were moments I could have lived in forever.    I mean, I am proud of the work Im doing, rebuilding my tribe is important to me. And being in a position to effect change on the world, to usher in this age of peace is so empowering. Aang wants to start and airbender acolyte program after the World Summit, which is just as important to him. He wants me to join him once the healer exchange program is off the ground. Wants me to become an acolyte and help him “rebuild” the air nomad culture. Maybe I’ll find peace in the air nomad philosophy. I know that it didn’t exactly always work for me in the past, but maybe I’ll understand it better if I study it. I want to be able to be happy at the air temples. The days of endless sun are here, I’m sure I’ll find the idea of Air nomad philosophy more agreeable once I’ve seen the moon in the night sky again. For now, Aang's Air nomad diplomacy is not appropriate for handling midnight sun madness.    I know I won’t get your response before I leave for the World Summit, so I’ll see you then.

       Hoping you find your happiness too,        Your friend, Katara

Late 2nd Month, 101 AG Dear Katara,

   I know you wont get this before the World Summit, but I wanted to write you anyway. I am proud of my work, I hope I’ll find fulfillment in bettering the lives of my people. Love is not a given for Firelords, when Mai left my court started looking for suitable candidates for Fire Lady. Their concern is more with stability and producing an heir than ensuring I'm in love. Love was just never in the cards for me, I was never the hero of our story destined to get my girl. You’re lucky to have a chance at happiness with Aang. Even if, as we are both painfully aware, Air nomad philosophy isn’t always applicable, as long as you’re happy with him.    And if for some reason you aren't, there will always be a place for you in my country and home.

       Alway your friend,        Zuko

Early 4th Month, 101 AG Dearest Zuko, Dear Fire Lord Zuko, Zuko,

   The World Summit was very eventful and beneficial for all.    I know I said some things after the celebration ball. That certain things happened, but I want to assure you that I will be joining Aang at the Air temples, it’s where I am meant to be. I want to be happy with Aang.

       Katara

Late 4th Month, 101 AG Dearest Katara,

   I understand, like you said, We aren’t the ones who get our happily ever afters. Just promise me you wont give up your own happiness for the sake of his. I’m not saying you have to come to the Fire nation if you don’t find peace as an Acolyte, just remember you aren’t a prize. Your happiness matters too.

       Always your friend,        Zuko

Late 6th Month, 101 AG Dearest Katara,

   I heard from Ty Lee that you’ve returned to the Southern Tribe to help run the healer exchange program and train new healers. I hope you find your happiness there. I know it couldn’t have been easy to leave the Air Acolytes, but I am proud of you. One of us deserves to find happiness

       Hoping you find your happiness,        your friend, Zuko

Mid 7th Month, 101 AG Dear Zuko,

   Due to the reluctance of water tribe healers, I have decided to join the healer exchange program and set an example by taking a position in the Fire nation. I will be returning with you to the Fire Nation after the 1 year of Peace Celebration to begin my apprenticeship.    I’ve heard you’ve yet to accept or even entertain any of the potential Fire Ladies, I know you said love isn’t in the cards for you, that we aren’t the heros, but you deserve to be happy too. Thank you for your support, I haven't found my happiness yet, but I hope I will soon.

       Yours Always,        Katara

Early 8th Month, 101 AG Dearest Katara,

   I was genuinely happy to read that you’ll be coming back to the Fire Nation with me. Like I promised months ago, there will always be a place for you in my home. I hope you can find your happiness in the Fire Nation. I look forward to seeing you again at the Peace Celebration.

       Yours Always,        Zuko

Early 9th Month, 101 AG Dear Master Pakku

   You would be wise to never doubt the insight of a guardian in the ways of their charges's heart. For no one knows said heart better than the one who watched it form. I won the pot, time to pay up old man

       Better luck next time,        General Iroh

Chapter notes

Zuko and Katara got really drunk during the World Summit ball and ended up sneaking off together to have a heart to heart. They lamented both feeling like they were supporting character. Katara said she felt like she was just supposed to be apart of Aang’s happily ever after regardless of if it was her happily ever after. They end up admitting to each other that their happiest moments were with each other and share a drunken passionate kiss. 

Afterwards Katara tries to bite the bullet and make herself happy with Aang at the air temple, but she doesn’t last very long because it really isn’t where she’s happy. She ends up leaving Aang, giving him a speech about needing her own happily ever after. 

Zuko and Katara come together for discrete yet passionate love making at the Peace Celebration. They decide to keep their relationship a secret for the time being both to protect Aang's feelings and to avoid court gossip. However, Uncle Iroh figures it out right away, he had a bet with master Pakku since the end of the war when Zuko took the bolt of lightning that the two would end up together.

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 3

Chapter links: 1, 2 

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst

Words: 1,856

Impromptu conversations with Hoyt were rarely pleasant. There seemed to be a new gripe whenever Arthur learned his boss wanted to speak with him. He’d been late to a party because the train had broken down. The balloon animals he was learning to make deflated too quickly. His laughter popped up at the wrong times.

Today’s meeting had been no different. As soon as he walked into Hoyt’s cramped office, he knew he’d be scolded. He understood Kenny’s Music was upset that he’d disappeared. What he hadn’t expected was Hoyt’s complete dismissal of his side of the story. Yes, it was a stupid decision to go after the kids who were giving him shit. The bruises covering him were enough to prove that. But why would he go out of his way to steal a sign?

Arthur had been careful to smile painfully the entire time, the way Penny had taught him. With all the effort it took to maintain his composure, he’d barely heard Hoyt threaten to take the cost of the broken placard out of his pay. He felt a pang in his gut. Less money would mean missed meals. At least he could handle that better than his mother, since he rarely ate anyway.

Hoyt told him his co-workers were uncomfortable around him. That they thought he was weird. That wasn’t news to Arthur - though he didn’t always get their intentions, he wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t missed the lack of inclusion in the card games the others played on their downtime, or how quiet they were around him.

And he made everyone uncomfortable. Except maybe Gary, the little person he worked with. Gary was the only acquaintance who appeared to give a shit about him, even a little. And he went out of his way to check-in with Arthur when a day had been particularly trying. Arthur would have to remember to try to return that favor.

Usually, his anger didn’t eclipse his general malaise. When it did, he tried to push it down like he had learned. He couldn’t do that today. After the meeting with Hoyt, he’d gone into the back alley and punted the garbage until he fell.

It had been too much. He put more than forty hours a week into being a clown. He loved his job and was good at it. There was a reason he was on the rotation list for the children’s hospital. Just once, it would be nice to hear he had done well instead of being berated.

He tried to remind himself he was lucky to have a steady income.

Now Arthur was in the empty locker room at HaHa’s, cleaning crud off his shoes from the garbage bags he’d broken open. His knee was sore from the kicking. When he got home, he’d have to put ice on it. He took in a long breath, sitting on the bench in front of the row of blue lockers. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to simply drift away.

“You okay?”

Arthur hadn’t heard Randall approach. He slumped a little, expecting another smart remark from the giant know-it-all.

Randall continued. “I heard about the beat-down you took. Fucking savages.”

The aggravation in his voice wasn’t what Arthur had expected. Arthur shook his head. “It was just a bunch of kids. I should have left it alone.”

“No, they’ll take everything from you if you do that. All that crazy shit out there? They’re animals,” Randall stated.

Arthur stood and grabbed his jacket from his locker, not wanting to continue. He’d been on his feet all day, which hadn’t helped his healing back. All he wanted was to go home and try to relax.

Randall shoved a paper bag at him, taking him aback. “Here.”

Arthur glanced at it. “What is it?”

“Take it.”

Half expecting a trick, Arthur wiped his nose, took the bag and gingerly opened it. The light from overhead reflected off a .38 snub-nosed handgun and six bullets. Giggling nervously, he closed the bag and tried to hand it back. He looked around, making sure no one else had entered the room. “Randall,” he whispered. “I’m not supposed to have a gun.”

Randall smiled at him. “Don’t sweat it, Art. No one has to know. And you can pay me back some other time. You know you’re my boy.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that. Had all the self-doubt he’d felt moments ago been wrong? Randall giving him a gift a gun to protect himself - did this mean he was finally “one of the guys?” It made him nervous. And a little proud. He shoved the paper bag in his pocket and shook his head lightly, laughing. “I’ve - I’ve got to go. My mother’s waiting.”

~~~~~

Arthur's evening went similarly to every other. He made dinner for Penny and took a quick shower, then ran a bath for his mother. After testing the temperature with the back of his hand, he went into the living room with a towel. "It's time for your bath, mom." Penny didn't have much of a reaction, a soft smile and a nod. He draped the towel over his shoulder and, putting an arm around her back, the other under her armpit, gently lifted her out of the easy chair. She shuffled along as he guided her to the bathroom.

Penny dropped her robe to the floor, seemingly half paying attention to what she was doing. He picked it up, folded it, and placed it on the closed toilet lid. Once he had helped her out of the rest of her clothing, he threw it in the hamper. He took her hand as she stepped into the tub. "Be careful. Don't slip," he said, helping her get into the water. When she was situated, he dragged a stool over, sat, then grabbed a washcloth and soap to scrub her back.

Arthur was used to taking care of Penny, but this level of helplessness still felt new. He'd had to start helping her bathe about six months ago, when she'd had a fall getting out of the tub. The panic he'd felt when he'd found her on the floor still weighed heavily in his stomach when he thought about it. He'd been grateful she hadn't broken anything. And when she’d first said, "Happy, I need your help in the bathroom," he'd been glad to assist her. Truthfully, it felt good to be needed.

She stared vacantly at the wall as he washed her arms. "I wonder why there was no mail today."

"That means no bills, mom." He handed her the washcloth and soap. "Wash your chest and down below." Turning away from her, he listened to the water splash behind him. He hummed gently with the radio as he waited for her to finish.

She continued after the soft sloshing stopped. "Maybe the mailman is stealing my letters."

He swiveled back around and grabbed the nearby plastic cup. Carefully, he tipped her head back and started washing her hair. 

Penny closed her eyes. "Maybe we'll hear from him soon."

He couldn't bite his tongue any longer. "Mom, why are these letters so important to you? What do you think he's gonna do?"

"He's gonna help us," she pronounced.

Bewildered, he shook his head. "You worked for him, what? Thirty years ago?" A sigh escaped him. "Why would he help us?"

She turned and looked him straight in the face, answering without hesitation. "Because Thomas Wayne is a good man. If he knew how we were living... If he could see this place, it would make him sick." She lowered her head. "I can't explain it to you any better than that."

Arthur pursed his lips. It wasn't worth the argument; he wouldn't win it anyway. He closed his eyes. He did his best to provide, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Maybe if she hadn’t had a son who was such a mess, she’d be in a better position. He started thinking about the sign he had to pay for, hoping he could pick up an extra gig to make up the difference.  "I don't want you worrying about money, mom," he said soothingly. "Or me." A flicker of excitement went through him at what he was going to say next. "Everyone's been telling me my stand-up's ready for the big clubs."

Blinking at him, she said, "But, Happy, what makes you think you can do that?"

"What do you mean?"

Penny looked at him in consternation. "Don't you have to be funny to be a comedian?"

~~~~~

The journal lay open on the coffee table in front of Arthur. Sitting on the old, scratchy sofa in his blue pants, smoking cigarette after cigarette down to the filter, he thought about what he should write. It felt like homework tonight. The jokes weren't coming.

Usually he could ignore Penny's remarks. Tonight's comment from her had wounded him, though. She didn't think he could pursue his purpose of spreading joy and laughter? A purpose she'd told him he had all his life? He knew his timing was off, that he didn't get punchlines in the same way others did. He was acutely aware of that he had misunderstandings he couldn’t seem to fix. But he wouldn't stop practicing and trying to improve. He'd make her proud of him one day. He'd show her.

He wasn't going to journal about the bullet hole he'd accidentally fired into the wall, which he was going to have to figure out how to patch. If Counselor Kane caught wind of it, he'd be in serious trouble. The gun had been heavier than he'd imagined. His hands had trembled when he held it. It felt forbidden. And dangerous.

Why hadn't Randall told him it was loaded? He could have killed himself. Maybe that's what Randall wanted.

The new pack of pens caught his eye, and his thoughts went to the woman at the store. When she'd first spoken to him, he'd been preparing himself for a snide comment. One never came. She'd been unexpectedly kind and polite.

Her stare had been disconcerting until she apologized for it. A short chuckle escaped him as he remembered her blush. Women never did that around him. Even though he wasn't like the men in check-out stand magazines or movies, he wondered if she'd found him attractive. She was so pretty, too pretty for him.

The bravery he'd managed to wrangle to open the door for her surprised him. He wanted to keep it. Standing behind her in line, he thought he'd been able to catch a whiff of the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. Or maybe he’d dreamed it. Either way, he associated it with her. He wished he had worn cologne - she might have liked it.

He picked up a pen and started writing in his messy scrawl, a soft smile on his face. "I met a nice woman at the store yesterday. I don't know why she was nice to me but I'm glad she was. If I meet her again I need to say hi."

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck @stephieraptorr​

[balmasedas]

THE TRUTH.

(SHAWN MENDES).

WARNINGS: ANGST, SWEARING.

WORD COUNT: 2,5K.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Haven't written for a while so it may be shitty. This is my first imagine here, so I hope you enjoy it! Please make me know if you do so, maybe I'll make a part 2. :')

○○○

Thank god for makeup and alcohol. People like you needed it. Well, people in your situation, you deduced, cause it wasn't part of your nature to get extremely drunk. A radical change of plans, a sudden turn in the oceanic currents —you were sure many could relate.

But, then again, how many were secretly dating a superstar? And how many had to bear their lovers being publicly, and falsely, in another relationship? A better question was: How many of them could get through it? You had done it for over almost a year now. Six months of being silent —no, muted. You were a shadow, a secret.

You had done everything you could. When Shawn had asked if it was ok, you had nodded. You knew that success was part of his dream, and if a little white lie could contribute to that, then... whatever, right? After all you hadn't gone public and it was supposed to be only for a while. Two months top.

But two months turned into three. Your pleasent smiles turned into frowns. Silence turned into screams and discussions with him that drained you completely of energy. "I'm your girlfriend.", "I'm your boyfriend and you should support me.", and yada, yada, yada.

Then Shawn wasn't living with you anymore. He was on tour and you would've been fine with it if you hadn't went through tons of pictures of him passionately kissing Camila, walking hand-to-hand literally everywhere. And you started to wonder if they were even pretending anymore.

Apparently not.

Your first therapy was to dance to music in the apartment that you shared and pretend to not worry about it, but his scent was everywhere. Memories were too hunting, thoughts were too loud and your cries were unstoppable.

A club was the second obvious choice, you decided that night.

The first half of it you were with your friends, and yet you still felt utterly lonely.

The second part, you drank it all, and you felt carelessly free. Everyone was beautiful, everyone was your friend. The lights were pretty, the music was great and you were fucking ecstatic. No Shawn Mendes.

"Two Marg–marga shit ass." you laughed at your own word game. The bartender knew you should call it a night but who was he to deny you more poison? You recieved the drink and struggled to catch the straw with your tongue.

"Here." a hand appeared from your left and helped you take the straw with your mouth. You drank a bit and looked who was the misterious assistent: A guy. He looked older than you, thought the lights and your drunkness forbid you of guessing his age with more precision. You could, though, see his mocking and handsome smile. "You're a mess."

You smirked. "I'm single." Yes, shamelessly flirt, go fuck him and make Shawn pay.

"You are?" Unfortunately, you weren't that drunk. And you went from happy drunk to sad drunk.

"No. I'm not–tsk." you pouted. "I have a boyfriend." your forehead wrinkled "I think."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a celebrity and that shit. Shawn Mendezzz? You know him?" The name rang a bell, apparently. More than it, because the man's posture completely shifted.

"Yeah." he nodded. "And don't get me wrong, you're beautiful, but you aren't his girlfriend. Unlless you're Camila Cabello." that sparked anger inside of you.

"Of courrrrrse not, shtupid!" you poked his chest. Then you proceeded to clumsily reach inside your dress, between your breasts, and took out your phone. The device read your fingerprint and you shoved it in his face. "Look!" you weren't anymore aware of what you were really doing. You just smiled proudly at the photo of you and Shawn kissing in front of a beach sunset. It was your favorite picture. One of the last ones you had taken months ago, when both of you were still happy. "Yeah, Carmela Cabitch is only a– a promo! She's fake and shit!" you went to your inbox and looked for Shawn's chat. "Here! lmao! See?" You showed him his messages, where you talked of the PR stunt, of how he promised it would all be over soon. You were too busy laughing hysterically to notice this guy taking his phone out. "I'm a fucking no one so!" you shrugged, happily. As if you had no choice. He laughed with you and asked for a round of something, that you didn't hear, but when the glass of alcohol was set in front of you, you welcomed it.

He raised his cup towards you, "Cheers for... the truth. May everyone hear it soon."

You giggled and cheered with him. "Whatever dude." you emptied your glass. And you kept drinking and drinking. The man was with you for the rest of the night. He was fun, actually. You had fun.

So much fun that you let him keep your phone until you said goodbye.

○○○

There was a buzz. An annoying and incesant buzz. You had heard it too many times for not being able to recognize it as your own phone but you were too tired to do something about it. Your face was buried in the pillow, you were spread like a starfish on the bed with one leg hanging over the side. Too comfy to move.

You groaned when you had to stretch your arm and reject the person who was calling you non-stop. You thought you had found peace for your headache finally, but the phone started vibrating again. And you were fucking done. Your reached for it and squinted your eyes for the sudden light in your eyes. You thought your sleepy state had fooled you at first and made you see things that weren't there but a few blinks confirmed what was right in front you.

Over 5K twitter notifications.

Over 1K on Instagram.

Hundreds of messages.

Dozens of missed calls from Shawn, your best friend, your mom.

You quickly sat up. You brushed the hair out of your face. You suddenly felt sick and it wasn't because of the hangover. You had a bad feeling cause that didn't happen unless something was really, really wrong.

You went to your messages. Your mom was asking if you were okay, she was worried, "it's not your fault" she stated. Your bestfriend had texted "hmu as soon as you read this.". She had also called you a few times. Then your dad and last, but not least, Shawn. You were extremely anxious. His calls and messages were the most, and he was the one you'd rejected a few minutes ago. If something was wrong, it had too do with him:

"Y/N."

"Y/N pick up."

"R u ok?"

"How could you do this?"

"You fucked up. You fucked us all up."

"Jesus Christ, pick up!"

"What the fuck?" You murmured. Your hand went from your stomach to your mouth. You opened twitter, cause everytime something happened it was there first. 'Shawn Mendes' was trending, 'Camila' too, your fucking name was trending third and in 5th place was the word 'PR'.

You immediatly knew what it was, but how?

You started reading the tweets involving your boyfriend.

"I knew Shawmila was PR!!!1 I called it first but lol, how could Shawn's gf sell him like that. Yikes"

"Y/N was clearly jealous but how can you fucking expose your boyfriend?????? like????? You agreed to it, didn't you?"

"I know it was fake, but Shawn was better with Camila than a snake like Y/N. #Facts"

And the tweets got worst and worst, but not a million of them could prepare you to see your pictures all over twitter. Your photos kissing Shawn, him with your family. The screenshots of your texts. His and your intimacy violated by the world. The insults did nothing in comparision of the pain you felt then.

In the middle of desperation, you started wondering what did you do wrong, if anything could compromise your privacy the night before and suddenly everything came back: The man. The man stole your shit straight from your phone. You were so stupid, so drunk you didn't noticed.

Your hand went from your core to your face. You sprinted to the bathroom and emptied everything from your stomach on the toilet.

You were there for a few minutes, lying on the floor, crying, to weak to get up. Your phone started buzzing again, and you were ready to ignore it again when you remembered: "Shawn." you got up so fast you almost tripped. You put on a hoodie and pants over your pijama, went to the living room and dialed Shawn's number. You had to talk to him. You needed to explain yourself desperately.

"Please, pick up, pick up, pick up." you mumbled while searching your shoes. Suddenly, a ringing echoed in your apartment. And not any ringing, Shawn's. It was Shawn's tone for your calls.

You turned your head and there he was: Coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water. You would've jumped to his arms, it would've been normal if it wasn't for his face. You've never seen like that. You wish you never did.

"Shawn I–" you started but he stopped you midsentence.

"Had to take a flight all the way from Japan just to be here." he offered you the water and you drank it, with the pill that luckily would help with the headache. He observed you in silence. You felt little under his eyes, painfully ashamed of what was happening. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing again and sobbing with the glass still in your mouth. "Don't, please. You'll choke."

He gently took the glass away from you and you covered your face.

"I'm so sorry. I–I–"

"You what? Y/N" any hopes of discussing with calmness dissapeared when he raised his voice. You couldn't hold in your sadness and he couldn't hide hise anger. "Do you know what this means?! For all of us?!" you crossed your arms over your stomach.

"I saw it."

"You saw it? They're destroying you. Look." Shawn turned the TV on and did a quick zapping over most of the news channel. Half of them focused on Shawn and Camila's stunt, half of them focused on you. You tensed your jaw and looked at an empty point on the floor. Shawn said something else, but you couldn't focuse on his words as you recalled what started it all.

"How much more can I be destroyed?" you whispered. Shawn turned the TV off and looked at you, somewhere between concerned and taken aback.

"What?"

"Yeah, you heard well. What's a bit more of pain? I mean, everybody is hating me but at least they know who I am, right?" Shawn scrubbed his face and you could practically see the words inside his mind: Not again. But weren't you telling the truth? You wouldn't be in that situation if it wasn't for the contract extending that long. If Shawn had the decency to not push you to a side, you wouldn't have gotten drunk and the secret wouldn't be out.

"We already went through this!"

"No we didn't!" you screamed. Shawn stared at you speechless "We didn't talk it out! You just avoided it, and avoided it until I wasn't part of the picture anymore." At this point your face was drenched in tears. The sobs were painful but, at the same time, you felt free. You had contain your anguish for too long.

"You know I had no choice!"

"Yes you did!" you poked his chest with anger "You had the choice of calling me, of reaching out to me! You were travelling the world with Camila and I suddenly didn't existed. The contract said you had to pretend to be with her, not stop loving me."

"I never stopped loving you, what the hell are you talking about? I kept in touch with you."

You laughed. For the first time you laughed, but it wasn't filled with joy. You were frustrated, furious. You advanced a few steps and stood before him, chest to chest.

"You bet?" you asked low "Pick up your phone, Shawn." no movement. "Pick up you god damn phone. You'll find my fucking texts, my fucking calls and only fucking me caring for us."

"I forgot to call you a few times. That. Was. It."

"That was it." you repeat, nodding with your head, as you finally understand. "Then this is it."

Shawn blinked a few times.

"What?" he mumbled. Your eyes got teary, his too. You don't have to watch it anymore as you strode to your bedroom.

You grabbed a suitcase from your closet and started throwing some clothes in it. Shawn called your name a few times and stopped at that door.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You knew his tones enough to guess that he's scared.

"Going to my mom's. We're done." you laughed and corrected yourself "I'm done."

"What? No, no, no. This isn't over. If anything I should be the one quitting, you fucked this all by selling me." you turned abruptly, but your voice wasn't strong or determined. If it was even possible, something else shattered inside of you. You knew he was affected by happened, but never did you imagined that he'd believe what they were saying.

"You really think I am capable of hurting you on purpose?" you choked out a sob. Tears started falling again.

What he didn't said was enough. You slowly nodded.

"Y/N" he murmured, when you grabbed the suitcase and passed beside him. You walked to the door and his voice, again, this time did stop you. "Y/N, stay. Let's talk. Please."

You vaguely dried the tears on your face with your hand and turned around. It took all of your strength to look at him.and talk: "I was drunk. Was it my fault? Maybe. I don't know. Maybe I should've not drown myself in alcohol. But there were two people in this relationship. I tried to talk to you and you just didn't listen. You just didn't—" Shawn was crying now. His jaw was locked, his hands tugging tightly his hair. You wished you could erase that image from your head.

"Please, Y/N. Shit! I'm so sorry. We can work this out. I believe you, baby, but don't go. I beg."

You smiled with a certain nostalgia. Your memories were holding you in, hope had it's role too. But was there really hope for you both? If he really loved you, you both wouldn't be standing there. If he really loved you, he would've taken five minutes of his day to talk to you. Your heart was aching, and you've had enough. It was the fact that he evidently didn't love you that made you took a step out.

You slowly closed the door, but not before hearing his now-loud cries. "Goodbye, Shawn."

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 18

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] AO3 link

I decided a long time ago on the direction this fic was going in, so what I do in this chapter has to be done. Be assured that these two will find their happiness, however. Whoops things got a little angsty

x

The ballroom at Willowbrook Grange was large and opulent, glittering chandeliers sending the glow of countless candles over the guests within. Ladies in long gowns and sparkling jewels sipped from crystal glasses, the sound of chatter and tinkling laughter floating in the air around them. Gentlemen in white tie and tails chatted animatedly about the shooting due to take place the next day. The room was already abuzz with champagne-fuelled excitement, some light piano music in the background adding to the atmosphere in advance of the dancing that was due to take place, but Belle felt awkward among the ladies with her secondhand gown and lack of jewels. It made her very much aware that their's was a world in which she no longer belonged, and she tried to tell herself that it didn't matter. She had already received more than one curious, narrow-eyed glance, and she clutched at the Professor’s arm as he guided her forwards.

“I feel somewhat out of place,” she said under her breath, and he glanced across at her.

“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “You look as though you belong here. Every inch the fine lady.”

“A fine lady whose father lost her fortune and who now works as a governess.”

“Well, I won’t tell them if you won’t.”

“I suspect they already know,” she said, still in an undertone. “I was brought up attending these things back in Sydney. It’s customary to find out as much as one can about one’s fellow guests before one arrives.”

“Just tell yourself that you belong here, and that they’re the guests,” he said. “Give it an hour or two, and they’ll all be so drunk they’ll go cross-eyed if they try to look down their noses at you.”

Belle giggled, and he grinned at her.

“You seem to be better prepared for tonight’s social duties than I,” she said.

“Well, I find that wine helps.”

“I imagine it does.”

“Then I shall take you to our generous hostess, and go and find us a glass or something.”

He steered her past a knot of men in deep conversation about a racehorse, and towards a small group of women including Lady Tremaine. She greeted him enthusiastically, and Belle exchanged pleasantries with the two women with her as they were introduced. The women raised their eyebrows as the Professor announced that she was his assistant, and she hoped they wouldn’t ask her a question she couldn’t answer. After a few minutes of polite observations about the weather and their respective journeys, the Professor excused himself to go and fetch drinks, and Belle tried to think of a suitably inoffensive topic of conversation. Lady Tremaine had a curious look on her face, and was glancing up and down Belle’s form with growing interest.

“Why, Miss Marchland, I thought you looked familiar when you arrived here!” she exclaimed. “Seeing you in that gown makes me realise why. You’re the very image of a portrait that hangs in the gallery on the second floor of the west wing!”

“Oh?” Belle smiled politely. “Goodness me, how odd.”

“Yes, the daughter of the family that had this house before my husband’s family took it on,” she said, waving a careless hand. “Pretty young thing. There was some dreadful scandal surrounding her. Madness, I believe, although admittedly I know little of the history of this place. Thwaites is probably the person to ask.”

“How interesting,” said Belle. “Perhaps I might see the portrait?”

“Certainly. I shall take you there tomorrow,” said Lady Tremaine. “The likeness really is remarkable. Oh look, here’s dear Ella.”

She waved a gloved hand, and Belle turned her head to see Lady Ella Deville, arm-in-arm with Ursula Waters and wearing a long gown of ivory silk, a white fur stole draped around her shoulders. 

“Victoria, darling!” she drawled. “I thought we were never going to make it here. The roads get more dreadful every year.”

Miss Waters excused herself with a whispered word in Lady Ella’s ear, smiling at Belle before making her way across the floor with swaying hips. Lady Ella immediately started to bemoan the trials of travelling in England in winter, and the two women that Belle had been introduced to turned aside and began discussing the latest fashions from Paris, a subject that Belle wasn’t confident in contributing to. She glanced around, looking for the Professor, and relaxed a little as she saw him talking to Ogilvy, who appeared to have just arrived in the ballroom. He looked handsome in his white tie and black dress coat, if a little uncomfortable, and she suspected he enjoyed formal occasions as little as she did. Candlelight gleamed on the gold rims of his glasses and the silver streaks at his temples, and she watched as he took a sip of wine from his glass, gesturing to the Professor to emphasise whatever point he was making. Ogilvy glanced across, eyes crinkling as he gave her a reassuring smile, and she felt her heart lighten a little as she returned it.

“Willowbrook Grange has many attractions, does it not, Miss Marchland?”

Belle started, turning on her toes to face the speaker, and Lady Ella looked her up and down, smirking as she did so.

“Well,” she said. “Don’t you look lovely? I said being in London agreed with you, didn’t I? It appears being back in the country agrees with you even more. Or perhaps it’s simply the company you’ve been keeping.”

“You’re looking very well too, Your Ladyship,” said Belle, and Lady Ella waved an impatient hand.

“Yes, well never mind that,” she said. “Has that wonderfully sweet man professed undying love for you yet, or do I have to do everything myself around here?”

“I - I beg your pardon?” stuttered Belle, and Lady Ella rolled her eyes.

“I take it that’s a no,” she mused. “Pity, as I imagine the sentiment would certainly be returned. I swear, you’re almost as painfully obvious as he is!”

Belle stared at her, feeling her heart thump painfully as a blush rose in her cheeks, and Lady Ella grumbled something under her breath.

“My dear Miss Marchland, I’ve been in this world long enough to know when two people are suited,” she said. “Now, you may have set your sights on not getting married at all, and don’t think I don’t understand that, because if not for Aurora, I’d regret ever walking down the aisle.”

“Well, I—” 

“You have more freedom to choose than I did,” Lady Ella went on, “and to be frank, are far more inclined towards the other sex than I. If you choose anyone, make it someone who will build you up and let you shine, not seek to snuff out your light.”

Belle could feel that her mouth was open, and snapped it shut. Lady Ella seemed to take this for denial, and rolled her eyes as she sighed dramatically.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t head over heels for one another already, because I shan’t believe it,” she said.

“I - I - well, I’m sure Mr Ogilvy likes me, of course…” began Belle, and Lady Ella snorted.

“Likes you,” she said. “Yes, I should say he likes you, Miss Marchland. I should say he likes you a great deal. Are you telling me you don’t feel the same way?”

Belle desperately tried to think of something to say that was both truthful and appropriately noncommittal, and Lady Ella pursed her lips with a knowing look in her eyes.

“My own life has been empty enough of love that I recognise it instantly in others,” she said. “He’s completely besotted, or haven’t you noticed?”

Belle could feel her blush deepen as she remembered the look in Ogilvy’s eyes, the softness in them whenever her gaze caught his. The way he would glance away, as though he wasn’t ready for her to see it.

“But - we barely know one another,” she said lamely, and Lady Ella sniffed again.

“Then I suggest you get on with it,” she said. “I suspect he’ll ask you to dance this evening. Do say yes, won’t you? I do so love a spring wedding.��

She wandered off, hips swaying, and Belle stared after her, wide-eyed.

“Here we are.” 

The Professor’s voice made her jump, and she turned to face him as he held out a glass of wine. He frowned a little.

“Are you alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m well,” she said quickly, casting her eyes around for Ogilvy and finding him talking to Miss Waters. “A little overwhelmed, I think.”

“It’s certainly more people of means than I expected to find so far from the cities,” he agreed. “I’m informed that several of the well-heeled families in the area had equally important visitors for the Christmas holidays, and it looks as though they’re all crammed in here.”

“Perhaps I’ll talk to Mrs Mills,” she said, as she noticed the Mills couple enter the room, arm in arm. “Lucy mentioned some books she was interested in reading, but was worried that Lady Tremaine wouldn’t approve.”

“I daresay that’ll be a more interesting conversation topic than hunting,” he remarked, and sighed. “Oh well, nothing for it.” 

“I suppose we really ought to be sociable,” said Belle, taking a sip of her wine.

“Life is full of torments,” he said wistfully, and she giggled.

The music changed, strings starting up, and Belle glanced around, noticing the guests filtering towards the large, clear area in the centre of the room. The dancing was due to begin, it seemed. The Professor turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” he said. “This sounds a little exuberant, but I’m sure I’ll cope. Shall we?”

“I’d be delighted.”

He took their glasses and set them down on one of the tables at the side of the room, and Belle took his arm with a fond smile as they headed to the floor, other guests hurrying to join them. She could see Ogilvy watching them, a tiny grin on his face, and he raised his glass in greeting as she returned his smile. Lady Ella appeared to be stalking towards him with a determined look on her face. Remembering her earlier words, Belle blushed again, and stumbled a little.

“Steady now,” murmured the Professor. “I didn’t stand on your feet yet.”

Ogilvy watched from the sidelines as couples headed to the centre of the floor, the band playing the opening strains of a lively folk tune. It made a somewhat strange contrast to the fine clothes and jewels of the guests, but something about the music called to him, a spark of memory from another life, another time. Dancing in dew-soaked grass on Midsummer’s Eve with his head full of mead and his heart full of love. He watched Belle and Doc dance, weaving in and out of the other couples, Belle laughing as they twirled, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I hope you’re going to ask her to dance with you.”

Lady Ella appeared at his side as though she had been summoned from the ether, fur stole slipped down to her elbows and her glass half empty.

“I can’t think why my plans for the evening are of interest.”

“Because I’m determined that at least one person I care about is happily married,” she said. “And I care about both of you, so perhaps it’ll be two.”

“She’s not been in my house a fortnight, give me a chance,” he said with some asperity, and Ella sniffed.

“Not a denial. Good, I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”

“Well, that makes a change.”

“But you should still ask her to dance,” she added. “I was thinking an April wedding. June’s too hot, and you know what they say about May.”

“Well, I’m not superstitious,” he said.

“April it is, then,” she said decidedly. “And that offer of help with unlocking the secrets of a woman’s pleasure remains open.”

“I don’t need any help,” he said dryly. “And I’ll thank you to stop interfering.”

“You can thank me on your wedding night,” she said, grinning. 

Ogilvy sighed.

“Ella…”

“Fine, fine!” She threw up her hands. “She’ll say yes, by the way. She didn’t deny it either.”

She bustled off, calling to one of the guests, and Ogilvy shook his head in exasperation, taking a sip of his drink as he studied the dancers. He had attended so many social occasions in search of Belle that scanning the crowd was automatic, and it felt strange to realise that he didn’t have to, that she was there in the room with him. He watched as Lady Tremaine’s daughter Anastasia twirled by in the arms of Mr Branson, and took another drink.

“Such pretty, twittering birds.”

A familiar voice made him turn, and his heart thumped at the sight of the woman who had appeared by his side. She was dressed in a vivid green gown, the colour making her skin gleam with a copper tone, dark hair twisted up on her head and gold earrings in the shape of tapered leaves hanging almost to her shoulders. The Seer turned her black-eyed gaze on him before glancing back towards the dancers.

“Spinner,” she said, by way of greeting, and Ogilvy’s mouth flattened.

“I had not expected to see you here,” he said, and she pursed her lips.

“I go where the gods will,” she said. “Even if I do not always know their purpose.”

“Precognition must let you understand their wishes far more than I,” he remarked, and she smiled slightly.

“Foresight does not always provide context.”

He supposed that was true. Doc spent more time analysing his visions than having them.

“A matter of translation, then,” he said. “What dreadful signs and portents bring you to the north of England on New Year’s Eve?”

“A strange date to be the start of a new year,” she observed. “It was not always so.”

“I remember.”

He wondered why she was there. It was not by chance, surely. The Seer nodded towards the scene before them. Belle was laughing as she and Doc moved through the dancing couples, eyes sparkling.

“She found you,” she said, with satisfaction. “I said it would be so, did I not?”

“I give thanks to the gods for it,” he said. “But she still knows nothing of our past.”

“It was ever thus,” she said dismissively, and he frowned.

“True, but we always had the stone,” he said. “This time we’ve seen no trace of it.”

He hoped she had Seen something, that she would tell him where to find it. Perhaps that was the reason for her presence. The Seer kept her gaze averted, and he could feel himself growing anxious at her silence.

“Doc says we must go to the castle, where she used to live,” he went on. “She says she feels as though she remembers this place, so perhaps it will help. Perhaps the stone is there, tucked away in the ruins. We never got the chance to take it from her when they—” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut as a lance of pain went through him at the memory of losing her. “Was that the reason we couldn’t find it again? Doc was always able to See where the stones were, or they would turn up unexpectedly, but this time—”

He was aware he was babbling, and snapped his mouth shut. Music played, the sweeping sounds of strings and cheerful pipes, and the Seer turned slowly on her toes to face him. Her expression was calm, her gaze steady, and somehow it scared him. He set down his glass, wine sloshing over the edge onto his fingers.

“Why are you here?” he demanded roughly. “You told me she would find us again, and she has, so why come now? Why – lurk in the shadows at a country ball like a bloody spectre?”

“To tell you what I know,” she said simply.

“Which is?”

“That some dreams die, and others are born from the remains.”

Ogilvy could feel long-dead rage flare to life inside him.

“What in the name of all the demons in hell does that mean?” he snapped. “Don’t tell me my dreams are dead when I can see them in this room! Belle found us again!”

“That is not—”

“She found us again,” he insisted. “And now she’s here, we can find the stone and wake her, and—”

“You will not find the stone,” she interrupted.

The flames of anger in his chest fizzled and died as a shard of ice pierced his heart, freezing the breath in his lungs, and he shook his head.

“No no, that’s not possible,” he said numbly. “She - she came back to us, we have to find the stone! We can’t get her back and not wake her!”

“You will not find the stone,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Not in this life.”

It was as though her words had stopped time, riveting him in place, his body encased in iron, the weight almost too much to bear. But the music was still playing, the cheerful tune counting down the seconds of his life, mocking his pain. He managed to swallow, a hard lump in his throat, burning its way down through his body like a bead of acid.

“So she’s trapped, then,” he said bitterly. “Cursed to never know her true calling, her true purpose? How could you do that to her?”

“It is not my doing,” she said, looking vexed. “It is a product of the breaking of your bond. There was some - interference - there. Some form of darkness fighting the power of the gods for its own purpose.”

“It was a bunch of hypocrites dressed as holy men,” he snapped. “She was betrayed and murdered by those she tried to help, surely you know that!”

“I do not See the past,” she said. “I can only See that it will cause you problems in the future. It is no doubt what has kept you parted all this time. It’s a miracle that she found you at all.” 

“But - but she did find us!” he said desperately. “She came back to me, to Doc. She feels the love we have for her, I know she does! Surely I can make her remember me, remember us! She feels the bond, I know it!”

“You will not find the stone, Spinner,” she said gently. “Not this time.”

He shook his head slowly, as though by that gesture he could change their fate. His eyes flicked to Belle, the light making her mahogany hair gleam, her cheeks flushed as she turned in the dance. The thought of never being able to touch her, to love her, was agony.

“Why tell me?” he whispered. “Why destroy my hope of finding the stone?”

“Because otherwise you would run down your life and tear apart the world to find it,” she said gently. “And the duty you have taken on is too important to be neglected.”

Ogilvy let out a humourless chuckle.

“Oh yes, the selfishness of taking some time away from vanquishing the forces of darkness to focus on my own life and happiness,” he said bitterly. “Well, may the gods forgive me for trying to mitigate the steaming pile of refuse that destiny has handed me!”

“Destiny is neither kind nor spiteful,” she said. “It is simply inescapable.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said coldly. “I hold to my vows, Seer. I will do my duty, for the good of all. But I will find the stone and I will wake her.” 

“You will not find the stone in this life,” she repeated. “I have Seen it. You must accept it.”

“And if I do not?”

“Obstinacy does not help you.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he muttered.

“If it gives you comfort, your future selves will find it,” she said. “You will be together again, and your bond remade, but it will not be in this life.”

“When?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I cannot say.”

She was silent, and he could feel grief rising up within him, threatening to spill over and drown him in tears.

“I can’t bear this,” he said, his voice trembling. “To - to have her back in my life, always out of reach, never able to touch her? To have her a - a polite stranger? The gods wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“I think you overestimate their interest in the feelings of humans,” she remarked. “And underestimate yourself. Did you not say she feels the bond? Would she not take you, if you offered? You could still have a life together, Spinner, if not the one you seek.”

“I - I have considered asking her to marry me anyway,” he admitted. “But it would seem - dishonest - to keep such secrets from her, to lie about our history. It’s as though I could only offer her a half-life.”

“She will not be happy with another,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant…”

He ran his hands over his face, peering out at her through his fingers before dropping his arms to his sides.

“The last time we met, you said you restored her memories in a previous life,” he said slowly. “How?”

“You are not the only ones to wield power through ancient stones,” she said stiffly.  “But all power has its limits. Your bond was forged with ties of blood and magic, by the choices you made, your devotion to each other. My own magic is not part of that bond.”

“But it worked,” he persisted. “Before, when you gave her back the memory of us. It worked, yes?”

The Seer sighed, her expression troubled.

“It worked,” she said. “It also caused her much pain. No doubt you can imagine the shock she endured, the realisation of all she had lost.”

His jaw tightened. He well remembered the grief on waking, the long years of anticipation that faded into hopelessness as he scoured the world for her in vain.

“But she was alone,” he said. “No one to talk to, no one who would understand… If Doc and I had been there, things would have been different, surely!”

“Perhaps,” she acknowledged. “Having the two of you there would certainly make it easier on her, but you must still prepare yourselves. She will be hours in the waking, if not days.”

He nodded absently, mind working as he tried to think of a way to make the process more bearable. 

“I can restore her memories of the lives you shared,” she added. “But without all the stones together I cannot reforge your bond. When the sun sets for her in this life, you will lose her again.”

“I would lose her anyway!” he said urgently. “At least let her know me. Let her know her family again! At least give us this! Please!”

“Very well.”

He wanted to heave a sigh of relief, his body sagging a little as he reached for his wine. The Seer sucked in a breath, and he looked up. 

“There is something more,” she said.

His mouth flattened. Of course there is. It could never be bloody easy, could it? Dear gods, haven’t we all suffered enough? How much pain is enough?

“Tell me,” he said quietly.

“Waking her this way will have consequences,” she said. “Everything has its price, Spinner.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” he growled. “How many lifetimes have we paid that price? All of us! Don’t talk to me of what the gods demand of us and how little they care, Seer, I am well aware!”

“Nonetheless, I feel I must forewarn you,” she said. “If you wake her in this life, it will affect you in the next.”

“Affect us how?”

The Seer grimaced, shaking her head. Gold earrings swung, flashing in the candlelight.

“That I do not know,” she said. “At least not yet. I will think on it, and pray to those we serve. Perhaps the gods will answer me.”

“Perhaps they’ll think it all a wonderful joke,” he said flatly. “Seems to me we’re nothing but playthings, to be picked up and used and then cast aside when they’re bored.”

“The world is fickle,” she said. “And the gods even more so, unbound as they are by any moral code. We do not always understand the prices they set.”

“Do they?”

The Seer gave him a level look, and Ogilvy sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“If there’s a price to be paid, I will pay it,” he said. “Just tell me what I need to do to wake her.”

The Seer smiled at that.

“You must wait for the time to be right,” she said. “And I will find you, when it comes. When she is ready. Be patient, Spinner.”

“Do I have a choice?” he snapped.

“There is always a choice,” she said. “And always a price. There is not always a choice in who pays it. Remember that.”

Ogilvy looked away in exasperation, and when he turned back she had gone, disappeared into the crowd like a wraith. Bloody woman, speaking in bloody riddles! We have to wake Belle. We must! I can’t bloody bear this!

He swallowed the rest of his drink, the taste bitter on his tongue, and set down the glass, striding to the double doors and out into the cool solitude of the entrance hall. Celebrating could damn well wait.

[yoonjinkooked]

lockdown | (m) - Chapter 2

moodboard by @flajka

pairing; jungkook/female OC genre; college au, strangers to lovers, smut and tiny bit of fluff too, humor ofc rating; explicit words; 6.209

— synopsis; Eunhee is in trouble and facing a deadline - in comes curly haired jungkook to save her life, make her laugh and maybe, just maybe, fuck her brains out. When the two end up locked in a building overnight, who knows what will happen? 

warnings (for this chapter): cursing, OC still really wants to murder Tae, banter, cute Kook, slightly cocky Kook, an abundance of sexual tension, mentions of sex, drinking, mentiones of an ex (Seokjin)

A/N: I didn’t think I’d finish this this fast. Next chapter will be more challenging but i’m ready for it - i’m not sure if you are. Next chapter will be pure smut. 

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

“So, this folder is basically… Your paparazzi photos?”

I have tried to rationalize it and sure, the guy does have a reason behind it but at the end of the day, he’s just a guy with a camera, taking photos of people who are not aware of it, more often than not.

He shakes his head at my words and chuckles. “You are making it sound a lot creepier than it actually is. I am the official photographer. Whenever a student enrolls our college they need to sign a bunch of papers. It has a clause about campus promotional photos or something like that, which makes this very much legal,” he explains.

“True, very true. Doesn’t make it any less creepy through,” I joke, mentally high-fiving myself when he actually laughs this time around. I needed this comfort prize after my miserable attempt from earlier.

“You know, boss lady, these are the only photos you have,” the stupid hood is covering his face too much for me to see his expression but he sounds… cocky. “I wouldn’t complain about them too much if I were you,” he adds.

“I’m not complaining,” I lift my hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying it like it is. Paparazzi.”

“Art.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I say, laughing in relief when I realized he did not take me seriously. I was walking a dangerous line between joking with him and genuinely making fun of his profession, which is not something I want to do. The same way I wouldn’t enjoy being called a tabloid internet researcher instead of a journalist-to-be, I doubt he would enjoy being called a paparazzi. I did it in good humor and despite the earlier awkwardness, he was going along with it now.

“On a more serious note, I’m not sure how many of these can be usable,” he points at the monitor. “I hope you will have enough. You can just go through them and select the ones you deem usable.”

“That was supposed to be your job!”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Bless him for turning around. If only for a few seconds, I have a chance to actually see him properly. He is very good looking, that was obvious from the get-go. His facial features are either childlike or very manly. His jaw is as sharp as one of the knives I bought recently and yet his nose looks beyond boop-able. Jeongguk, with a hood covering his face and all, is a ridiculously good looking man.

He’s looking directly at me too and it feels like this is the first time tonight he had done so. It doesn’t last long enough for me to actually feel uncomfortable or alert but my heart went berserk once again.

Calm down, woman. He’s here and he’s hot and it’s not the end of the world.

“Let’s do this then,” I nod towards the monitor.

Jeongguk could not specify how many photos he has to offer but the folder told me it carries 3000 photos. Of course, some of them are far from perfect but with 3000 photos at our disposal, I can only hope we can select 100 or so decent ones, to go with the 24 he brought to me earlier.

Without much commotion, Jeongguk and I start working. He starts his laptop as I transfer all the photos to Hobi’s PC. Then, he transfers them as well and one by one, we go over them. As soon as I find one that I think can be usable, I read out the number, he finds it and goes down to editing. Soon enough, he is unable to keep up with me and I need to write down the numbers as he manipulates the photos to perfection. We work in silence and in about half an hour, we have 10 photos ready to go.

Knowing that my ass is most likely saved, I have a chance to relax and actually pay attention to his work. He truly does have an eye for it, that much is painfully obvious. Guilt takes over me as I realize I have never paid much attention to photography. It’s simply not something I would focus on unless it is closely related to my work. I’ve always known Taehyung and Jeongguk, or as he was known before this, G.C.F guy, were good but this truly is something else.

He has a talent to capture people in that moment, that one moment, when no masks are worn and no fake smiles are shared. Looking at photos of random students, some of whom are vaguely familiar, some of whom are my friends and others I am sure I’ve never even seen before… It’s almost scary how he can capture that one moment with such precision. I could never do that, I just know it.

“What?” Jeongguk’s voice startles me. I look at him in confusion and he points at the photo. “You have been staring at it for like a whole minute. What’s wrong with it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “It’s perfect. I mean, look at her – she looks tired but genuine. The smile she has is genuine. No matter how little sleep she had the night before, no matter how many tests she had that day, she cracked a genuine smile and you caught it,” I keep my eyes on the girl in the photo. I know her face but her name escapes me – I doubt I’ve ever even talked to her. A complete stranger to me, yet I can imagine her entire story in this photo, this one photo, because Jeongguk was at the right place, at the right time. He is, very literally, capturing perfect little moments.

“Sounds like you understand photography better than you think.”

I turn to him, already expecting my heart to do its thing and sure enough, when I see barely a hint of a smile on his face, the bastard betrays me and starts beating faster.

This is what happens when the only men you communicate with on a daily basis are either teachers or friends whom you could never be attracted to, despite them being ridiculously attractive. It is high time I get laid. Maybe then my heart would stop overreacting.

After this particular moment, I decide it might be better to be quiet. Does that make everything awkward? Sure it does. But it’s pretty darn better than actually giving myself the chance to talk, only to end up blurting out something along the lines of ‘I think you’re hot’. My ‘for work’ spotify playlist is good enough to make the entire situation bearable, as we nod our heads to the rhythm.

On and on we go, until I am suddenly looking at myself.

“Oh.”

It’s a photo of me and Seokjin. I can’t be sure when it was taken, but my short sleeves and the fact we haven’t been together for months now tells me that it was probably at the start of the school year. We are walking hand in hand, both smiling. Jeongguk captured a beautiful, genuine moment.

“Well, you are the ‘it couple’ of our campus,” Jeongguk shrugs.

“Were,” I correct him. “This is obviously an old photo. Seokjin and I are no longer together. Haven’t been for months,” I explain and watch as he nods in understanding.

“That explains the recent lack of photos of the ‘it couple’,” he jokes and I roll my eyes, knowing that unfortunately, he isn’t the first person to give us that title.

Seokjin and I spent two good years together. We were in the same circle of friends. Both focused on our studies and not so much about party life. As a couple, we made sense. But time passes and feelings fade, one thing led to another and suddenly, after two years of being in a solid relationship, I was single. There was no drama, no hard feelings and no bad words. Just two people going their separate ways.

“Keep an eye on Namjoon,” I give him a knowing look. “If he plays his cards right, maybe, just maybe, he has a chance with Hyejin. They could take Seokjin and me any day.”

“Debatable, but I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells me. For reasons unknown to my sanity, I find this incredibly funny and of course, I let out the most embarrassing snort laughter I could have possibly mustered. I don’t even bow my head in shame – that ship had sailed a while ago. “Okay, I’m starving. I’m gonna go and buy us a pizza. While I’m away, you can keep on selecting the photos you want,” he tells me as he flings the backpack onto his back.

“Can you like… promise me you’ll come back and not just run away?” I ask. It’s stupid, I know it is. Even if he is planning to leave me to fend for myself, he obviously isn’t going to say it to my face. Sadly, I am the kind of person who needs reassurance more often than not. I really need it now.

“Of course I won’t run away,” Jeongguk laughs and finally, for the first time tonight, he pulls the hood away from his face. Despite the office’s shitty lighting, I can finally see him well. His face is stunning, absolutely stunning. Clear skin, beautiful round eyes, cutest nose ever, cheeks that puff up when he smiles, like he is doing right now. “Here. I’ll even offer this. Pinky promise,” he lifts his right hand and offers me his extended pinky.

“Shit just got real,” I deadpan and I think I melted a little bit on the inside when he started laughing. “Pinky promise for life,” I link my pinky with his own before remembering an important detail I have overlooked. “What kind of pizza are you getting?”

“Pepperoni with extra cheese, duh,” he says it like that is the most obvious thing in the world.

“I like you more with each passing minute, Jeongguk,” I conclude.

“Right back at you,” he smiles for what feels like the tenth time in the last minute. “I’ll be right back. Get those photos ready so we can fix this shit,” he tells me, let’s go of my pinky and off he goes.

I am left giddy, smiling like a fool and fighting an overwhelming urge to giggle. Tonight is making me feel like a teenager with a dumb crush and strangely enough, I don’t think that I dislike the feeling. I haven’t truly focused on an attractive male since Seokjin and I were in the flirting phase. Jeongguk is… interesting. Very good looking and nice enough to catch my attention. I don’t know more than that but I wouldn’t mind finding out. Or maybe we could end up taking a different direction, with him giving me a decent fuck before we forget all about each other. Would that be a shame or would it be worth it?

For the love of everything Eunhee, focus on your work. There will be time for flirting and fucking later.

“Hey,” Jeongguk startles me when he walks back inside the office.

“There is no way you are Flash.”

“No, the door is locked,” he laughs. “Could you give me your keys?”

“What door?” I frown, confused. He literally just walked through a very much unlocked door.

“This part of the building. The big glass door? Eunhee, why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, but I am already on my feet and running out the office.

“I don’t have a key Jeongguk,” I yell back as I run towards the door. I get to it and I try to open – nope, locked. I try to jiggle it open, which is as stupid as it is useless. The door remains there, unopened, as if it is mocking me, us. I don’t have the strength in me to ride out another wave of panic.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Jeongguk tells me. “We can’t get pizza but we have the vending machine. And by the time we are done, we can call Namjoon or Tae. They’re at Jimin’s party, so they will definitely be awake. They can come and get us out in no time when we are done,” he reassures me.

“Jeongguk, Namjoon doesn’t have this key either,” I sigh in defeat as I turn my back to the door to face him. “And seeing as none of us who work here all the time have the keys, I doubt Taehyung has them either. I suppose we can try to call campus security, maybe they have a spare key but if they don’t, we’re stuck here until the cleaners stop by.”

“When do the cleaners stop by?” he asks.

“Last time I pulled an all-nighter here, they showed up around 6AM,” I tell him before looking at the clock hanging on the wall right behind him. “That means we are stuck here for… seven hours.”

“Not the end of the world,” Jeongguk shrugs casually. “We have a lot of work to do anyways. A pizza would have been nice but we won’t starve in six hours. I say we focus on getting the magazine ready for printing and then just like… nap or something.”

If I wasn’t running low on energy already, I would have taken this situation seriously. If I were my usual self, the campus security guards would already be on their way here to lock us out. But at this point, at with Jeongguk being so casual about it, I no longer have any shits left to give. Besides, as he had pointed out, we have hours of work ahead of us. Chances are we would have been stuck here with or without the door being locked.

And maybe, just maybe, somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that this might be the only chance I will ever have to spend an extended amount of time with this guy who is making me into a nervous, giddy teenage girl. Not the worst way to spend a few spare hours.

“I agree,” I sigh and force a smile at Jeongguk. “Let’s get back to work and then we’ll figure it out.”

Until 1AM, we are working mostly in silence, listening to music and occasionally chatting about casual things – usually the people in our selected photos, whether we know them or not and how if we do.

“What made you chose photography?” I ask him. I am slowly growing bored, seeing as my work was already done – I am now waiting for him to edit the selected photos. Of course, I’m not just sitting around doing nothing. Hobi’s design still needs to be finished and one by one, I am transferring the done photos as soon as he finishes them. Right now, however, I am waiting for the next one.

“I don’t know, really,” he shrugs, not even bothering to look away from the monitor as he does his editing magic. “I suppose getting a solid camera for my twelfth birthday was a turning point. Back then, I wasn’t so attached to it but I remember my parents insisting that I should be the one to take photos whenever we would travel somewhere. They said my photos always turn out the best. Then as I got older, I discovered work by other photographers. I suppose that was it.

“Are there any photographers in particular that have peaked your interest?” I ask.

“Well, Ansel Adams is an obvious answer,” he chuckles. “It depends on the genre. Testino is the best when it comes to fashion photography but that was never my thing – doesn’t make him any less brilliant. Annie Leibovitz too. I can throw out a few names but I doubt you’d know them – same way I don’t know if I could name a handful of journalists. Adams, Robert Frank and Cartier Bresson would be my favorites.”

“I feel uneducated,” I admit. “I know so little about it.”

“Hey, I just told you I doubt I could be able to name a few journalists,” he chuckles. “We all know the things we are interested in – that is very normal. But what about you? Why this? Why editing, journalism, writing?”

“I wanted to be a novelist for the longest time,” I confess. “Before I could really get into it, I realized that maybe journalism might be my thing. My dad is a journalist. It would be idiotic of me to say that I wasn’t influenced by that in some ways. I saw the good and bad sides of it and decided to go through with it anyways.”

“What are the bad sides?” he asks.

“Well, it depends on what one chooses to focus on. If you are an investigative journalist and dedicate your life to uncovering corruption and crime, it can range from death threats to actually being murdered in cold blood. My dad’s an expert in analytic journalism, which means no death threats but he was away a lot. It was never ideal but it could always be worse.”

“And what about you? Which area do you want to go in?” Jeongguk asks. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen someone take a genuine interest in my soon-to-be profession. I feel flattered.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” I admit. “Ideally, I’d like to work in investigative journalism but the side effects of it sometimes just seem like too much for me. Not to mention that with how the media is evolving, I’m not sure that would put the bread on my table. By the looks of it, I am bound to end up working as a blogger for a fashion magazine or something like that. Maybe I’ll end up being an editor, if I work hard and have luck on my side.”

“You never know,” Jeongguk tells me. “Hard work will get you places. You seem dedicated and intelligent. Although your music taste is slightly questionable,” he adds. I am about to ask why he would diss my music taste but to my horror, I recognize the song that is playing – I can’t remember the name, don’t know the artist but the singer is singing about how she is horny, horny, horny, horny tonight.

I just close my eyes, trying hard not to laugh when I hear him laughing at my reaction. I struggle to keep a poker face, but I manage. “Let’s just pretend this did not happen.”

“Nah, I will remind you of it whenever I see you in the years to come,” he jokes.

“Whatever, it’s a solid song,” I roll my eyes jokingly, enjoying this kind of teasing. He’s getting more and more comfortable around me and I am enjoying it. The more he talks, the more I realize how funny he really is. “You’ve heard my spotify playlists – you know me better than most people do.”

“True, music can tell you a lot about somebody,” he agrees. “But if I’m being honest here, your playlists only raise more questions.”

“Such as?”

“Well, it went from heavy emotional damage with Lana Del Rey,” he starts counting on his fingers. “We had a callback to teenage emo phase with ‘Fall Out Boy’, took a quick turn with ‘Whitesnake’ and now we ended up with 90s dance music about horniness. The question that is practically jumping out is what the hell you were smoking when you created such a mess of a playlist?” he asks through laughter.

“Shut up,” I jokingly punch him on the shoulder. “I was running on coffee and a lack of sleep.”

“Whatever you say, boss lady,” he grins at me. “You’re weird but likeable.”

Cue the butterflies. I say nothing but I know, I just know, he can see the stupid grin stretching on my face. I am flattered and he knows it. We are inches away to full-blown flirting and honestly, I love it.

 “Done?” he looks over at me, eyebrows raised.

“Done,” I confirm, leaning back in my chair. “Four years of studying this shit only to have to finish my career as the school paper editor literally 30 minutes before the printing deadline.”

“You’re at the finish line, that’s all that matters,” he shrugs, looking like the textbook definition of the word casual as he makes himself more comfortable on the chair, folding and sitting on his legs. “I’m the only one who knows just how nuts you went these last couple of hours and I’ll never tell.”

“No way I trust you,” I roll my eyes. “We’ve met just hours ago – I’m going to need more than just puppy dog eyes to make me believe you?”

“Puppy dog eyes?” he questions but I just shake my head, positive that the blush in my cheeks speaks for itself.

“I just have one more thing to finish,” I mumble as I scroll down to the credits page, finding the photography section. “What’s your full name?”

“Jeon Jeongguk. Why?”

“Because all the photos we have used tonight are yours,” I tell him as I highlight Taehyung’s name and backspace it into oblivion – that’s the price he pays for nearly sabotaging me inadvertently. And also, I am allowed to do that, since none of the photos are actually his. So, I type Jeon Jeongguk, G.C. F.

“You don’t have to do that,” he shakes his head, suddenly switching back to the shy guy he was when he first knocked on the office door. “I’m okay with it remaining the same.”

“I’m not – it’s your work,” I say as I attach the file to the email addressed to our printers, who will probably murder me for doing this last minute. “And done,” I click send.

“Now we nap?” he suggests.

“Or we can just… I don’t know? Talk?” I suggest.

I don’t know how to say that I want to get to know him better, maybe flirt with him and set the foundation for a chance of a good fuck later down the road, without actually saying it.

“We can talk,” he nods and I could swear there’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but it disappears before I can confirm that it’s not just a product of my imagination and wishful thinking.

There is just something about him, something I couldn’t voice, even if I wanted to. A strange kind of appeal, the golden middle between shy and cute on one side and cocky and hot on the other. The changes between the two make my interest in him grow with each passing minute.

It’s been a while since I simply wanted someone to grab me and kiss me, hard.

And I can’t say it like that because so far, he hasn’t given me a single sign that he’d be up for it. That’s exactly why I want to talk. I want to talk and see where this can go and if I have to pull out some liquid courage to make it happen, I will not hesitate.

“You know, Namjoon has an emergency stash,” I smile when I see how he looks up at me in interest. “In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t dare touch it,” I say as I stand up and head for Joon’s desk, eyes on the bottom drawer. I crouch down; jiggle the drawer two times, like he always does. It’s still a little bit stuck but with one solid pull, I manage to open in. A grin grows on my face – there lies an unopened bottle of Absolut Citron – my safety net for tonight. “I don’t think these are normal circumstances,” I add, waving the bottle and giving Jeongguk a suggestive look. “You up for it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Half a mug of vodka later, I find myself laughing at Jeongguk’s fairly stupid story about how Taehyung once almost set fire to the apartment the two of them share.

“That guy is such a hazard,” I laugh.

“Maybe, but he’s also my best friend,” he comments. “You take the risks.”

“Tell me about it,” I snort. “Try being friends with Kim Namjoon. Not a month goes by without me driving him to the hospital because he injured himself in the stupidest way possible.”

“I always thought the two of you were a thing,” Jeongguk tells me, catching me completely by surprise because that’s just about the last think I expected to hear. “I mean, before I realized that Seokjin and you are a thing. Were a thing,” he corrects himself.

“Namjoon is the last person on this planet that would want to have anything other than friendship with me,” I laugh. “It goes both ways but I have a feeling the guy would rather walk barefoot on legos than have a fling or a relationship with me.”

“Why?” he asks. Simple question, complicated answer.

“He knows me too well,” I shrug.

“Oh no,” Jeongguk laughs. “No way I’m gonna let you cop out of that one. The conversation is finally turning interesting.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he laughs. “Now elaborate. Why not?”

Is this a can of worms I want to open? Probably not. “How honest do you want me to be?” I ask anyways.

“As honest as vodka can make you at 4AM,” he smiles and for the hundredth time tonight, I have to fight the urge to coo at him.

“Joon always calls me an overachiever,” I sigh before pausing to think about how to explain what’s fundamentally wrong with me as a person. Sadly, that’s not an easy task. “Even as a teenager, I’d always know what I wanted, I would aim for it and I’d get it. Dedicated, hardworking, obsessive – call it whatever. The problem occurs whenever I realize that I can’t have it all. No one can, it’s normal, right? Not for me. I still go for it, I hit the brick wall repeatedly but I make a crack in it, I pull the bricks out and I knock it down enough for me to pass.”

“That’s admirable, not bad,” Jeongguk interrupts me. “I wish I was more like that.”

“No, you don’t,” I chuckle, pausing to chug some vodka down because I am absolutely not drunk enough for this. “The problem starts when other aspects of your life start paying the price. For example, Seokjin. I could never put him before my work. Never, ever.”

“Isn’t that normal?” he asks, looking confused as he changes his position so that he is leaning on the wall. He is also a solid foot closer to me now and I am not complaining. “I don’t know how the two of you have functioned but isn’t it ridiculous to think that one’s romantic partner should be the center of one’s life?” he asks.

“Thank you,” I nod my head. “I tried to justify it like that. I still believe in that, too.”

“Is that why you and Seokjin are no longer together?” he asks.

“That’s even more complicated,” I let out a chuckle. “It just… it ran beyond the expiration date. I can’t explain it without sounding like a bitch because I was with him for two years and he really is an amazing guy but that just… that wasn’t me. He wanted me to invest more in the relationship and while that is completely fair, it’s not what I wanted to do. That is what made me realize that we were heading nowhere. When you don’t want to make the extra effort, that’s alarming.”

“It’s also the way life goes,” he shrugs. I am impressed and envious of how casual he sees the things that were absolutely not casual to me. “If you think about it, every relationship in your life will either end in a break up or with a happily ever after. Literally, every relationship.”

Shit, he’s right. “I never thought about it like that.”

“I have,” he chuckles. “Whenever I realize it’s going nowhere and it’s not my happily ever after, I end it. That’s why I’m single. It’s easier to just… not date anyone than to tell every single person that yeah, that’s not it. Sorry. Thanks for the time,” he adds and I laugh.

“True, that does sound wrong,” I agree. “I’ve been fighting the feeling that Seokjin’s not for me for a long time.”

“Not good enough?”

“More like too good,” I correct him. “He really is a great guy. Kind, smart, funny. He’s genuinely a good guy and I’d sing his praises for hours but it was just too… I guess boring is the word I’m looking for.”

“He’s a boring guy?” he asks. Wow, he is really interested in this.

“Kind of. Don’t get me wrong, I’m hardly the life of the party myself. But it was all just so… proper with him. Movie dates with an obligatory hand over the shoulder, flowers for birthdays, always red roses. Paying for everything, nice restaurants. If we had stayed together, it would go graduation, engagement, marriage, house in the suburbs and two kids – a boy and a girl. It wasn’t boring, not really. But it was just so… proper. Excitement-less. Always blockbusters, never indie movies. Always seats at concerts, never the pit. Dull conversations – about politics and the economy, never about conspiracy theories or the supernatural. The sex,” I suddenly stop, realizing I may have taken my rant too far.

“A bit boring too?” Jeongguk asks, a grimace mixed with compassion taking over his face.

“Yeah,” I nod my head. “Good but… same. All that I mentioned before, it’s fun, it’s nice but after a while you just… want something that will keep you on your toes a little bit. Not a fuckboy or anything like that but just a guy who can actually say something that might surprise me.”

“I like your way of thinking,” he mumbles, looking away from me and keeping his eyes directly in front of him. “You’re not wrong, about anything. And even if you were, on paper, you don’t need to follow the paper – you need to follow yourself. Yeah, many girls want exactly what you’ve just described but you’re not one of those girls and that’s okay. I have a feeling that you are looking at it as a flaw but it’s really not. If something doesn’t make you feel happy or content, it’s absolutely normal to walk away from it.”

“Thanks,” is all I can mumble, knowing that any other words may not be safe. This is not the direction I hoped our conversation would take but I can’t complain – it’s oddly therapeutic.

“You’re so hard to judge,” he chuckles and turns around to offer me a smirk. “I thought I had you all figured out even before we met. Then tonight, I realized I was wrong. And an hour later, I realized I was wrong again. And just now, I have to admit that I am wrong again. You don’t fit in the typical groups.”

“Okay, you gotta elaborate that,” he chuckles as I urge him to explain. “Come on. Elaborate.”

“Overachiever. I thought that too, at first,” he tells me. “A perfect girl, with perfect grades and a perfect boyfriend. Then I get here and see you panicking and hear your playlist and I figure you’re one of those ‘inner turmoil’ kind of girl who thinks the world doesn’t get her and listens to ‘The 1975’ and Banks and hates men and most women too and just wants to be left alone.”

“Hey,” I reach over quite a bit to hit him on the shoulder. “Don’t diss ‘The 1975’.”

“My point is,” he laughs as he rubs his shoulder jokingly. “You’re not one of those groups. You’re not any of the other groups either. You are… a healthy mix of a few of them. I can’t name them all – I don’t know you well enough. I can’t label you either and that’s kind of cool.”

“Okay, give me an unpopular opinion,” I change the topic in the speed of light, realizing that if he refers to me as ‘cool’ I will pull down his pants and give him the suck of his life. While that is something I would very much like to do, I still haven’t received any signs of him sharing the thought.

“Are you really at a concert if you’re not in the pit?” he laughs and I hit him on the shoulder again, this time simply scooting closer to do that and remaining in the same position.

“Yes, you are,” I laugh. “Pit is better but you can still enjoy a concert if you’re seated. Besides, that’s not an unpopular opinion. Give me something controversial.”

“Androids are better than Iphones,” he tells me and I gasp in fake shock.

“Oh no you didn’t,” he laughs at me. “How dare you diss the apple?”

“Your turn,” he nudges me with his arm.

“Flavored drinks suck,” I mumble as I look at my mug of vodka, my precious koala mug being used for such a shitty drink. “I’m not a drinker. I’m very much a lightweight but if I do drink, I want to taste the drink, not artificial aroma and sugar.”

“Not to mention it tricks you into thinking you’re not drinking much,” he adds.

“Next thing you know, you’re standing up and the world is spinning.”

“Eunhee, I hate to break it to you, but the world is spinning,” he tells me. Another hit on the shoulder and I realize that I am about two hits away from being considered extremely violent.

“Shut up. Your turn.”

“Mint chocolate chip ice cream is awesome.”

“YES!” I startle him with a yell. “Yes! Yes! Mint chocolate chip enthusiasts will rule the world.”

“Wow, if we keep this up you will probably start a revolution,” he laughs. “Do you want to continue with the unpopular opinions talk or do something else?”

Well, what I really want is to grind on him until he has tear in his eyes and is begging me to let him cum in his pants. Or for him to bend me over a desk and fuck me until I see stars – both works for me, really, but it’s not exactly something I can say. I don’t have enough vodka in my system.

“I have a shocking one for you – foreplay is better than sex,” I announce.

“Oh, that is an unpopular opinion,” he nods his head, looking pensive. “May I ask why?”

“Because people, and when I say people, I mean men, underestimate the value of it for a woman,” I tell him. “Some enjoy it very much, of course. But in most cases, they just wanna slide it in and get it over with and that’s not how it works for us, at least not for me. I need that kind of… mutual attention. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy or extensive but like… just making out. Just making out is such a fundamental part of foreplay and sex. It’s not that special – just a kiss with the passion amped up. But god, isn’t it important? Nothing beats that moment of lazy kissing, body to body, gentle touches and squeezes and subtle grinds, all while all the words are left unsaid between the two because they are too busy moving their tongues and biting lips and struggling to breathe properly because a good make out needs to leave your breath hitched and mouth open and… a moan stuck in your throat. A good, solid make out session is a preview into what kind of lover you will have and I’ll be damned but sometimes the trailer is more enjoyable than the actual movie, if done well.”

I stop talking with my mouth hanging open. I have no idea where that came from but I do know vodka fueled it. I stop my rant and struggle to think of a sudden change of topic, trying to ignore the slightly wide-eyed look on Jeongguk’s face that my rant had caused.

It sounded more like a political discussion than make out talk. I need to learn when to shut up.

“Yeah, that’s enough of unpopular opinions,” he lets out an awkward chuckle and I know that this is another moment I will regret in the years to come. “Don’t get me wrong, it was fun,” he chuckles when he notices the look on my face. “But I’d much rather make out with you right now.”

Oh. Oh. Okay. That’s… very convenient.

The tiniest of smirks that graced his face evaporates before my eyes and turns into a frown, caused by my initial lack of response – it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting the suggestion. “If you want to, that is,” he mumbles, turning into a nervous mess, nowhere near the hot, straight-to-the-point guy he was literally seconds ago. “If you don’t, that’s totally fine and we can just talk about music and-“

“I want to,” I interrupt him. “I… really want to,” I emphasize the really, knowing that looking a bit desperate is not only honest, but will also work in my favor.

“Get over here,” he chuckles as he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him.

[ladyanatui]

The Seduction of Motomiya Daisuke, Ch. 6 *A Daiken Fic*

Daisuke’s friendship with Ken has always come easily. It’s the lusting after your best friend part that’s hard.

He just didn’t realize how hard until Ken starts acting weird.

Now, Daisuke isn’t sure how long he can handle his BFF and roommate’s sudden attentions. At least, not without potentially ruining a 12-year friendship.

AO3 | FF.Net

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

DAISUKE

Saturday, 2 a.m.

"Aaaahh…"

My eyes ache, but I force them open and eye the digital clock on the kitchen counter.

Fuck, it's only been an hour since I last looked at the time. Haven't done more than doze for the last few hours. Didn't even bother going to bed.

"Mmmmm…no, no…"

But Ken's having a nightmare, and even miserable and half-dead, I can't let him suffer. At least not alone.

I move on autopilot, staggering down the hallway, hand clutching the wall for support.

Ken's trembling when I crawl into his bed. Only when I wrap him in my arms and pull him tight against me, his face buried in my chest, do the spasms start to settle.

"Shhhh," I murmur, running my fingers through his silky hair, then down his back in slow deliberate motions. "It's okay now."

He shivers in my arms and presses closer.

I pull back enough to wipe away a couple tears glistening on his cheek and frown at how pink and puffy his eyes are—a sure sign he cried himself to sleep a few hours ago.

My eyes clamp shut; my jaw clenches. "I'm sorry." I'm not sure what exactly I fucked up and I know he's too out of it to hear the apology, but I'm sorry. "I never meant to make you cry."

I take a long breath and tuck his head under my chin. "Everything's okay, I promise. I'll make sure of it." My fingers rub circles down his back until his breathing evens out.

After that, I can finally relax.

*

Saturday, 7 a.m.

Thump, thump, thump…

A heart throbs deep through my ribs, and it takes a long moment to register it isn't mine. Admittedly, my heart beats to the same rhythm, so it's an easy mistake to make.

I inhale deeply and rub the sleep from my eyes. The world smells like jasmine and rose and sandalwood, and I would know that combination anywhere.

My eyes flash open.

Ken's head rests on my chest, an ear to my heart, his hand under my shirt, fingers grazing my ribs. His body clings to my side, one leg slung over mine.

I hold him tighter, enjoying the unabashed closeness. On the few nights we've shared a bed in the past, Ken has always been pressed firmly against the wall in the morning, as far out of reach as possible. If I woke up every morning with Ken snuggled up to me, I'm pretty sure I could die happy.

For now, nothing will prevent me from enjoying this moment.

My stomach grumbles.

Ugh, I guess I do require food. As much as I want to, I can't stay in bed forever.

Besides, who knows what kind of mood Ken will be in when he wakes up. He probably doesn't even know I'm here, and based on last night, I doubt he'd be too pleased to find me in his bed.

I close my eyes one last time, enjoying a final moment of cuddling before this has to end. Before I have to go back to the reality of being best friends and nothing more.

He releases a deep sigh—

And I take that as my cue to leave before he wakes up.

It takes some skillful maneuvers and finesse—meaning I fall on my ass and nearly drag the sheets and Ken down with me—before I can slip from the bedroom, and after a quick stop in the bathroom, I study the contents of our fridge and pantry.

Maybe if I make breakfast, he'll be in a better mood. He always likes it when I cook breakfast.

I turn on the radio and bounce around the kitchen, gathering ingredients. I start the rice and throw some chicken stock in a pot while chopping up the nori and tofu, then toss the nori in the simmering stock.

There's no sound from Ken's bedroom—odd in itself since he's usually up by now, even on the weekends—but when AKB48's latest single comes on, I twist the knob hard and dance around the kitchen, no longer concerned about the noise.

I shuffle from side to side while whipping together the egg, soy sauce, and mirin, then move on to prep the miso.

The steps and movements are simple, easy, memorized, and my eyes dart across the peninsula to where the living room is still a mess from last night.

Well, as messy as Ken ever allows it. Such a neat freak.

I frown as I study the vacant living room. The table is pushed to the side and the television is still pulled out to the middle of the room for easy viewing.

Honestly, I don't know what the hell happened last night. Or really any of yesterday. Why was Ken acting so weird? He kept switching from strangely, openly affectionate to more distant than normal, and I don't know how I'm supposed to make heads or tails of that.

Don't get me wrong, the guy can be moody as fuck, but yesterday was a special case. I just don't know why.

I slide the tofu and green onions into the broth and stir it together before leaving it to cook more, pausing by the counter.

My mouth tightens into a firm purse.

Something doesn't sit right. Like there's something obvious and important I'm missing, but I can't put my finger on it.

I heave a sigh and turn back to the food.

If it's important, I'll figure it out eventually.

The rice is done now, and I spoon it into bowls and stir in the egg mixture, then leave it to thicken. The miso soup should be about done too.

I pause to study the countertop, then begin to put away all the ingredients.

You know what's funny?

Last night, during that stupid movie neither of us paid attention to after the midway point, I used judo skills he taught me to get out of that painfully awkward mounted position, but Ken didn't use any grappling moves on me once. He definitely could have.

Judo was one of the few activities he continued after he was no longer the Kaiser. Yeah, he had to work his skill level back up to where it had been under the influence of the Dark Seed, but he did—or at least pretty damn close. And once he regained his confidence, he added jiu jitsu to his many talents.

What little I know is from watching all his matches like the amazing friend I am and from us goofing off. I kept getting pissed off when he won our every wrestling game, so he took it upon himself to teach me some throws and escapes. I managed to win a few after that, though I'm still convinced he was just stroking my ego.

His skill is far beyond my level, and we're both well aware of that fact. He could have escaped that mount easily, even with his hands pinned.

Wait.

That means he chose not to. Did he want me to hold him down like that, to straddle him? Why?

Unease settles in my stomach.

Because I can only come up with one reason:

He wanted me to kiss him.

I fan myself, suddenly overheated from working at the stove.

Okay, yeah, if that's not what he wanted, kissing him would've been a huge, awkward, embarrassing mess, but if it is…fuck, I missed a perfectly good opportunity to kiss Ken and I should be kicking myself.

I've liked him so long I stopped considering any of this possible. The idea that childhood celebrity Ichijouji Ken, even if he's been my best friend for years, could reciprocate my feelings is laughable.

But I don't feel like laughing anymore.

I close my eyes, hands clenched, and struggle to breathe.

"Motomi—"

I jump, suddenly grateful my hands are clamped on the counter's edge instead of holding any of the food.

Behind me, he hesitates, then says, "Daisuke, why is the music so loud?"

I turn my attention to the radio instead of Ken and move over to turn it down. At some point, the station switched songs, probably a few times, but I was far too inside my own head to notice.

"Sorry," I say when it's quieter, finally glancing over my shoulder.

On the opposite side of the peninsula, Ken leans against a nearby wall, heavy eyes watching me, his black hair mussed up on one side in a way that screams nothing short of fucking adorable. Or you know, adorably fuckable. Thankfully, he doesn't look angry or upset, but I'm not taking any chances.

I clear my throat and slide two bowls toward him. "I made breakfast."

He eyes them carefully, then scoots closer to examine the contents: one bowl of miso soup and one of tamago kake gohan. "Thank you," he murmurs, not meeting my gaze, but he accepts the chopsticks and soup spoon with a soft smile and sits on the stool there. He looks oddly peaceful.

I stay in the kitchen while I eat, keeping the distance between us.

For a while, we eat in silence, both picking at the food. Ken always eats slowly, especially in the morning, but I still can't quiet my mind—all I can think are the words kiss and Ken over and over. God, if I keep this up, my brain is going to explode.

Ken takes a quiet spoonful of his miso, then assesses me with freakishly piercing eyes. "You alright, Motomiya? You look shaken."

My reaction is somewhere between shrugging and shaking my head. Yeah, that's real fucking convincing.

But he doesn't push the matter. "Are you still going to show me how to cook today?"

I pause mid-bite, having completely forgotten. "Uh, yeah, sure. We need to go shopping then."

He nods and offers me one of those perfectly sweet Ken smiles that's made me think I'm having a heart attack on multiple occasions.

There aren't many people who earn that particular smile, and like always, I'm honored and pleased to be one of the select few. But unlike every other time, my brain is now going to spend the next twenty minutes dissecting what exactly that smile means.

[goobergamer]

Welcome to the Real World, chpt. 1/?

Summary: ‘The real world’ is Marine Corps slang referring to civilian life after discharge. -(x)

Or, Washington, new and struggling veteran, moves into a duplex where he has a strange and surly neighbor with a penchant for the color red.

Pairing: Sarge/Washington (Red vs. Blue)

Warnings: None for this chapter I don’t think, please ask me if you need specific content tagged for!

A/N: *shows up after over a year of hiatus* hey have some sargington modern war vets au

Thanks to Aryashi and another tumblr user (please @ me if this was you) for plot help ...2 years ago now! It wasn’t wasted!

Current chapters on tumblr: (1, 2, 3, 4)

fic was crossposted to AO3: (x)

It’s a sultry August day outside, and the Veterans Affairs Outreach Coordinator’s office isn’t much better. A box fan chugs along in the corner, only succeeding in stirring up the air around Wash’s legs as he sits stiff-backed in his chair across the desk from the paunchy adviser tapping away on his computer.

The man has been rambling on about service and medical history for some time, taking down details that could impact Wash’s benefits. Wash, for his part, answers the questions mechanically and leaves the system to decide his fate. His mind fades in and out like the heat waves shimmering outside the window. Everything major would already be tucked away in his file, accessible to the man. There’s no reason for Wash to drag up any gory details in his mind for what’s simply an excess of precautionary paperwork.

“...Alright,” the man says, “with all of that covered, let’s talk housing. You’re staying in a motel right now, right? Nothing permanent yet?” He waits for Wash to nod before continuing. “Within the past year, we’ve begun providing reduced-rate housing opportunities for vets on disability. You would qualify, so if you’re interested we can set up a tour of one of the duplexes this week and--”

“No, that sounds alright. I’ll take one.”

“Are you sure? It may be good to see the layout, meet the neighbors if anyone’s already moved into the other half. Your benefits could potentially cover some apartments in the area that aren’t under our management.”

Wash shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure it’s fine.” He has nowhere in particular to go, so one roof over his head is as good as any.

The man pauses, but simply replies with another “alright,” before moving on. “The duplexes have all of the major appliances, built-in counters, et cetera, but are otherwise unfurnished. Do you have any furniture for it?”

“No.” Wash hasn’t been on this side of the ocean for more than small stretches in years, and had always stayed with teammates when doing so, so there’s nothing in storage to pick up.

The man nods, seeming more at ease with this dismissal than the previous. It’s likely a common enough circumstance for new vets. “Alright. You don’t have a car yet either, right? It will probably take a couple weeks for us to get the paperwork settled for you to move into a place, so during that time we can set up some days for you and me or one of the other coordinators to go and rent a U-Haul, stop at some places for you to pick out and purchase some furniture. Okay?”

“Sure, sounds good. Any day works for me.” Again, it hardly matters to him. But Wash plays it safe; he hasn’t just gotten himself out of the hospital only to be sent back with people fearing him a suicide risk if he expresses too much lack of concern for this transition. It’s just a far cry from what he’s used to, having to consider the appearance of end tables important. “Is that all you needed today?”

The coordinator pauses a long moment, seeming to evaluate Wash from over the desk. “Corporal, if you’re interested, there are groups around the state for veterans who have been through similar experiences. We can provide you transportation to chapter meetings, it could help--”

“I’m not a Corporal anymore. And thanks, but I’m fine.” His tone is carefully neutral. It’s been carefully neutral for weeks, always in the face of help he doesn’t want, or need.

The man nods, obviously not intent on pushing the matter. “Okay. If you ever decide you want to go, just give me a call and we’ll make it happen.” He slides Wash a business card, who pockets it without looking it over. “Otherwise, you’re good. I’ll be in touch within the next few days to figure things out for the move.”

Wash gives a perfunctory goodbye and leaves the office, putting all of the matters from his mind, though he can’t shake the feeling of the coordinator’s eyes following his back all the way down the hall.

---

“You’ve got a pretty good place, been renovated since the last guy moved out West. Your neighbor’s been there a few months now. He’s...an interesting guy, but keeps to himself as far as I know. And if he makes too much noise even if you talk to him about it, just let me know,” the coordinator (should have learned his name by now) tells Wash as he navigates a van along narrow backroads. There’s a cargo trailer hitched to the back filled mostly with boxes; besides the mattress and boxspring, Wash had chosen all build-your-own furniture. He has quite a nest egg built up from his years of active duty on top of VA benefits and loans, could have easily afforded to get some sturdy pre-built stuff, but he needs something to do with his hands, something to keep his mind sharp. When time isn’t floating around without any concern for him, the minutes drag painfully long.

Wash hums noncommittally at the coordinator’s comments; a little bit of noise from a neighbor wouldn't hurt. It’s better than the quiet. Far better than the loud.

He shakes his head before that line of thought can go too far, rolling the window down to let the warm breeze coast his skin. There, there are the good memories, patrolling streets in armored cars, not active firefights, but the rare peaceful moments when they could cup the wind in their hands and watch the landscape pass by. Almost seemed like a vacation, sometimes, when he ignored the gun resting in his lap.

He’s pulled out of his reverie as the van rolls offroad into a gravel driveway, laid in a circle around the wide porch stairs of a two-story duplex, empty save for a worn red-and-white pickup he assumes belongs to his new neighbor. The house has pale yellow siding, with two doors on either side of the porch and a couple upstairs windows in each half visible from the front. Nothing too special, but Wash isn’t looking for special. Wash isn’t really looking for anything at all; he’d easily take “nothing in particular” so long as it has four standing walls.

While the day is young and the coordinator still feels limber, they focus on the heaviest items in the trailer, dragging in the bed, a flatscreen Wash had bought for white noise, a few tables of varying sizes, and a boxed-up sectional couch. A handful of other items follow it, some secondhand books purchased half at random and a small shelf for them, a bag of thrifted clothes, but there will still be plenty of empty space in the duplex by the time it’s all sorted. That’s fine with Wash. With mainly white walls and pale hardwood, it will look clean, austere. He’s seen enough grime to last him through at least this lifetime.

Wash is carrying one of the last small boxes up the porch steps when the other front door swings open wide, what’s presumably his neighbor tromping onto the porch to look him over. The man is a good fifteen years older than Wash at minimum, he’d guess. A few rugged scars line his face, one running through his gray hairline and leaving a patch missing in its wake. On the short end of the stick, but with his bulky shape and heavy stance, he’s built solid.

“You can stop right there! I don’t want whatever you’re sellin’, proselytizin’, abandonin’, or thinkin’ about TP’in’ my house with!” the man calls out to Wash, voice gruff with a southern twang.

Wash glances down at the box in his hands. “Oh, I’m not here for—I’m moving in, I’m your new neighbor.”

“Really? Ain’t been one in a while, since the last guy went AWOL.”

“Uh, yeah, I heard he moved out West?” Since the man on the porch seems to have stood down from his posturing, Wash supposes he’s in the clear. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Sarge,” his neighbor offers. “You?”

Sarge? Really? If Sarge lives in this housing, then he’s out of whatever branch he had formerly inhabited, so not much of a “sarge” anymore (Army? Air Force? Which ones use that nickname?) and it’s a little odd to pull that on Wash, especially when there’s no confirmation that he was a lower rank.

Well, Wash can proffer the same level of distance, himself. He isn’t about to start demanding to be called “Corporal”, feels too untrue now that he’s here, but with the time and significance it had held, his codename still feels real. “Washington,” he replies, coolly.

Before either man can comment further, the coordinator steps out of the house, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of a hand. “Phew, alright, I think that should be the—Oh, hey, Sarge.”

You call him Sarge too?

“Stephen!” Sarge practically shouts over Wash’s thoughts, walking over to the coordinator. “Did’ja get my voicemails?”

“Yeah, Sarge, I got them.” The coordinator—Stephen—looks even more worn out just from that one question. “I don’t think we’ll be able to help fund construction on, uh, ‘an underground bunker with automated security’?”

“Damn cutbacks...Just take the money out of my life insurance!”

“You have term life. Nobody gets money unless you die. And cost isn’t the only reason—”

On that note, Wash decides to take his leave. Though Sarge doesn’t seem bothered with his nearby presence for the conversation, he isn’t sure that he’s supposed to be aware of the particulars of Sarge’s benefits. And frankly, he doesn’t really want to hear more of the ridiculousness that his new neighbor had in mind for their yard.

“Thanks for all of the help, Stephen. I’ll let you know if I need anything. Nice to meet you, Sarge.” He shuffles by them to his door, leaving Sarge to tangle the coordinator further in conversations on his ideas for doomsday prep and questions regarding if insurance companies realize he’s faked his own death, whether they could take their money back.

Inside his new home, it’s still, and quiet. A large part of Wash has been looking forward to this, the promise of a space where there’s no thunderous sounds or movements to split his head open, make his skin crawl; nothing unless he allows there to be. But as he stands in the entryway, Wash finds that there’s no big sigh, no settling moment as he inspects his new home. He finds he feels largely the same.

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Finland to Eurovision with a meme icon and his side-kick

“heeeeeey what is that song on that video???” Definitely not Darude - Sandstorm. Grow the fuck up.

I mean that they basically threw off the open call for songs from Finnish artists, instead opting for having one artist national final, usually one very known but very gettable-bored-of name so that they could get some more viewership rather when they pick a random nobody from a bunch of other random nobodies. Last year YLE got themselves an artist whose Eurovision ticket was long overdue, but this year they went the extra step and brought us HIM.

No, not that HIM. They can't go anyway as they've already disbanded. I'm talking about HIM.

Yes, THAT HIM. Meet Toni-Ville Henrik Virtanen, which thankfully has a pseudonym to publish his music with - Darude. Almost 20 years ago he published this beautiful techno single "Sandstorm" with lyrics like "du du du du du du du du du du du du". And now it's become the big-ass target of memery for the past few years on the Internet, with Darude being very well aware of it all - I don't think he has escaped questions about "Sandstorm" now that the Eurovision interviewers media is on horizon and interviews literally every single representative, no matter if they're shy or unpopular with the bookies at all.

And even if "Sandstorm" was the only thing to shake his tiny little Finnish world, it did not break Darude to be just a one-hit wonder (well he still looks like one but yeah) and he's got more music out ever since. And it probably sounds a little too tragic when YLE resorts to just nagging and begging Darude to represent their nation, even kinda secretly hoping that thanks to him Finland can have a qualification just solely for the meme factor. Darude even said so that he at first rejected their calls, but this year became THE year for him to go, and he's not alone obviously - his credited vocalist friend for this ride to Tel Aviv became Sebastian Rejman, a bit washed-up media star who already did some collaborating with Darude.

So the format was basically the same for this year's UMK - artist announced separately, then each of their 3 songs gets published every week on a specific weekday, with single cover art and a music video already, and the Finnish people together with international juries vote for the best track. Simple as that. Unlike with Saara Aalto though, all Darude & Sebastian songs were barely even distinct from one another in sound - just techno songs that have a piece of "Sandstorm" with themselves. Well only 2 do anyway. But still, techno/house songs to listen to on the radio when you're driving and minding your own business. And I had hard time picking favourites but all of them were alright I guess. Yet somehow my least favourite happened to win... and that was "Look Away", very much so inspired by natural disasters and how do we all ignore everything around us. No matter if it's a storm or hurricane or tornado or wind throwing sand at our eyes.

I don't know why the song didn't click with me all that much at first, I suppose it was because it's just a mindless gloomy techno song that raises global awareness (we already have Denmark talking about that, but they're insisting that "love is forever", while Finland is just... getting up more seriously in all this), and besides that, it's just incredibly repetitive. It consists more of the pre-chorus-ish chorus (I mean the line "is it in my head? Am I the only one?" and that other line preceding) and the actual chorus that mostly goes like "look away, look away, look away...". Even to the point when the song ends with some additional “look away”ing but under a different drum beat. What's it with Finns having a passion for the word "away"? We already had seen them sending a "Sing It Away", which was basically a cheer-up tune telling you to sing your problems off... while this year? We're trying to NOT look into the problems dead in the eye. We're looking... erm, uh, away.

But now I do have to say that I somewhat like it. Tell it to ya - the B minor chord is possibly one of my least favourite music keys, so I might as well be a little bit more negative on it if takes the song with itself to sound incredibly dull and painfully meh. So thankfully we'll be hearing it live half a step lower (idk if that's what it is with most EDM singers in Eurovision that shit like this can be possible, as well as idk why are they allowed into Eurovision in the first place. But seriously, why can't you just choose the same key you sang in in studio for Eurovision...), which made the song sound better to me - as a Nightcore junkie, I am passionate about hearing songs in different keys all the darn time, to see in what key would a certain song sound the best. It's usually the song's key that makes me like a song better or worse live rather than a live performance itself (though in some NFs I can see which of my favourite acts are DoA by not even emoting towards them - my emotion has to be evoked, and if I evoke it on purpose, well then, I'd just rather stay motionless completely on anything and only yelp if a song causes me to do this unexplainedly). We'll see how Sebastian will execute his singing live. As for now, he's the captain of this sinking ship that hit a small iceberg (another one of the disasters we usually "look away" from until it's found in our history books). Not Darude. Darude's just merely a musical hold-up of the disaster. It all has to depend on the vocalist and if the staging clicks with the audience. Sure, Darude can put on a red wig and green sunglasses so that he could click with the meme audience, but that won't get the Finns far.

So I like this song, it actually has some cool musical moments thrown in (I like the piano for one), I can enjoy this off my free time. But Estonia does it better at the "Finno-Ugric EDM-ish entry about Mother Nature's tantrums" category and I ain't even sorry for saying this. But I gotta be sorry for Darude. This year's UMK had the lesser care about it because... well, these songs weren't exactly inspiring or anything, and with people wanting something groundbreaking, their hopes kept on vaning away with each and every song release of the UMK entries': "oh so the next 2 two songs will be good right?" "oh so then the last one will be the best one, yeah right?" "...oh, okay then .-." And him, as the Finnish meme king, should have deserved a better year for a better Eurovision stint, so he could have become something à la Epic Sax Guy. Right now I mostly see a middle-aged DJ with 2 kids, not a redhead dude with green sunglasses looking shadily on us. And that's okay sometimes because memes don't necessarily need to be remembered for memes (just like I mostly remember Kanye West for music, and then memes come second), but Finland's gonna take a miracle to get through, and I hardly see any. That's an aina mun pity.

Approval factor: Eh, it's alright, but I would certainly not hold it up to high regards post-contest? lol.

Follow-up factor: it's kiiiiinda bleak knowing that after giving us probably one of the most favourable dark horse efforts for Eurovision they're now going down the dancier route, with one entry after being a banger, the other being a dad banger. Ah well. It doesn't flow so neatly in my eyes, it seems.

Qualification factor: almost dead in the tracks. Finland flows anywhere they can, having a lot of bad luck for 3 years this decade, and I doubt that the juries will be supporting this heavily, considering they are better at rating good vocalists over bad ones, so I don't think this will sail through. But I secretly have hopes in this. It's not that bad, but Estonia is in this semi too, and it's a friendlier EDM track, so I don't quite think that repetitive will out-compell the good formulaic. Plus, Sebastian has a lot to fix vocally, and I doubt that he will carry Finland any further if he doesn't fix anything, so so far the chances of Finland aren't looking up imo. Bottom 5 at the semi is more likely if not already the actual outcome. Maaaaybe 10th in the semi at best, but I doubt it.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

The more this section pops up in my works, the less I wanna recap national finals anymore. I hope there’s more breather moments with me having to review a lot of internal selection songs in between the ones from NFs, because this whole season was an utter disaster, and it’d help if the next one isn’t. So let’s check in on Finland's selection’s best:

• But seriously, did anyone ever see Darude as a Finnish representative coming??? No??? Me neither. I was just sitting there, waiting to see if there's a hope for Mikael Saari (you know, that balladeer guy from previous UMKs - I do believe some audiences love him just as much as Saara Aalto, who only was on one UMK and one Euroviisut) to be announced on this special separate programme. Nope - the trilingual hosting trio of the programme that included Krista Siegfrids in it as the token Swedish speaker just happened to happily proclaim Darude as THE Finnish hopeful... and the world was s h o o k e t h. Just look at him go. His smug grin is still iconic on here.

• During the wait for all the UMK songs to pile up, the excitement for Darude faded away and everyone moved on to support other countries. I can't blame them, because I have found like one decent song this UMK that's still worth listening to twice a year or so - "Superman". Where Darude becomes the everyday hero for ordinary people that have difficulties in live to do mundane stuff. Maybe this song would have made him look like a better meme than his current entry would have? Just watch him go on his DJ booth dressing like a knock-off superhero because EBU doesn't allow blatant advertising. A way better gimmick than Gromee's snakey hands. Alas, no one will have to hear "Superman" anymore. Granted it's just an EDM song just like any other, but somehow I liked it best, end of.

• There's at least one memorable screenshot from UMK as well, so I'm happy with that. I saw this pop up on my Twitter time line and I could not stop laughing inside. Seriously. Krista and this other guy should host ESC provided Eurovision is ever coming back to Finland. They had a lot of iconic outfit changes during the NF itself (and the NF itself had "Look Away" with some dancer on a cube but they scrapped the tall cube for Tel Aviv entirely), but those floral onesies are my favourite.

Now I kinda hope that there’s something that will alarm YLE in the meantime that Finland needs a better approach for Eurovision and we’ll see another fully-fledged UMK in the works next year, and then Finland can be great again. For now, I’ll just wish “onnea” to Darude and Sebastian, with hopes that people don’t look away from their song at all! (but most likely they will so what’s the point.)