#i want this album to be about her own failures than anything else

[ileftherbackhome]

i hope i can fix him no really i can is about taylor's own weaknesses and delusions in her romantic failings tbh, i need pt 2 to midnight rain so badly but like one where she is actually honest about the underlying desires informing her actions

[beautification-tales]

Getting Fit #2

The gym, usually a place of self-improvement and physical transformation, felt more like a glorified torture chamber to Tara. She huffed and puffed her way through another set of lunges, feeling like a beached whale among the lean, toned bodies that surrounded her. Her overweight frame seemed to radiate a sense of defeat, even as she struggled to keep up with the other patrons. It wasn't as if she didn't want to be healthy; she had tried everything from fad diets to expensive personal trainers, but nothing seemed to work. Just as she was about to give up and head home, she felt a pair of familiar eyes on her. Looking up, she saw Julie, the gym's resident fitness goddess, watching her intently from across the room.

Without missing a beat, Julie walked over to Tara, a reassuring smile on her face. "You're doing great, Tara," she said, her voice steady and confident. "I can see how hard you're working, and I just want to tell you that you're amazing just the way you are. But I also know how it feels to want more" Tara couldn't believe her ears. Julie, the woman who made everyone else look like failures by comparison, was actually being nice to her.

"More?" Tara asked, feeling a bit confused. "You mean... like more than this?" She gestured to her own body, feeling self-conscious under Julie's gaze.

Julie nodded. "Yes, more than just surviving a workout. I know how it feels to be intimidated by the gym, to feel like you'll never be as good as everyone else. I used to struggle here too, you know." She paused, her expression softening. "But I found something that changed me and made me into what I always wanted to be."

She reached into her gym bag and pulled out her phone. "I want to show you something," she said, handing it to Tara. "Take a look at these pictures." Tentatively, Tara flipped through the album, looking at the pictures of a heavier, older-looking Julie. She couldn't believe it was the same woman.

"I used to be overweight too," Julie explained, "and I tried everything to lose weight. I ate healthy, I worked out, I even joined support groups. But nothing seemed to work. Then, one day, I stumbled upon this new supplement called the ‘Transformation.' It was different from anything I had tried before."

She reached into her gym bag and pulled out a small bottle, handing it to Tara. "It's not a miracle cure or anything like that. It's just a natural supplement that helps your body burn fat more efficiently. I started taking it, and within a few weeks, I noticed a difference. My energy levels were up, and I was losing weight faster than ever before."

Tara looked at the bottle, skeptical. "But what about side effects?" she asked. "I've heard those supplements can be dangerous."

Julie smiled reassuringly. "I understand your concern," she said. "But I can promise you, this supplement is different. It's all-natural, and it's been tested extensively. I've been taking it for months now, and I haven't experienced any negative side effects. In fact, it's helped me more than anything else I've tried."

Tara studied Julie's face, searching for any signs of deception, but she couldn't find any. She felt a small spark of hope ignite within her. "Okay," she said slowly, "I'll try it. But if it doesn't work, I'm coming after you." They both laughed, and Julie clapped her on the back.

“Don’t worry you’ll come back… but to say thank you.” Julie said with a smile.

As Tara walked away, feeling a new sense of determination and hope, she couldn't help but notice the interaction between Julie and a man. A sexy bodybuilder, who was practically glowing with confidence, approached Julie and gave her a seductive wink. Julie smiled back, but her expression seemed to soften as she put a hand on the man’s arm. They began to talk in hushed tones, their bodies leaning in closer together.

It was then that Tara realized something: Julie wasn't just powerful in the gym. She was powerful in her relationships too. People gravitated towards her, wanted to be near her. They desired her, confided in her. And maybe, just maybe, that was the real key to transformation - not just physical strength, but confidence as well.

As she walked out of the gym, these thoughts swirling in her head, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She wanted to be like Julie, not just in the gym but in life. She wanted people to see her as she was and still want to be near her. She wanted to feel desired.

With renewed determination, she took the Transformation supplement, following the directions to the letter. But as the day went on, she found herself growing more and more impatient. She wanted results, and she wanted them now. So, when she got home, she decided to take twice the recommended dose.

As she finished putting her workout clothes on she began to feel sick to her stomach. The feeling of nausea quickly disappeared as she felt her body get warm. Tara began to worry that not following the directions would cost her dearly.

Tara gripped her stomach as she begun to hear it gurgle as her back muscles began to spasm involuntarily. She inhaled quickly as she felt the discomfort grow as her arms and thighs began contracting as well. Tara’s eyes widened as she looked at her fingers becoming thinner yet delicate.

She felt her chest tighten as she struggled to breath, the muscles in her back, arms, and thighs bulging out further as her abs tensed. Her vision began to blur as she felt her body growing hotter, the sweat pouring down her face, her back, her chest. Her breathing became more labored, her heart racing as the transformation continued to take hold.

Tara moved her gaze to her arms as they seemed to lengthen a bit and fill with power as her biceps grew. She could feel the same happening in her thighs and back as she felt the tightness of the straps to her sports bra. The contracting sensation subsided as Tara felt the urge to flex her new muscles. She flexed feeling her body fill with power, the feeling was intoxicating. Tara’s mind drifted to Julie and how that man was enthralled by her presence. She thought of having the same effect on everyone.

She moaned as her eyes fluttered as her body continued to fill her with new found pleasure. She began to feel her abs tighten as her fat had melted away. She smiled thinking the transformation was complete. She gasped when she felt a tingle in her chest as her average breasts tightened becoming gravity defying. Tara could already feel her confidence growing as the lion within her was being freed from the chains of circumstance.

“Hmm Yes!” She cried out with a voice that almost seemed foreign to her as it spoke with authority. She began to stand up straight feeling strong and powerful. Finally her butt tightened and raised as it became filled with muscle but also soft.

She walked over to her mirror and admired her reflection. Her skin was glowing, her eyes sparkled, and her hair shone. Her newfound curves were accentuated by the fitted workout gear she wore, making her feel sexy and confident. She flexed her biceps, admiring the definition and strength that had been bestowed upon her. Her stomach tightened as she pulled it in, revealing a set of six-pack abs that would put any fitness model to shame. Her thighs were thick and powerful, yet feminine, and her back arched perfectly, showcasing her V-shaped torso. Her cheeks lost the fat accentuating her cheekbones as she now looked like a stunning fitness model.

Tara could feel the weight of the world lift off her shoulders, and she knew that this transformation was only the beginning. As she walked through the gym, she caught the eyes of every man and woman she passed. They couldn't help but stare at her, admiring her new physique. She felt powerful, desired, and in control. It was as if she was walking on a cloud, floating above the mundane worries of life.

She made her way over to Julie, who was finishing up her workout on the treadmill. Tara approached her with confidence, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her new muscles flexing with every step. "Hey, Julie," she said, her voice low and seductive. "You're looking great today."

Julie glanced over at Tara, her eyes widening in surprise. "Tara? Is that you?" she asked, slowing the treadmill to a stop. Tara nodded, feeling a surge of power as she stood tall before her former friend. "Yeah, it's me. You were so right, it worked so well."

Julie stepped off the treadmill, her gaze traveling up and down Tara's body. Her expression was a mix of awe and glee. "Oh my god, Tara! You look amazing! I can't believe it! It worked so fast for you."

Tara smiled, feeling a surge of satisfaction course through her. "Yeah, it's incredible. I feel like a new woman. So strong, so confident." She gestured to her body, her biceps flexing slightly. "I feel like I could workout all day."

Julie beamed with pride, she whispered in Tara’s ear. "It makes you wet doesn’t it? Mark has been eyeing you this whole time. Go up to him and tell him you want a private workout. Trust me he will be totally worth it”

Tara bit her lip as she turned around and introduced herself to Mark. Julie watched like a proud teacher as Tara flirted with him. Especially when Tara got on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear. Mark’s smile disappeared as a serious look of lust washed over his face. He grabbed Tara’s hand as he walked to private washroom with purpose. Tara turned around to Julie and mouthed “thank you”

[docholligay]

BOY ARE YOU TWO ABOUT TO REGRET GIVING ME THE MILDEST POSSIBLE ENCOURAGEMENT.

I love Phil Ochs. He is easily my favorite of the protest folk/folk revival whatever you care to call that style and time in history. Bob Dylan is a better poet (but I mean, Jesus who can live up to Bob Dylan?) Joan Baez has a much better voice (A reviewer once said Phil had a 'nasally effective range of about half an octave' and given how many times he brought up/joked about it, i assume it stung), nearly everyone was easier to get along with, and yet with Phil Ochs it is love for me. I love the way he sings, it's simple and straightforward and sometimes plaintive in these ways that go beyond vocal theatrics. I like his patter, I like his humor, I like that he is willing to fight with Bob goddamn Dylan, I like the way he moves, i don't know. Fucking mess of a man. Love him. Do not get me started when i've had a few unless you're prepared to not get a word in edgewise for the next 20 minutes.

To the point, that a lot of the time I won't put anything of his on a mix album I make for someone! How stupid is that? I don't know, some things feel personal even thought they very decidedly are not. It's stupid. It's human. Whatever.

ANYWAY, SOME OF MY FAVORITE PHIL OCHS SONGS FOR THE UNINITIATED I THINK YOU SHOULD ALL LISTEN TO THEM. BUT I ONLY WANT TO KNOW IF YOU LIKE IT SO I THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN OTHER PEOPLE.

The Power and the Glory: When I said Phil Ochs, man with a huge fucking FBI file on him by the time he died at only 35, wrote my favorite patriotic song, this was it. Beeb even knows part of this song, because when I walk her to the Y, I sing to her part of the way, and this is on the playlist.

There But For Fortune: This actually became a minor hit for Joan Baez! (Adding to his frustration about his own life) It's a really beautiful song about not thinking you're above anything.

I Ain't Marchin Anymore: I included this because if you've heard a Phil Ochs song in an American History class or something like that, it's this one. I do like it! It had an immense effect and I would be wrong to exclude it. It's much more of a straightforward protest song than anything else on this list.

Outside a Small Circle of Friends: I think about this song all the time, a cheerful rag about indifference to the suffering of others. Don't put yourself out! Remember, you need to think about what makes you comfortable!

No More Songs: This song always makes me so sad. I love it, but it does. After this song, he would only ever record about 5 more tracks. He never had another album. He had massive writer's block, he was disillusioned by the way the world was going, he was an alcoholic, he was very clearly starting to lose it*. And seemed to realize he was losing his grip. I love this very sad country-folk song, and I think a lot about the line, 'Is anybody home? I only want to say, I'm sorry."

*and boy did he. As in, for awhile he assumed a new name and said that person had killed Phil and replaced him lost it. Ranting about the Cia and the Fbi trying to kill him lost it. Getting into intentional barfights with patrons over nothing lost it. I feel bad, because as much as a pain in the ass as he could be, reportedly, he also clearly had a lot of people who felt a lot of affection for him. His brother tried to have him committed. His sister wrangled him from off the streets to live with her. His friends tried to help and encourage to record. Even Bob fucking Dylan talked to him about doing a tour together, and when Phil put together a benefit concert that was in danger of being canceled for lack of ticket sales, Dylan was like, 'I'll play" and it sold out immediately. Lots of people tried really hard to pull him out of it. But it was just...he felt like a political, personal, and artistic failure, he was out of his goddamn tree, and it was one of those situations where I just want to be like, "You tried your best, everybody! I'll accept literally any emotion about this from any of you but guilt." I feel bad for everyone.

[gienn-ah]

I was not going to give more entity to this issue but it seems absurd to me that the fact of seeing a 26 year old boy doing with his life what he pleases is a reason for constant judgment and finger-pointing.

No artist should be hated or criticized for not living up to the expectations or idealizations that everyone creates in their minds ; JK grew up , he is a man who knows how to size up what is right and what is wrong and he doesn't need ANYONE to make him feel lesser for the choices he makes for his life. That said, I would like to point out to people who label Jungkook as a person who "sets a bad example" or "pushes people to smoke and harm their health" that not long ago a video of JK's encounter with a fan where the fan herself appeared to be smoking, to which Jungkook advised her to "not smoke", was made public. Jungkook NEVER pushed anything , Jungkook NEVER campaigned for any bad habit , he literally applied the "do as I say and not as I do" .

I can understand the position of many people where the issue of seeing a person smoking may stir up their own personal issues or that many of us are simply concerned about their health, their voice, etc but I insist that none of that gives us the right or the authority to judge the decisions and lives of others and much less take things to a place where every word they receive is difficult to bear. Neither Jungkook nor anyone else deserves that for the simple fact of LIVING his life as he wants to, with his successes or failures like everyone else because, I remind you, we are human.

🐰 — “ I'M A HUMAN TOO “

The images of him that appeared were taken WITHOUT HIS CONSENT, images that were taken in a context of his private life which he never wanted to show us and which was violated not only by the people who took and published the images but also by the infinite people (including Armys) who kept passing the images from hand to hand publishing them everywhere.

How quickly some people forget what Jungkook really is. That Jungkook who trusts us so much that he is not afraid to show himself as he is, that Jungkook who turns on Live whenever he can to hang out with Army, the Jungkook who lives by and for his fans, the Jungkook who always seeks comfort and acceptance in the words of his fans, the Jungkook who wrote and dedicated songs to us. It hurts me a lot to see how a simple action of his private life can cloud the judgment of many.

He gives us all his trust and this is how we thank him? What are we doing? Is this really the image of fans we want to give?

Once again I stress that we should not forget his own words in one of his not so distant Lives:

🐰 — " The Jungkook everyone loves , the one everyone loves...I will live to match that but there may be a Jungkook you don't know so you guys will say " oh, this is not the JK I know" but what can I do...I AM ME , I AM STILL ME".

Please more respect to Jungkook and any other artist. They should not have to match or exceed ANYONE'S expectations and that should not fall back on massive harassment.

For our part, let's give words of love and encouragement for these moments where Jungkook is in preparations for his album and needs us more than ever.

[collisiondiscourse]

Man, why does it feel like the threshold for success has a time limit? I always feel like if I'm not an insanely popular artist or powerful influencer by the time I turn eighteen, then I am an utter failure and a waste of my teenage years. I think one of the biggest pitfalls of how the generation of kids today has been raised is that we've basically been socialized to think that our best achievements have to come in our youth or else they become virtually worthless.

Like... Oh? you're a talented pianist and played in front of an auditorium of hundreds at an opera house? how old were you when that happened?

A forty-seven-year-old would be met with a few impressed nods, maybe, and people congratulating them for all their hard work and experience.

A fourteen-year-old would get news articles. they'd go viral on the internet and thousands of people would be clambering over each other to sing praises of how they were blessed with such innate talent.

I get it. It's impressive, right? Because they're young and haven't had plenty of years of experience. These kids, by all means, deserve all the praise and attention for working hard to get where they were!

But that's not the case, is it? And the culture of people putting more credit for young people's achievements doesn't even fuckin end there.

Because not only does this exact same pattern happen with literally every single thing ever, even totally non-competitive hobbies like painting, it happens with such frequency that it's considered normal. Articles use age markers about successes to serve as clickbait for their articles. Cable companies start shows purely about young prodigies and how they've beaten their adult competitors. Because who wouldn't wanna hear about a ten-year-old chess champion, right?

And what's even worse is that it then becomes a competition even among young people themselves! You scroll down on a video of a pre-teen playing Winter Wind and I promise you there will be at least one asshole saying shit like "This kid is not impressive. I saw a nine year old do the same thing the other day!"

It eats away at you! It really fucking does! because we go down this stupid rabbit-hole wherein younger and younger kids get paraded around and raised to be prodigies and meanwhile here you are, sixteen, and having a panic attack because you can't go back in time and force your eight-year-old self to keep playing the violin. It's stressful. It aches. Instead of bringing up younger people around us, we're stuck in this miserable zone where we constantly get compared and pitted against each other because we couldn't "maximize our childhood".

Isn't it enough to just... exist?

There have already been many conversations on the nature of college. How it's utter BS that people have to choose what career they want for the rest of their lives as early as junior year in HS. But what a lot of people don't talk about is just how early people are forced to decide what hobbies they want to do for the rest of their lives. People who start learning how to play an instrument at 28 can't do so without constantly being questioned why they started so late. A drawing with decent coloring garners more credit and attention for the average tween than the struggling middle-aged woman, despite both having an equal amount of experience with visual arts.

Parents constantly tell their children to study harder, to practice more--to just keep on work, work, working until their children become the perfect model dolls they use flex to one another over brunch. It's constantly having your name be followed up by your latest achievement and not anything about who you are as a person.

"This is Codi. She is a straight-A student and got invited to compete at Harvard."

"This is Codi. She is on her school's math team and knows how to play the piano."

"This is Codi. She is--"

I am a human being, thank you.

It's never "This is Codi, and he loves fashion and losing at video games." or "This is Codi, and he likes listening to annoying pop songs from the early 2010s and laying down in the rain."

Why? because none of that matters! None of that is worth listening to because anything less than what I can do to represent my family, my school, my team, my country will never be anything more than a waste of time. It's toxic, how today's generation of teenagers have to be celebrities or important figures or champions or prodigies before they are people.

It gets worse, though.

People start counting your talents like tally marks for points. You can't "just be an artist" anymore. If you draw, then you also have to be good at writing. And poetry. And graphic design. And a sport. Oh, you only know one language? Oh, you've only learned the basics of the guitar? It's like a fucking marker, ticking off boxes to determine the worth of these teenagers on the marketability of their achievements.

And, okay, it's a misrepresentation to only blame parents, right? Because it's a systematic thing. A new societal expectation for kids to be the next fucking Renaissance--with peer pressure for things like relationship experience and wild stories too. We kids now worry about not being special enough, not phenomenal enough, or beautiful enough, or talented enough, or smart enough, or experienced enough. And it's weird!

It's weird how teens now flex how tired and burnt out they are! It's weird how I've had conversations that turned into competitions of how many bullshit responsibilities we have on our plate. It's weird how I've met kids on the honor roll that are so adamant to prove to people that they've gone to parties, had alcohol, and slept around.

It's a goddamn tragedy, watching so many of my peers turning into burnouts before they've even graduated high school.

We are expected to be the most. If that one singer could do it, if that one global warming activist could do it, if that one Olympic athlete could do it--then why can't you? Why can't you have over 20.7k followers on Twitter? Why can't you have started your own band and release a popular album? Why can't you have published your own book by now? Why can't you be good enough?

I sit here, typing away at this stupid post and being unhappy and feeling like I am not good enough. I am an artist. I am a writer. I speak more than one language and play more than one instrument. I used to be a straight-A student and nationally competed in maths and sciences competitions. I am an international finalist for my sport and have multiple gold medals from foreign countries.

Yet still, I feel like my timer is running short.

[spade-riddles]

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes. 

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.  

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming. 

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable. 

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships. 

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night. 

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet. 

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case. 

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch. 

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first. 

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it. 

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised. 

Just my two cents. 

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

[lucienballard]

The Velvet Underground’s 30 greatest songs – ranked!

30. Ride Into the Sun (1969)The Velvets recorded two versions of Ride Into the Sun: a fabulous 1969 instrumental laden with fuzz guitar and a hushed 1970 vocal take backed by organ. Somewhere between the two lies one of their great lost songs; Lou Reed’s disappointingly flat 1972 solo version doesn’t do it justice at all.

29. Run Run Run (1967)For all the shock engendered by the lyrics of Heroin and I’m Waiting for My Man, the most malevolent-sounding track on the debut album might be Run Run Run, a powerful R&B groove lent a gripping darkness by Reed’s noisy guitar playing and the screw-you-I-take-drugs sneer of his vocals.

28. Beginning to See the Light (1969)The title suggests awakening, the melody is bright, but the lyrics are dark and bitter. They may have been directed at John Cale, who played on an initial version of the song, which was subsequently re-recorded after Reed sacked him, against the wishes of his bandmates. A ferocious 1969 live version amps up the tension.

27. Foggy Notion (1969)Reed was a lifelong doo-wop fan. His passion usually found its expression when the Velvet Underground recorded backing vocals for their ballads – as on Candy Says – but the tough, rocking Foggy Notion went a stage further, gleefully stealing a chunk of the Solitaires’ 1955 single Later for You Baby.

26. The Gift (1968)In which the band set a two-chord grind that may, or may not, have been based on their instrumental Booker T in one channel and a blackly comic Reed short story read by Cale in the other. “If you’re a mad fiend like we are, you’ll listen to them both together,” offered the producer, Tom Wilson.

25. Guess I’m Falling in Love (1967)Recorded at the White Light/White Heat sessions, but never completed, the April 1967 live recording of Guess I’m Falling in Love – taped at the Gymnasium in New York – will more than suffice. It boasts three chords, a distinct rhythm and blues influence, Reed in streetwise, so-what punk mode and explosive guitar solos somehow potentiated by the rough sound quality.

24. Temptation Inside Your Heart (1968)“It was not Mein Kampf – my struggle,” the guitarist Sterling Morrison once reflected of the Velvet Underground’s career. “It was fun.” A delightful late Cale-era outtake that inadvertently captured Morrison, Cale and Reed’s giggly backchat as they recorded the backing vocals, Temptation Inside Your Heart bears that assessment out.

23. New Age (1970)New Age comes in two varieties. Take your pick from the world-weary, small-hours rumination found on 1969: The Velvet Underground Live, or the more epic studio version that the Velvets biographer Victor Bockris suggested was “an attempt to present some encouraging statements to a confused audience as the 70s began”. Both are superb.

22. After Hours (1969)The Velvets’ eponymous 1969 album ends, improbably, with the drummer, Moe Tucker, singing a song that could have dated from the pre-rock era. The twist is that her childlike voice and the cute melody conceals an almost unbearably sad song, ostensibly a celebration of small-hours boozing, but filled with longing and regret.

21. I Can’t Stand It (1969)Amid the Velvets’ songs about drugs and drag queens lurked the plaintive sound of Reed pining for his college sweetheart, Shelley Albin, the subject of Pale Blue Eyes, I Found a Reason and I Can’t Stand It. The latter’s cocky strut is disrupted by a desperate lyrical plea: “If Shelley would just come back, it’d be all right.”

20. The Black Angel’s Death Song (1967)There is something folky and vaguely Dylan-esque at the heart of The Black Angel’s Death Song, but by the time Cale had finished with it – alternately strafing it with screeching, insistent viola and hissing into the microphone in lieu of a chorus – it sounded, and still sounds, unique.

19. I Found a Reason (1970)It is one of the ironies of the Velvet Underground that the most forward-thinking, groundbreaking band of their era could occasionally sound like old-fashioned rock’n’roll revivalists. Buried on side two of Loaded was one of the loveliest of Lou Reed’s loving homages to doo-wop, complete with spoken-word section.

18. Some Kinda Love (1969)Musically straightforward, sensual in tone, Some Kinda Love is a complex business, part seduction soundtrack, part refusal to be hemmed in by standard categories of sexuality – “no kinds of love are better than others … the possibilities are endless / and for me to miss one / would seem to be groundless”. Killer line: “Between thought and expression lies a lifetime.”

17. European Son (1967)European Son isn’t a song so much as an eruption. It sounds like a band overturning the established order of rock’n’roll, almost literally: after two brief verses, it bursts into thrilling frantic chaos with a verbatim crash, like the contents of an upended table hitting the floor.

16. Rock & Roll (1970)It is hard to see Loaded’s driving, joyous hymn to music’s redemptive power – “her life was saved by rock and roll” – as anything other than disguised autobiography on the part of Reed. The suggestion that music will endure “despite all the amputations”, meanwhile, seems to look forward to his departure from the Velvet Underground.

15. Candy Says (1969)No one else in 1969 was writing songs remotely like Candy Says, a stunning, tender pen portrait of the transgender Warhol superstar Candy Darling set to a gentle doo-wop inspired backing. Its melancholy seems to presage the note Darling wrote on her deathbed in 1974: “I had no desire for life left … I am just so bored by everything.”

14. Sunday Morning (1967)Sunday Morning was written at the behest of Wilson. He wanted a single that might conceivably get on the radio; he got a haunting, melancholy sigh of a song, its battered wistfulness and undercurrent of paranoia – “watch out, the world’s behind you” – the perfect encapsulation of morning-after regret.

13. What Goes On (1969)Morrison maintained that the studio incarnation of What Goes On wasn’t a patch on the live versions the band performed with Cale on organ. Maybe, but the studio incarnation featuring Cale’s replacement, Doug Yule, is great. It prickles with nervous energy, Reed’s guitar playing is amazing, its churning coda takes up half the song and it still feels too short.

12. Femme Fatale (1967)Apparently provoked by the damaged, doomed Warhol superstar Edie Sedgwick – with whom Cale had a brief affair – Femme Fatale is as beautiful and fragile as its inspiration. The story of a wary, ruined former suitor warning others off the titular anti-heroine is lent a chilly edge by Nico’s delivery.

11. I Heard Her Call My Name (1968)In the Velvets’ early days, Reed purported to be “the fastest guitarist alive”. A berserk claim, but his Ornette Coleman-inspired solos on I Heard Her Call My Name are some of the most extraordinary and viscerally exciting in rock history, frequently atonal, spiked with ear-splitting feedback and pregnant pauses.

10. Ocean (1969)The Velvet Underground recorded Ocean several times – one version is supposed to feature the return of Cale on organ – but never released it in their lifetime, which seems extraordinary. It is among the greatest of their later songs, its atmosphere beautiful, the epic ebb and flow of its sound completely immersive.

9. I’m Waiting for the Man (1967)An unvarnished lyrical depiction of scoring drugs tied to music on which Reed’s rock’n’roll smarts and Cale’s background in minimalist classical music – the pounding, one-chord piano part – meld in a kind of relentless perfection. Amusingly, there is now a pharmacy at the song’s fabled location of Lexington 125.

8. I’ll Be Your Mirror (1967)A song about Reed’s affair with Nico that could just as easily be about Andy Warhol’s approach to art, I’ll Be Your Mirror is one of those Velvet Underground tracks that makes their initial commercial failure seem baffling. How could a pop song as wonderful as this fail to attract attention? Nico and Morrison on stage at the New York Society for Clinical Psychiatry annual dinner in 1966.

7. White Light/White Heat (1968)A delirious paean to amphetamine, its subject reflected in the lyrics – “I surely do love to watch that stuff tip itself in” – and the turbulent, distorted rush of its sound. The band appear to be barely in control as it careers along; the chaotic finale, where Cale finally loses his grip on the bass line, is just fantastic.

6. Heroin (1967)Heroin was the deal-breaker at early Velvets gigs, provoking a “howl of bewilderment and outrage”. The shock of its subject matter has dulled with time, but its surges from folky lament to sonic riot still sound breathtaking. Oddly sweet moment: Reed’s chuckle as Tucker loses her place amid the maelstrom and suddenly stops playing.

5. Pale Blue Eyes (1969)“High energy does not necessarily mean fast,” Reed once argued. “High energy has to do with heart.” Hushed, limpidly beautiful and almost unbearably sad, Pale Blue Eyes’ depiction of a strained, adulterous relationship proves his point. In its own vulnerable way, it is as powerful as anything the Velvet Underground recorded.

4. Sweet Jane (1970)Sweet Jane started life as a ballad – see the versions recorded live at the Matrix in San Francisco in 1969 – but, sped and toughened up, it became as succinct and perfect a rock’n’roll song as has ever been written, based around one of the greatest riffs of all time.

3. Venus in Furs (1967)For a band who inspired so much other music, the Velvet Underground’s catalogue is remarkably rich with songs that still sound like nothing else; they were as inimitable as they were influential. Venus in Furs is a case in point: umpteen artists were galvanised by its dark, austere atmosphere; none succeeded in replicating it.

2. Sister Ray (1968)A monumental journey into hitherto-uncharted musical territory, where a primitive garage-rock riff meets Hubert Selby-inspired lyrics and improvisation that sounds like a psychological drama playing out between Reed and Cale, all at skull-splitting volume. Fifty-three years later, it is without peer for white-knuckle intensity.

1. All Tomorrow’s Parties (1967)Ninety per cent of the Velvet Underground’s oeuvre consists of no-further-questions classics. The astonishingly high standard of almost everything they did makes picking their “best” song a matter of personal preference, rather than qualitative judgment. So let’s go for Warhol’s favourite, on which the sour and sweet aspects of their debut album entwine faultlessly. The melody is exquisite; the music monolithic and unrelenting, powered by Cale’s hammering piano and Tucker’s stately drums; Nico’s performance perfectly inhabits the lyrics, which turn a depiction of a woman choosing what dress to wear into a meditation on emptiness and regret. It is original and utterly masterly: the Velvet Underground in a nutshell.

source

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Recommendation engines and "lean-back" media

In William Gibson’s 1992 novel “Idoru,” a media executive describes her company’s core audience:

“Best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It’s covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth…no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections.”

It’s an astonishingly great passage, not just for the image it evokes, but for how it captures the character of the speaker and her contempt for the people who made her fortune.

It’s also a beautiful distillation of the 1990s anxiety about TV’s role in a societal “dumbing down,” that had brewed for a long time, at least since the Nixon-JFK televised debates, whose outcome was widely attributed not to JFK’s ideas, but to Nixon’s terrible TV manner.

Neil Postman’s 1985 “Amusing Ourselves To Death” was a watershed here, comparing the soundbitey Reagan-Dukakis debates with the long, rhetorically complex Lincoln-Douglas debates of the previous century.

(Incidentally, when I finally experienced those debates for myself, courtesy of the 2009 BBC America audiobook, I was more surprised by Lincoln’s unequivocal, forceful repudiations of slavery abolition than by the rhetoric’s nuance)

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/01/20/lincoln-douglas-debate-audiobook-civics-history-and-rhetoric-lesson-in-16-hours/

“Media literacy” scholarship entered the spotlight, and its left flank — epitomized by Chomsky’s 1988 “Manufacturing Consent” — claimed that an increasingly oligarchic media industry was steering society, rather than reflecting it.

Thus, when the internet was demilitarized and the general public started trickling — and then rushing — to use it, there was a widespread hope that we might break free of the tyranny of concentrated, linear programming (in the sense of “what’s on,” and “what it does to you”).

Much of the excitement over Napster wasn’t about getting music for free — it was about the mix-tapification of all music, where your custom playlists would replace the linear album.

Likewise Tivo, whose ad-skipping was ultimately less important than the ability to watch the shows you liked, rather than the shows that were on.

Blogging, too: the promise was that a community of reader-writers could assemble a daily “newsfeed” that reflected their idiosyncratic interests across a variety of sources, surfacing ideas from other places and even other times.

The heady feeling of the time is hard to recall, honestly, but there was a thrill to getting up and reading the news that you chose, listening to a playlist you created, then watching a show you picked.

And while there were those who fretted about the “Daily Me” (what we later came to call the “filter bubble”) the truth was that this kind of active media creation/consumption ranged far more widely than the monopolistic media did.

The real “bubble” wasn’t choosing your own programming — it was everyone turning on their TV on Thursday nights to Friends, Seinfeld and The Simpsons.

The optimism of the era is best summarized in a taxonomy that grouped media into two categories: “lean back” (turn it on and passively consume it) and “lean forward” (steer your media consumption with a series of conscious decisions that explores a vast landscape).

Lean-forward media was intensely sociable: not just because of the distributed conversation that consisted of blog-reblog-reply, but also thanks to user reviews and fannish message-board analysis and recommendations.

I remember the thrill of being in a hotel room years after I’d left my hometown, using Napster to grab rare live recordings of a band I’d grown up seeing in clubs, and striking up a chat with the node’s proprietor that ranged fondly and widely over the shows we’d both seen.

But that sociability was markedly different from the “social” in social media. From the earliest days of Myspace and Facebook, it was clear that this was a sea-change, though it was hard to say exactly what was changing and how.

Around the time Rupert Murdoch bought Myspace, a close friend a blazing argument with a TV executive who insisted that the internet was just a passing fad: that the day would come when all these online kids grew up, got beaten down by work and just wanted to lean back.

To collapse on the sofa and consume media that someone else had programmed for them, anaesthetizing themselves with passive media that didn’t make them think too hard.

This guy was obviously wrong — the internet didn’t disappear — but he was also right about the resurgence of passive, linear media.

But this passive media wasn’t the “must-see TV�� of the 80s and 90s.

Rather, it was the passivity of the recommendation algorithm, which created a per-user linear media feed, coupled with mechanisms like “endless scroll” and “autoplay,” that incinerated any trace of an active role for the “consumer” (a very apt term here).

It took me a long time to figure out exactly what I disliked about algorithmic recommendation/autoplay, but I knew I hated it. The reason my 2008 novel LITTLE BROTHER doesn’t have any social media? Wishful thinking. I was hoping it would all die in a fire.

Today, active media is viewed with suspicion, considered synonymous with Qanon-addled boomers who flee Facebook for Parler so they can stan their favorite insurrectionists in peace, freed from the tyranny of the dread shadowban.

But I’m still on team active media. I would rather people actively choose their media diets, in a truly sociable mode of consumption and production, than leaning back and getting fed whatever is served up by the feed.

Today on Wired, Duke public policy scholar Philip M Napoli writes about lean forward and lean back in the context of Trump’s catastrophic failure to launch an independent blog, “From the Desk of Donald J Trump.”

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-trumps-failed-blog-proves-he-was-just-howling-into-the-void/

In a nutshell, Trump started a blog which he grandiosely characterized as a replacement for the social media monopolists who’d kicked him off their platforms. Within a month, he shut it down.

While Trump claimed the shut-down was all part of the plan, it’s painfully obvious that the real reason was that no one was visiting his website.

Now, there are many possible, non-exclusive explanations for this.

For starters, it was a very bad social media website. It lacked even rudimentary social tools. The Washington Post called it “a primitive one-way loudspeaker,” noting its lack of per-post comments, a decades old commonplace.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2021/05/21/trump-online-traffic-plunge/

Trump paid (or more likely, stiffed) a grifter crony to build the site for him, and it shows: the “Like” buttons didn’t do anything, the video-sharing buttons created links to nowhere, etc. From the Desk… was cursed at birth.

But Napoli’s argument is that even if Trump had built a good blog, it would have failed. Trump has a highly motivated cult of tens of millions of people — people who deliberately risked death to follow him, some even ingesting fish-tank cleaner and bleach at his urging.

The fact that these cult-members were willing to risk their lives, but not endure poor web design, says a lot about the nature of the Trump cult, and its relationship to passive media.

The Trump cult is a “push media” cult, simultaneously completely committed to Trump but unwilling to do much to follow him.

That’s the common thread between Fox News (and its successors like OANN) and MAGA Facebook.

And it echoes the despairing testimony of the children of Fox cultists, that their boomer parents consume endless linear TV, turning on Fox from the moment they arise and leaving it on until they fall asleep in front of it (also, reportedly, how Trump spent his presidency).

Napoli says that Trump’s success on monopoly social media platforms and his failure as a blogger reveals the role that algorithmically derived, per-user, endless scroll linear media played in the ascendancy of his views.

It makes me think of that TV exec and his prediction of the internet’s imminent disappearance (which, come to think of it, is not so far off from my own wishful thinking about social media’s disappearance in Little Brother).

He was absolutely right that this century has left so many of us exhausted, wanting nothing more than the numbness of lean-back, linear feeds.

But up against that is another phenomenon: the resurgence of active political movements.

After a 12-month period that saw widescale civil unrest, from last summer’s BLM uprising to the bizarre storming of the capital, you can’t really call this the golden age of passivity.

While Fox and OANN consumption might be the passive daily round of one of Idoru’s “vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organisms craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed,” that is in no way true of Qanon.

Qanon is an active pastime, a form of collaborative storytelling with all the mechanics of the Alternate Reality Games that the lean-forward media advocates who came out of the blogging era love so fiercely:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/06/no-vitiated-air/#other-hon

Meanwhile, the “clicktivism” that progressive cynics decried as useless performance a decade ago has become an active contact sport, welding together global movements from Occupy to BLM that use the digital to organize the highly physical.

That’s the paradox of lean-forward and lean-back: sometimes, the things you learn while leaning back make you lean forward — in fact, they might just get you off the couch altogether.

I think that Napoli is onto something. The fact that Trump’s cultists didn’t follow him to his crummy blog tells us that Trump was an effect, not a cause (something many of us suspected all along, as he’s clearly neither bright nor competent enough to inspire a movement).

But the fact that “cyberspace keeps everting” (to paraphrase “Spook Country,” another William Gibson novel) tells us that passive media consumption isn’t a guarantee of passivity in the rest of your life (and sometimes, it’s a guarantee of the opposite).

And it clarifies the role that social media plays in our discourse — not so much a “radicalizer” as a means to corral likeminded people together without them having to do much. Within those groups are those who are poised for action, or who can be moved to it.

The ease with which these people find one another doesn’t produce a deterministic outcome. Sometimes, the feed satisfies your urge for change (“clicktivism”). Sometimes, it fuels it (“radicalizing”).

Notwithstanding smug media execs, the digital realm equips us to “express our mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire” by doing much more than “changing the channels on a universal remote” — for better and for worse.

Image: Ian Burt (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/oddsock/267206444

CC BY: https://creativecommo

ns.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[blu-joons]

You’re Insecure As His Little Sister ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

You smiled as Jin showed you the new award to add to his collection that the boys had just won. “I hope I made you proud winning this tonight, I can’t believe we’ve got yet another award, isn’t it crazy?”

“Yeah, crazy,” you frowned.

“Everything alright?” Jin quickly asked as he noted your expression, “you don’t look that happy?”

“I am happy for you, but look how much you achieve,” you sighed, shaking your head, “I’ve never achieved anything like you have.”

He frowned, placing the award aside so you couldn’t see it. “You’ve achieved so much, what are you on about? Just because you don’t have a trophy, doesn’t mean you haven’t achieved.”

“Look at you though Jin, you win global awards, I can barely be the best at something on our street let alone all the people around the world.”

His heart broke as you spoke, “none of that matters, because I’ll always be proud of you. You’re amazing at being you, and that’s what is most important.”

“I just wish I could be better for you; I want you to be proud of your sister,” you admitted, watching as his head continued to shake.

“I’ll always be proud of you.”

Yoongi:

Your heart sunk as you read through the article written about your new project, unveiled as the project of Yoongi’s sibling. “Can you believe this? I’ll never be able to live up to your success, no matter how hard I try.”

“You don’t want to be me,” he noted.

“Everything I do is associated to you,” you frowned, closing your laptop, “this is my own thing.”

“I know it is, and the people that matter know this is your thing to,” he tried to reassure you, but your head shook, refusing to listen.

The project was what you’d worked hard towards for so long to stand on your own two feet. “I don’t know why I bother, because I’ll never be the sibling who can call themselves a success.”

“You’re a huge success,” Yoongi frowned, “I couldn’t do what you’ve done, and you can’t do what I do, that’s what makes the two of us so unique.”

You frowned, “then why when you do something, my name isn’t mentioned, but when I do something, your name is somehow always added to it.”

“I don’t know, but you just have to know that the people who love you are supporting you and will always be proud of you,” he whispered.

“I just wish everyone else could too.”

Hoseok:

His smile lit up as soon as you walked into the studio to visit him during your break from work. “This place must cost a fortune to run,” you commented as soon as you walked in and took a look around, “it’s so fancy.”

“A good job got me this,” he smiled.

“Explains why it’s a lot better than my office,” you frowned, taking his comment a little bit too close to heart.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Hobi sighed, instantly recognising that he’d upset you. “Your office is your place, and that’s what is important.”

Your head shook, taking a seat, “I knew what you meant Hobi, and it’s fine. I know that I’m the less successful sibling, you don’t need to pretend around me to make me feel better.”

“I’m not pretending, you know that I’m proud of you and I think you’ve done well for yourself,” he quickly assured you, “I just didn’t think with my words.”

You nodded as his hands rested against your shoulders, “I know what you’re saying, people will see me as the sibling who couldn’t quite make it like you.”

“You’ve made your own name, doing your own thing, please don’t think any differently than that,” Hobi begged of you.

“I know, but I’ll never be you.”

Namjoon:

The front door opened as Namjoon walked in, spotting your figure laid out on the sofas soon as he walked into the house. “Have you moved all day?” He laughed, nudging your legs to make room for him beside you.

“I went to the kitchen,” you replied.

“I can’t believe you got the day off work,” he teased, “I can’t remember the last time I had one of those.”

“Maybe I need to stop having days off so I could be a bit more like you,” you mumbled under your breath, watching his eyes widen.

He turned to face you, grabbing your hands, “why on earth would you say something like that? I have days off too, but why would you want to be anything like me when you’re your own person?”

“Because you’re so much more successful than I am, and maybe that’s the secret,” you complained, looking away from him, “I wish I could do what you do.”

His head shook, knowing how wrong you were. “My life is far from perfect, I have bad days and breakdowns just like everyone else, it’s not what you think.”

“I know your life isn’t perfect, but at least people want to know about your life,” you noted, “I always feel like I’m a bit of an outcast in our family.”

“You’re not, I promise you that isn’t the case.”

Jimin:

Your eyes read through the fan comment, glancing across at Jimin who absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. “Jimin,” you spoke, catching his attention, “do you think I use you too much as a brother?”

“Are you mad?” He yelled.

“No, but I just wondered,” you hummed, watching as he stood up and went to your laptop to see what you were reading.

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever read in my life,” Jimin quickly reassured you, “you don’t use me at all, and even if you did, you’re my sister.”

You nodded as he took your laptop away from you, “I just want to make sure that I am my own person, I don’t want people to be under the impression that I use you for the things that I do.”

“No one thinks that, I promise,” Jimin told you, sitting down beside you, “you’ve crafted your career and personality all on your own, I’ve never done anything to help you.”

You glanced across at him, “I always feel like I’ve not achieved what you have though, I don’t want people to just know me for you, or feel like I’m cheating you.”

“You’re my sister, if you wanted to use me to achieve something, you’re allowed. But I know that you would never do that because you’re you,” he smiled.

“That’s made me feel better, thank you.”

Taehyung:

The first time you watched the advert for the new album your heart broke, as much as you wanted to smile, you just simply couldn’t. “It’s good,” you smiled as Taehyung looked hopefully across at you to see your reaction.

“Is that it?” He queried.

“What you do is always good Tae, you shouldn’t be surprised,” you replied, “not like what I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He questioned, moving across to sit beside you, “I can tell something is on your mind, and it’s not just the video.”

Your head nodded as Taehyung encouraged you to look at him, “I just watch all the things you do and it makes me feel like I’m a failure, I feel like the sibling that just lets the family down.”

“That’s impossible for you to say that,” he groaned, “you don’t let anyone down at all, you’re successful at what you do and what you love, even if nobody knows your name for it.”

You sighed softly, “people know my name, but they know me as Taehyung’s sister, that’s all I’m known for really, people just want to talk to me about you instead of me.”

“You’re worrying too much,” Taehyung sympathised, holding onto your hand, “trust in your own abilities a bit more and know that people love you.”

“I will, and the video is good, I promise.”

Jungkook:

“It must be a really trouble for you to have one successful son, and a daughter who just doesn’t compare.” As soon as he heard the remark from your aunt, Jungkook noticed your face drop, excusing yourself from the table.

“Y/N, please wait” Jungkook called out.

“Leave me alone,” you sighed, making your way into your bedroom, “I don’t need your sympathy.”

“I’m not going to give you sympathy, I just want to be there for you,” he smiled, taking a seat beside you, “and also tell you that what she said isn’t true.”

Your head shook as her words replayed in your head, “I’m always the sibling that no one is proud of, the one that has let the family down, that will never change Jungkook, I’m used to it.”

“You’re crazy if you think people aren’t proud of you,” he assured you, resting his hand against your shoulder, “we’re proud of you for doing the things that you want to.”

Your head nodded lightly, “I wish that I could do more, when you show up everyone is so excited to see you, people barely have the time to talk to me.”

“That’s not true, you’re just worrying about one comment, I always disliked that auntie anyway,” he teased, squeezing you a little bit tighter.

“Maybe she’s right, who knows.”

---

Masterlist

[gretavanbitch]

Tangled up in blue- 2

warnings- drugs lol 

One month and six weeks prior- 

Keeping herself busy when Josh was gone was no easy task for Penny. She tried her hardest to focus on work, sitting in front of rows of developed film, feeling burned out. There was no good reason for this feeling, simply that she was lonely. Sighing, she thought of the only thing to relax her and calm her mind without Josh, weed. 

Her bare feet padded across the hardwood floors of their loft softly, overalls rustling slightly as she made her way to their bedroom. She walked to the brown cabinet next to her side of the bed and pulled out a small encrusted gold box. This box was opened probably too often when she was home without Josh, but also when he was there. She pulled out a filter, and papers. Then taking a bunch off the gram, she grinded it slowly, closing her eyes and wishing she was somewhere else. As her hands moved absentmindedly, she imagined what the boys were doing right now. They were probably on some tour bus or green room getting drunk, which sounds a lot more fun than getting high alone. She imagined Josh, sitting in some plush chair with some extravagant jumpsuit on, smiling and laughing with his friends, without her. She decided to shoot him a text, just some reassurance that he was still there. 

Penny: Hey babe, Jake try to murder you yet? 

Sent: 8:23pm 

She sat, licking the joint closed and waiting eagerly for a reply from Josh. After five minutes, she decided that she would put on a record and smoke, just to pass the time. Joni Mitchell’s Blue started to reverberate off the walls of the apartment, causing her to smile softly to herself. She remembered back to the first road trip she took with Josh, playing this album over and over again until they reached the other side of the country. His hair would run wild with the windows down, and a smile never left his face that week. Snapping back to reality, she brought the joint to her lips and lit her lighter, inhaling deeply and falling back into the couch. After the record had run through both sides, she felt like she needed to do something with her day other than smoke and miss Josh. 

Once again, the rows of film stood daunting before her. It was as if they were the royal guard for an impenetrable force in which her motivation was protected. With a hazy mind, she started flipping through the photographs of the recent week, smiling wider with each one. Your favorite was one that you took of Josh outside of a cabin in Washington. He stood away from the camera, but was smiling straight at it, teeth shining and bandana around his neck. That was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, the purest form of natural beauty. Nothing like anything, ever. She also chuckled to herself as she flipped to one of Sammy biting Josh’s hand, and Jake posed dramatically against a boulder.

She loved the way that the light reflected with the camera lens, and the way that it interacted with the subject. Just as she was about to write down a title for the series, her phone buzzed on the table next to her, lighting up with a notification from Josh. 

Josh: Hey mama, just got off stage, it went great. I wish you could've seen it. How did the film come out? 

P.S, Jake has tried to stab me sixteen times already. 

Sent: 12:34AM

Penny: It came out great, here see. 

Attachment: 3 images 

Sent 12:35AM 

Josh: Beautiful, my love. You have a gift for manipulating the light, it's amazing. Can we talk or are you too tired? 

Sent: 12:36AM 

The thought of talking to Josh without seeing his face and expressions change with each word, caused her chest to hurt with want. So instead, she clicked the Facetime button rather than call. 

Her phone vibrated for a few seconds, panging in her ear loudly. Yet within the blink of an eye, she was greeted with her favorite pair of brown eyes staring onto the screen in front of him. She smiled, and floofed her hair to make sure it didn’t look too trash. 

“Hey pretty lady,” he smiled at her. Josh was laying on his back on a bed, presumably on the tour bus. He was lacking in a shirt, but the beads that always decorated his neck hung down past his chest. His hand was stretched above his head, and the phone was angled up from his stomach. 

“Hey pretty boy,” she responded, positioning the phone in a more comfortable position on the couch, “watcha up to rockstar?” 

“you know the usual, living the life, but I really really really wish you were here, everybody does.” His eyes blinked slowly, showing signs of tiredness, but he would never reveal that to you right now, your time was too precious. 

“I do too, trust me its so fucking depressing here with just me and Marely,” she sighed, reffering to the tabby cat that her and Josh adopted together a few months ago. 

“aw how is she?” He asked, smiling into the phone. Penny moved the camera to her right, displaying the cat that was curled up by her hip. 

“She is great, but wishes she was living the rockstar life,” Josh chuckled to Penny’s response. 

“Okay but seriously Pen, can’t you just call sick for one week, say you got really bad food poisoning,” he pleaded. 

“If I say that, then I feel like I will accidentally manifest that I will actually get food poisoning for a week,” she laughed into the phone. 

“fair point, but it’s not the same without you here, I’m not the same without you here,” his tone shifted to a more serious one with every word, looking straight into her eyes through the screen. 

“I mean technically I’m on studio time right now, so they wouldn’t know if I came with you for a week or two...or they would fire me,” she scratched her chin, thinking out the possibilities in her head. 

“If they fire you, then just go freelance, they never fully understood your work anyways,” he smirked at her, knowing that she always complained about the company she was hired by, repeating their failures for understanding creativity. 

“Alright Kizka, you drive a hard bargain,” Penny smiled. 

“Is that a yes?” Josh’s eyes widened at the blonde girl through the screen. 

“it is not a no.” 

“fuck yes, so I can book you a plane ride to California for tomorrow?” He now got up from the bunk, excitedly running to his computer. 

“Mhm, just tell me what time.” 

“Ok here’s one, leaves Nashville at 8, gets in Cali at 10,” Josh said, calculating the time difference in his head. 

“you are such a bad influence, Kizka,” Penny rubbed her forehead tiredly. 

“I will see you tomorrow my love, get some sleep okay?” he smiled at her tired expression, kissing the camera of his phone sweetly. 

“see you tomorrow.” and with that she hung up the phone and exhaled loudly. What just happened? One conversation with Josh and she hits the road. It makes her think back to when she didn’t have anyone, and spent years alone in her little studio apartment, taking photos of walls and birds. Now she would drop everything with the snap of his fingers. In her heart she knew that her dependency on him for happiness was not right, but she was too deep in. Her head was stuck underwater, surrounded by the cool rush of his love. The flaws went unnoticed by both of them in fact, just simply mistaking it for head over heels infatuation. 

As her head hit the pillow, she thought that the emptiness of the room was less significant as it was a few hours ago. Maybe it was the excitement of the idea of not sleeping alone tomorrow, or just the few minutes of hearing his voice. Whatever it was lulled her softly to sleep. 

In a hazy dream, she remembered her and Josh’s first kiss. It was outside of their favorite bar after their second date. He stood next to her, shoulder pressed to hers, and hand interlacing with her own. He was wearing his usual attire, a white long sleeved shirt and tan pants. Yet he looked extravagant, his energy was inherently outgoing. As he says, the Kizka’s have a “flair for flair”. The cool wind seemed to push the pair together, jostling her hair softly as he looked over at her. His eyes were slightly hooded, closed just a slightly against the wind. Her glances fell down to his cupids bow, admiring its shape, then to his lips where she wished she never had to leave. He noticed the shift in her gaze and did the same himself, smirking at her. She smiled, tugging his chin towards her. His hands laced through her hair, smiling into the kiss. Their lips met, and they fit together like they were made for each other, and no one else. 

Her alarm forced her out of the wonderful image that played in her sleep, jutting her eyes open to the harsh sunlight of the morning. She quickly packed an old leather suitcase with a few pairs of jeans, shirts, and dresses, knowing that she would be stealing jewlery and sweatshirts from Josh. In what seemed like five minutes she was at her gate, coffee in hand, and camera stowed in her carry-on bag. She decided to text Josh that she was about to board the plane, knowing that he was probably still asleep. 

Penny: Hey, boarding now. I’ll text you when I land

sent 8:05am

She then put her earbuds in, deciding on listening to the new album, just so she was prepared to sing alone at the shows. It wasn’t like she hadn’t memorized it the night it came out, but she always felt bad listening to it with Josh, it just felt odd to her. The first song to come on shuffle was Light My Love, and she nearly cried remembering the fireside performance she witnessed a not too long ago. 

The plane ride went by in what felt like minutes. Her mind was racing with so many thoughts, most about getting in trouble with work, but others about Josh and how excited she was to see him and the rest of the band. The tires of the plane landed in California with a jaulting thud, and she was brought out of her dissociation. 

She knew that Josh expected her to uber to the venue, after all he was probably just waking up now. So she called an uber, standing outside of LAX clad in an old Janis Joplin shirt, flare jeans, and her classic high heeled leather boots. Penny looked straight out of the 70′s, but Josh felt like the 70′s, a pair who perfectly complimented each other. 

The uber ride was bumpy and seemingly and hour too long. She finally reached the venue at 11:46, hastily thanking the driver and sauntering to the tour bus parked behind the stage. She knocked a few times on the door, and after the third time, she finally heard a groggy “what do you want” 

She smiled, pushing the door open with her foot and walking up the stairs, she was met with a pool of long brown hair and a very naked Jake laying on one of the bunks. Josh was nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh hey Penny, what are you doing here?” Jake asked casually, ignoring the fact that he was naked. She was not phased by the latter twins actions, after all, she spent a fair amount of time with the band and often felt like she was equally as close with all of the members. 

“Just lookin for my loverboy, any idea where he is?” She answered, leaning against on of the seats camly. 

“I think I remember him saying he wanted to go hear the acoustics of the empty stage, so maybe he’s there,” Jake answered groggily. 

“thanks,” she said as she made her way, now at a faster speed then before towards the back entrance of the venue. The staff didn’t seem to bat an eye at her as she hastily walked hallway after hallway until she reached the back of the stage. Then she saw him, standing with his arms out wide, silently absorbing the feeling of the empty arena. 

“babe?” she said, accidentally making it sound like a hushed whisper. 

The curly headed man then turned his head over his shoulder, smiling. His smile widened nearly ten fold when he saw the girl to his left. She looked amazing, her hair seemingly always falling in just the right way, she paused for a moment, reaching for something in her bag. 

“don’t move, and look forward again, just like you were before,” She smiled and clicked the shutter of the camera, knowing it would be beautiful, every photo with Josh in it is. She then put the camera away and ran into his arms, collapsing into his embrace. He hugged her tightly, moving his hands up and down her back. 

“I missed you so much my love,” He said into her hair. 

“I missed you more lover,” she replied. 

Hey pretty people! I hoped you liked this chapter, I may or may not write another either tomorrow night or by sunday! Asks are open for Jake or Josh imagines BTW!

[twinrowcitizennews]

snapshot

Note from the editor:

This is the first letter of this nature that I’ve received from someone who wanted their question published. Other than editing for formatting and grammar, it’s in their own words and their own words alone. Please send an email or ask if you know how to solve their problem-- and quickly. 

I have to warn you, this letter isn’t for those who are put on edge easily. Reader discretion is advised. 

I don’t know if I’ll still be around by the time this is posted, but that doesn’t matter. So long as this reaches whoever might need it. 

I first saw it last October. The 27th, I think. Kind of cliché for this sort of thing to be happening right around Halloween, but truth is stranger than fiction. It was late in the evening, almost nighttime, when I saw this stray dog roaming around in my front yard. I grabbed my dog’s leash and went to get it, thinking I could keep it in my backyard until I could find the owners, but the second I left the front step, it started off towards the bike trail. I sped up to a jog and followed it, hoping not to scare it off any further. 

The bike trail veers away from the neighborhood and through this piece of undeveloped land that separates the suburbs from a nearby farm. The dog was mostly sticking to the path, moving along at a trot, stopping every once in a while to look over its shoulder and wag its tail, like it was waiting for me to catch up before starting off again. After a few minutes of this, I called for it-- tried to whistle, asked it to heel, etc. It came over when I pretended to have a treat in my hand, holding my fist out like there was something inside. When it leaned over to sniff, I clipped a leash on its collar, a simple fabric band without any tags or ID. I’d never seen the dog before, so I got out my phone and took a picture of it to post to the neighborhood Facebook page, asking if anyone knew its owner, before walking it back to my place and letting it out in the fenced back yard. After feeding my own dog, I sat down to check Facebook to see if there was any response. 

No one recognized the dog from the photo. One comment asked me who was standing in the background. 

There hadn’t been anyone else in the woods, as far as I remembered, but I double-checked the photo anyway. In the background, about 20 feet away, it looked like there was a figure-- vague, kind of person-shaped if you squinted-- standing just to the side of the bike path. It was all indistinct and fuzzy. Probably just a smudge on the lens. I responded to the comment before trying to clean off the lens on my shirt, then taking another photo down the hallway to see if the smudge was gone. There didn’t seem to be anything. The rest of the night was relatively normal. 

The next morning, I ended up trying to clear out my camera roll, to save some room for any pictures I might take of my baby cousins in their costumes. I deleted a bunch of screenshots, old photos, and the image of the dog, before going to delete the hallway picture. 

The smudge was still there. Like before, it was around 20 or so feet from where I’d been standing when I took the photo, around the size and height of a person. Unlike before, it was peering around the corner from the door to the bathroom. 

I was freaked out some, to be honest.  I scrubbed the lens down with a Lysol wipe and took another photo down the hallway, trying to prove to myself it was just some sort of shadow. Nothing that would show up in the daylight. And it didn’t-- nothing strange, no smudge, just a block of sunlight from the windows. I didn’t delete the picture from the night before, though. Just in case. 

It was a few more weeks before I took another nighttime photo. My cousins are too young to stay up late, so they’d been out trick-or-treating around 5:00 in the evening, back before it was even dark, so I didn’t really take anything on Halloween. The dog was returned to its owner a few days after, so nothing there, either. 

It was around the middle of November when I ended up catching it again. I was on a nighttime walk and passed the home of this older couple down the road who always put up their outdoor Christmas decorations about a month too early. I wanted to get a picture of the setup-- they had this new animatronic Santa, sitting on a throne and waving to the road. I can promise that no one else was in the yard. I used the flash (on accident, but still), and if someone was there, I would have seen them. When I got home, I sent the picture to a friend of mine for her to make fun of. She messaged back with a few laughing emojis before asking who took the photo.  

(ID: Two texts from my friend reading “lol” and “really who took it”. My response says “wdym?”. She responded with two texts saying “I see you in the background, genius” and “just vibing by the garage”. End ID.)

I checked the photo again. By the house’s garage, a little under 20 feet from where I’d been, was a clearer, more distinct figure. For once, I could make out its face. 

I don’t know who or what it is, or how it got there, but it definitely looked like me. It was even wearing my clothing, had its hair done the same way, everything. Just standing there and smiling for the photo, like someone just out of frame was telling it to say cheese, looking right into the camera. 

I immediately turned all the lights on that I could reach. I almost deleted the photo, staring at it for too long, before closing out of Photos and reopening my camera. I figured this had to be some weird hallucination or something I was making up, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. I aimed the camera down the hall and took a video. Nothing. I checked it, sliding the scrub bar back and forth to inspect each individual frame. All of them were just empty, illuminated hallway. That didn’t shake the feeling, though, so I turned the hall light off and tried again. Nothing showed up on this video, either. I took a photo. 

It was there. Again. It wasn’t peeking out from around anything, just standing in the middle of the hallway, the same distance it had been from the camera in the yard. 

I didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. 

I ended up searching the internet as much as I could for anyone with similar experiences. I saw things about ghosts, things about illusions, things about solid doppelgangers that people saw with their own eyes and not through pictures, but nothing like this. Over the weeks and months that followed, I took investigating into my own hands. 

My fears were quieted some-- some-- when, after the first few nights, I realized that it wasn’t hurting me. It never even moved, staying in the same poses each night. The only change was, no matter where I was, inside or outside, it was always the same distance away.

I started taking pictures almost obsessively. Every day, every night, I tried something new. I tried every condition I could think of to see when and where this thing would show up. It became a part of my routine-- almost a companion. I’d even jokingly wish it goodnight. 

I could put walls between myself and it. At one point, I stood inside my closet and took a picture, only showing racks of coats and clothes. It could be seen through windows, if there was no room for it to appear indoors. I could take pictures out my bedroom window to show it standing right there outside the window on the front walk. It always looked exactly like me, down to the smallest detail, except for the face. It never had any expression other than a smile. No matter where I was, inside or outside, it could be there. I got pictures of it at home, at work, out of town. It never showed up in well-lit photos. Things in the dark with flash were okay, but it would just be a little indistinct. Dimmer lighting, pictures taken at night, all of that was free game. I never got a picture of it in daylight. 

Around February, I sat down and tried to sort all the successful photos into one album to clear up my camera roll. At this point, it was mostly just pictures of the thing, since I was sometimes taking up to dozens a night. I deleted all the failures, saving all the pictures of it into one album. That’s when I noticed.

It was getting closer.

I guess I had ignored it over the first months. It had been too gradual for me to notice, only an inch or two each night, but looking at all the photos in order, it was obvious. Instead of being around 20 feet away, the thing was closer to 15, still just standing and smiling.

I had to tell myself it was coincidence, or something I was imagining, or I think I would’ve done something I’d regret later just then. Now that I knew it could move, I didn’t really think of it as a friend anymore. 

I kept taking pictures throughout the following months. Only at night. It stopped showing up outside my bedroom window-- in retrospect, probably because the ground wasn’t close enough for it anymore. It stopped lurking at the end of the hallway, drawing nearer until it was standing right there in the living room. It started putting its hands against the glass of the kitchen windows. Then it started showing up at the kitchen table. 

I got desperate, some. I tried everything. I burned incense, I tried to talk to it, I bought fucking crystals. I’m an atheist, but I even considered calling a priest or something. All spring, I was constantly scrambling to find some way to get that thing to leave, or at least stop moving. Every night I took more pictures, too many, before scrolling through my photo album with a looming sense of dread. Nothing worked. It kept coming, slowly, always dressed like me and always doing that smile. It got close enough that I could see the whites of its eyes. I almost wish I could say that there was something messed up about it, something that made it obviously inhuman or dead or anything, but there wasn’t. It was just me, just exactly like me, and somehow that was worse. 

I’m sending this in now because it’s really close and I don’t know how to make it go away or if that’s even an option anymore. These past few nights, it’s been right in front of me-- I could reach out and touch it, if it was solid. Hell, I could probably feel its breath, if it had that. I’ve been taking pictures every hour or so, sometimes every couple of minutes.

Last night, around the fifth or sixth picture I took, it wasn’t there. Just gone. I took a few more pictures, and it didn’t matter where I was, it just wasn’t there. I don’t know why I did it, but I turned the camera around to selfie mode and took a shot. 

That thing was standing right behind me.

One of its hands was hovering right over my shoulder, like it was about to touch me. I freaked out and took another picture. It hadn’t moved more than a hair. I turned all the lights on and haven’t slept. 

I’m not sleeping tonight. I’m not turning any of the lights off. It can’t get to me if the lights are on, or I hope so. If anyone knows what to do or what this thing is, please respond. It might already be too late, but I don’t know what this thing will do or who it’ll go for when it’s done with me. I don’t have much advice to give, other than to sleep with the fucking lights on.

[actualhumansunshine]

I agree with your tags? Some of the takes have been a bit over the top but on the other hand I feel upset about it too so I understand. I think he's about to lose a lot of his fanbase because I think Niall or his team haven't learned anything from 2019 and we're going back to the NTMY place when NH3 happens :/ And maybe that's the wakeup call he needs, I honestly am not sure.

well i mean, i wouldn't go that far at all??? yes, there's absolutely discontent within the fandom right now—that much is obvious—and i think there's a decent amount of that that's valid and earned. there HAVE been issues with his promo strategies lately, particularly in how much value is being put into telling people to buy or stream via social media vs more traditional promo strategies like interviews and performances.

my main issue with that, personally—others may have their own takes—is the fact that it nearly demands fans' mental, emotional, and physical labor by creating this expectation that the success or failure of a song/album is a burden all on their shoulders, rather than on the artist themselves or the teams of people behind the scenes that are literally paid to ensure the song/album reaches it's full potential. it's something i've talked about before, as far back as the time of ntmy, and i stand by the fact that while i understand mobilizing the core fanbase is becoming more and more of a common practice in the age of streaming, there's still some VERY toxic fandom culture that it plays into, whether intentionally or (more likely) not. that's something i personally want no part of in my fandom experience, so it just sucks to see him going back to that yet again, even if it DOES seem to be driven by anne marie and her team more than anything this time around.

but anyways, as far as the widespread frustration and exhaustion in the fandom goes, i think it's understandable when so much of the burden of success is being placed on the fanbase, especially when a) it seems like he and his team (/anne marie and her team since it seems to be her song, her label, her budget, etc) aren't pulling their weight or doing their fair share to get the song out to the general public via the more traditional promo strategies, thus only intensifying the burden on fans, and b) those urges to buy and stream are pretty much ALL we're getting from him period (other than golf stuff), ever since he chose to take a step back and lessen his overall engagement. and don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with him taking a step back, i don't blame him for it at all or want him change the boundaries he's created for himself or anything like that, but i DO think it's understandable that people would be Tired when it feels like he's coming online just long enough to do the bare minimum in order to sell something, then ghosting again yk? ESPECIALLY when, as i said before, it feels like he/his team isn't pulling their weight in these other areas either.

but that being said, i absolutely do NOT believe that a general ambivalence or frustration towards this song or his current strategies or whatever else means that he's going to lose a lot of his fanbase. you don't have to 100% agree with everything an artist does all the time in order to be a fan yk? people will voice their frustrations and they'll get over it, just like they've done many, MANY times before. sure, some might choose to take a step back or change the way they engage with him or with fandom, but at the end of the day, he'll be FINE. all any of us can really do is enjoy what content he DOES give us while hoping for the best going forward 🤷‍♀️

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 29

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: At Waystation, pt 2/?

A/N: I feel I should open up about my plans re: the Waystation chapters, just so you guys know what to expect. Originally this chapter was going to be a whole lot longer, but to make my job a little bit easier, I cut it in half. So, that's why a short chapter, but the good news is that I am already working on the next one's editing so it should be out some time next (the upcoming) week! Mostly just fluff in this and the next chapter but I am hoping to dig a bit deeper into especially Leo's background story soon enough. Don't expect any major drama yet though, we wanna see our ship happy together before that, don't we? ;)

Thanks again to everyone who has supported me, and BIG thanks to my lovely friend Cris for supporting me in many ways with this (and the upcoming) chapter!! I struggled with it quite a bit (as I had to rewrite a whole scene etc) but your ideas and cheering for me really helped!

Enjoy and don’t forget to leave a comment! :)

Words: 1,8k 

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

It was the morning after Leo and Calypso’s arrival at Waystation, the Christmas Eve, and Leo woke up feeling weirdly light. Not because he particularly loved Christmas; he and everyone in the Waystation family considered themselves atheists so they didn’t care about the religious aspects of that holiday. Besides, Leo himself had some very bad memories from his previous Christmases before his time at Waystation. But since Georgina was still young, the family wanted to keep up with the traditions that children enjoyed; lots of food (especially chocolate), decorations and of course gifts.

This year the family had decided that the gifts would be self made. Leo felt excited when he imagined how Georgina would react to the present he had made for her. It was a photo album, full of pictures of Georgina doing various activities with her family, friends and Festus. To make the album even more personal, though, Leo had decorated the cover by painting some animals Georgie loved on it and adding some stickers as well. He had also added a funny caption below each photo, explaining what was happening in them in his own style. Festus would be getting his favorite dog treats and Jo and Emmie some spicy pastries Leo had learned to bake, along with a promise to fix whatever machine happened to break next in their household. When it came to Calypso’s present, Leo would still need to fine tune a bit before the next morning, but he was hoping she would like it… He had spent a lot of time making it whenever Calypso was at the university or work.

Imagining everyone’s reactions to their gifts wasn’t the only thing that made Leo feel unusually happy that morning. After the previous evening’s dinner he had checked his email and the platform where the professors shared the grades and to his relief he had passed every exam he had participated in (excluding the earlier failure at the lab class). The calculus and physics exams had gone well, but the biology for engineers had been a bit harder for him and the mandatory English class he had passed just barely. Either way, he was finished with the semester and the test results made him feel more optimistic about the future of his studies. Even though he still had moments of strong self doubt, he tried to imagine Calypso’s face when he’d tell her that he had managed to pass the lab classes. That never ceased to make him feel better.

The additional free time also lifted Leo’s spirits. When he thought about it, he hadn’t really had all too many moments just for himself that fall, being constantly busy with either university, fixing other people’s machines, or trying to deny his growing feelings towards his flatmate. In a way the distraction had been welcome because it had given Leo less time to dwell on the things he tried very hard to not think about. But now that he had a few days to stop and do whatever he wanted, he realized he had needed it. It felt good to be somewhere where he could let his inner child out again for a moment, with the people he cared about.

Somehow, he was even feeling more hopeful about the state of Calypso and his relationship. The fact that Calypso had agreed to join him at Waystation was already a good sign, and Leo was hoping that seeing how great people everyone at Waystation was would help her gain more trust in him and the other people around her. He wasn’t lying when he said he was not afraid of her father or anything else that might bother her. He had already seen too much to be scared of something like that.

That topic however started getting too much to the thing that Leo Absolutely Did Not want to think about, so he was relieved when he heard some sounds from the hallway. It sounded like little Georgina had also woken up and was now causing chaos everywhere she went because she was so excited about all things Christmas.

“Georgie, could you be a bit quieter? It’s still way too early to be that loud. I swear, if we were at our flat, we could hear you all the way there,” Leo groaned as he peeked into the hallway to chastise his little sister. “If you don’t care about me, I bet Calypso wouldn’t appreciate it eith… Hey!”

Leo couldn’t finish his sentence because he was interrupted by a pillow in his face.

“What was that for?” Leo asked once the pillow had fallen on the floor. The little girl just laughed and picked the pillow up again.

“Brother, are you saying that you had already forgotten that pillow fight is our annual Christmas Eve tradition?”

Leo’s eyes widened when he realized that she was indeed right. He had been so engrossed in his own thoughts that he had momentarily forgotten that this was what they used to do every Christmas. Instead of admitting that he had forgotten it aloud, though, he quickly bounced back, getting his own own pillow from his bed.

“Nah, I was only bluffing you!” he exclaimed before throwing the pillow at her.

“Big mistake!” Georgie yelled. “Because now I have two pillows!”

She started chasing Leo around the hallway and soon the entire floor was in chaos when Festus joined the group, also wanting to participate in ‘catch the pillow’ and ending up ripping one of them, spreading the fillings everywhere in the room. Finally, the noise woke up Calypso as well. She came out of her room and frowned at the sight.

“What in Zeus’ name is happening here?”

“Who is Zeus?” Georgina wanted to know.

“Just our annual mandatory pillow fight.” Leo ignored Georgina’s question, grinning from under the one pillow that still remained undamaged. Georgina had to let Leo free, though, because Festus looked like he wanted to show that pillow as well who the boss was.

Calypso’s frown melted into a soft smile as the information sunk in.

“Your annual mandatory pillow fight? But who does all the cleaning afterwards?”

She approached Leo, taking a feather from his shoulder. Even though she barely touched him, he found himself flinching at the touch. Not because it wasn’t welcome - quite the opposite. The gentle swipe on the shoulder made him want to throw all the rules out of the window and do something he’d regret. But suddenly Leo was reminded that he was still wearing only his underwear and he was having a very difficult time trying to stay nonchalant when he replied:

“Sunshine, we won’t worry about that until the fight is over.” He wagged his finger.

“Oh, I see.” Leo swore he had never seen Calypso prettier than when a mischievous smile spread on her face. “Does that mean the loser has to clean the mess?”

“What makes you think… Hey, watch it, Georgie!” Leo yelped quickly. The girl had lowered the pillow to Festus’ face level and the dog had seen his opportunity when he had noticed that Georgina was too distracted by the conversation to be keeping the pillow out of his range. He snatched the pillow into his teeth and started running away before the others had a chance to stop him from ripping it.

“Festus, be a good boy,” Leo demanded but the dog wasn’t listening. “That’s my favorite pillow; I’d rather you tear one of your own teddy bears apart.”

Leo went to get one of Festus’ toys from the toy box and tried to trade with the dog, but still no success. Apparently the sight of Leo crouching in front of Festus holding the toy while the dog was chewing the pillow, ready to run whenever Leo got too close was too funny for Calypso who along with Georgina started laughing at him.

“Really, Sunshine? How about you come here if you have a better strategy,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“Okay,” Calypso accepted the challenge. She did otherwise the same thing as Leo but used a slightly gentler approach.

“Festus, I know that pillow is nice to chew on, especially because the smell reminds you of your favorite human, but we’d be very happy if you did not spread the feathers everywhere. You like this penguin, don’t you?” She showed him a toy she had picked. “Wouldn’t you like to try this instead?”

Leo’s mouth nearly dropped when the dog gave up on his ‘toy’ without even growling at Calypso, smugly taking the plushie into his mouth instead.

“I see how it is,” he said. “Just listening to the ladies, are you? Well, can’t blame you for that, amigo. These two are the bosses here.” He petted Festus briefly before turning around, realizing too late that it was too quiet in the room.

“What in the…”

The girls had disappeared from his view, but as he started looking for them from the possible hiding places, the pillow flew in his face again.

“So funny, you guys!” he growled.

“Sorry, Leo! I just couldn’t resist!” Calypso appeared from behind the sofa, still chuckling at his expression. “Georgina made me.”

“Thinking you can win the Unbeatable Pillow Master? I don’t think so,” Leo declared and started chasing the girls. Soon the trio (and Festus) were a laughing and panting pile on the floor after an intense battle, Leo’s favorite pillow torn now, but he couldn’t have minded less. As they laid there, Calypso’s shoulder was resting against his and she was not putting any effort into moving it away.

“Still unbeatable?” She sounded pretty amused despite being out of breath.

“It was two against one!” Leo exclaimed. “Besides, you have to clean too because you’re a rookie. It’s a new rule.”

“A rule you just came up with.”

“Maybe, but you don’t wanna see what Jo and Emmie would say if they saw this mess. They may be nice people but if there’s something they hate… it’s pillow fillings all over the floor and furniture.”

“Alright… I believe you.”

Georgina took Festus outside while Leo and Calypso started cleaning the hallway, working together effortlessly as they had many times before at their flat. They kept casting shy glances at each other from time to time, and eventually Leo asked:

“Did you have fun? I mean, with the pillow fight?”

“Hated it.” Calypso stuck his tongue out at him, but then added pretty quickly: “The truth is, I don’t think I’ve done anything like this before… Not even when my sister was around. So it’s nice. Different.”

“That’s… that’s good then.” Leo nodded, then continued in more of his usual style: “Valdez & Co, always ready to give people new experiences!”

“Uhhuh, please don’t make that your new slogan,” Calypso snorted. “I did have fun, though.”

The light feeling from earlier that morning returned to Leo. “And you still have plenty of Waystation secrets to unlock so I predict it’s gonna be even more fun!”

[mysingularitybts]

Glances a Jung Hoseok One-Shot

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x famous!reader

Genre: romance, 

Warnings: none 

Here I was at another big fancy event. Don't get me wrong it was an amazing opportunity and it showed how far I had come in my career. I was honored to be invited to the Variety Hitmakers Brunch, yet I detested how snotty everyone here was.

All award shows of sorts were always the same thing, people bragging about what they won. It seems they forget the reason we are here is to celebrate the music that has the power to change many people's lives. Even the dirtiest songs have the power to help a person. Music can lift people's moods, give them closure, become their relationship songs, give warmth to a romantic moment. Music is always in our lives one way or another making every moment better. It's why it's so crucial in moviemaking. It sets the mood and without it, everything would be much less anticlimactic and boring.

Back to the point at hand, it's not so much the artists who I frown upon, it's the people behind them. Managers and CEO's, they suck the life out of events treating it like a business (which it is for them). Their greedy eyes looking for the next collaboration, for the next hit. They whisper in your ears making you think it's your idea, but it's not. It's all part of their master plan to make more money, to make you do most of the work. Having barely any regard for your health or wants or needs.

I don't want to say it's like I describe all the time because it's not, but a lot of them are like that. I'm one of the lucky few who got a good team behind them. It was no easy task though I failed many times and people failed me, somehow, I managed to get through it. I had my family and friends to pick me up every time I fell and made a mistake. Eventually, I found my amazing manager Carly and she led me to my amazing record label.

It's been five years since I've been in the music industry officially. It all started when I was 16 and had a dream of becoming a successful singer. How naïve I was thinking it was just going to be me signing to my heart's content. HA! It was eventually, but first I had to learn to produce, to practice singing, and to practice dancing. I had to face failure every time my CEO said she didn't like my new song or theme. Having to start over again to come out with something that satisfied her. After finally coming out with an album I loved with all my heart and it being a success I also had to face a lot of hatred and as a 17-year-old girl, it hits you hard. Other than the hatred I also had to manage my personal life and learn to adapt to a new way of life.

It's all in the past now. I learned how to ignore the hate to my best ability. I learned to focus on the fans that loved my work. To hear them out and become even better. There were a lot of things that happened in between, but I like to think they don't matter anymore as long as I learned my lesson. Although my dream to become a singer was very different from what I imagined, I didn't regret it one bit. It led me to where I was right now receiving an award for artist of the year at the Vanity Hitmakers Brunch.

Walking around with Carly leading the way I saw a lot of my colleagues and friends. Depending on what they were doing whether that was being interviewed or simply talking amongst each other I'd wave hello or stop and talk to them. These award things could be reunions between friends since it was hard at times to meet up with everybody since we were all on tour or filming or in different parts of the globe. It was one of the reasons I still came to these events the other reason being the fans. I owed them my success so if seeing me in an award show made them happy then I would go. I would also fangirl over other artists. Can you blame me? I'm only a human that likes listening to people's music.

As I walked around, I saw Billie Eilish, an amazing artist I collaborated with a few months ago. I liked her since she also saw the truth behind this industry, we had an understanding about it and that made us bond. I could only wave since she was in a conversation with one of the organizers of the awards.

As I kept walking and looking around my eyes landed on seven gorgeous men. My jaw dropped not only because of their beauty but because of who they were. It was none other than BTS. My heart raced; I have been a fan of their music since practically the beginning. How did I not know they were going to be here? I've always wanted to meet them, but we never coincided on any past award shows because for some reason every time they went, I had something else going on. I hated myself for it.

With sweaty palms, I debated on going over to them. I mean they were probably busy talking to somebody else yet nobody was approaching them. They even seem bored. Why was that? They were an amazing band that everybody wanted to collaborate with or be seen with. It just didn't make sense. Maybe it was the language barrier? It could be since not many American artists knew Korean.

With that thought in mind, I hung my head in defeat since I didn't know Korean either. Disappointed I turned around to leave when I almost slapped myself across the face in realization. One of them knows English surely with his help you could get the point across that you were a huge fan and not only that, but this dumb bitch also knows Korean.

How could I forget I know a whole other language is beyond me, but it happened. Thank you Nari for teaching me. Nari is my best friend we have known each other since preschool and are still very close. Her parents moved to the United States from Korea when she was still just a baby.

While I was in school my parents often were not around much so the Seong family took care of me until they got off work. Thus, I learned the Korean language and a bit of its culture. Plus, I gained a whole other family who I love very much.

Shaking my thoughts away I began walking over to them. My hands trembling in excitement, my inner fangirl begging to come out. I kept her locked up though because I did not want to make a fool out of myself. As I got closer, I saw Jimin look my way from his spot on one of the sofas that were around the tents.

When I got to where they were, they all stopped talking between themselves and looked up at me. Eyes wide not knowing what to expect.

With a gulp, I bowed and with a trembling voice said in Korean, "Hello, my name is y/n and I am a huge fan of your work." I crossed my fingers hoping my Korean didn't fail me.

With anxiousness, I waited for their response. Suddenly it vanished as Jungkook smiled up at me, stood up and shook my hand.

"Hello y/n, I'm Jeon Jungkook I'm glad you enjoy our work." He said smiling brightly at me.

I almost fainted seeing as 1/7 of BTS was standing in front of me shaking my hand. I was never going to wash my hand again. Gathering my wits, I kept on smiling as the introductions kept going around.

Once all introductions were done, which I think weren't necessary, they made a space for me to sit with them.

"I got to say I didn't expect anybody here to speak our language," Yoongi said from his seat as he looked at me.

"Oh, I only know because of my best friend. She's also Korean and taught me everything I know," I explained, "If I say anything wrong, blame her," I finished joking.

"No, you are doing very well, your friend did a good job," Hoseok said from his spot beside me.

"I have to say I am also a big fan of your music," he then said abashedly.

"Really?!" I said surprised not expecting them to know much about my music.

"Yeah, he has followed your music for about two years now," Taehyung exclaimed as he shot Hoseok a teasing smile.

"He even has a collection of your albums," Jin blurted out trying to get the point across.

"Yah, stop it you are embarrassing me," Hoseok told them, trying to play it cool and hide his blushing face.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It makes me so happy that you enjoy my music!" I honestly said holding my hands close to my heart.

It was one thing to meet your idols but for them to also know your music is another level. I felt proud of myself since I looked up to them and their work.

We sat in the middle of the tent talking to our heart's content for a while. I was glad I had the guts to talk to them seeing as they no longer looked so serious or bored. I guess they were just a little lonely and wanted some company. Talking to them felt easy. I thought it would be a bit more awkward, but I was proven wrong. They knew how to hold a conversation. We talked about everything from their upcoming music to my music, to the places we've traveled, and about the awards in itself. There was never a boring moment; they made everything entertaining or interesting.

It was when we were laughing loudly about something Jimin said that my manager came to tell me it was time to go find our seats since the ceremony would begin shortly. With a disappointed sigh, I went to stand up and say goodbye to BTS.

"Well, guys I guess this is goodbye," I started saying sadly, "It was great meeting you, I hope I get to see you again."

"I hope so too," Taehyung said enthusiastically, "I had a lot of fun talking to you."

I looked at them as I bid my farewells. When I got to Hoseok he looked as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn't bring himself to.  Yoongi, noticing his reaction, took matters into his own hands.

"Hey y/n, how about we take a picture to remember this day?" he asked, offering a smile.

"Let's do it!" I responded.

They all stood up and got into position. It was Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, me, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jin. I felt as Namjoon wrapped an arm around my shoulders and Hoseok partially wrapped his arm around my waist not quite touching me. Something strange happened to me as I felt very aware of his body heat, touch, and the smell of his cologne.

Once the pictures were taken, I felt disappointed as he stepped away from me. Disregarding those thoughts, I shook my head and bid them goodbye once again. I couldn't believe I had met BTS wait until I told Nari. She is going to freak out and ask me all kinds of questions. I would be able to fangirl with her, but until then I'd have to hold it in.

The awards went, as usual, I cheered on my fellow friends and colleagues, yet I cheered a little louder for my new friends BTS, they truly deserved the award. As someone who has seen them from the beginning, I could say they worked very hard to get to where they are now and had been through some tough times. Not only did they manage to become successful in Korea, but they also paved the way for many Korean artists to get recognized in the United States.

Once the awards ended and all the photoshoots and speeches were done, I found myself walking to the back entrance of the building to get to the SUV waiting for me. My feet were killing me making my back hurt, the makeup on my face felt uncomfortable, and not to mention the dress I was wearing got scratchier the more I had it on.

Deep into my thoughts, I didn't hear a voice calling out to me until Carly nudged her elbow into my side. I looked at her questioningly and she pointed over to the man walking over to me his dimpled smile being a welcoming sight.

"Oh, sorry Namjoon I didn't hear you, what's up?" I spoke as I stopped walking waiting for him to catch up.

"Don't worry, it happens to all of us, I wanted to ask if you were going to the after-party?" he asked as he tilted his head in question. It was a cute sight not going to lie.

"No, I'm not a big fan of after-parties they get too wild," I explained.

"In that case, would you like to meet up with us in a few hours after we get out of here?" he eagerly asked "We are not big fans either of American after-parties. They get awkward for us because of the language barrier," he finished saying.

"I understand," I told him reassuringly, "Count me in."

"We'll stay at our hotel and celebrate there. I'll send you the address," he stated, giving me a smile, his eyes closing at the same time.

"I'll see you there!"

"One more thing!" He exclaimed, "Come in comfortable clothes it'll just be us hanging out, no need for fancy clothing," he then finished explaining seeing my confused face.

"Even better, this dress has been getting more uncomfortable the more I wear it," I said relieved that I wouldn't have to dress up again.

It was fun dressing up, but it got uncomfortable quickly.

"See you later?" Namjoon asked one more time as he started walking away.

"Definitely," I replied as I waved him goodbye.

As soon as I got to my apartment, I took a quick shower and changed into a pair of high waisted leggings and a cropped hoodie. I didn't do much with my makeup, just applied some tinted moisturizer, did my eyebrows, applied some mascara, and some lip balm. Trust me compared to what I was wearing earlier this was nothing. As I got ready Namjoon sent me a text with the address of the hotel and what time I should get there. Luckily the hotel wasn't that far, and I had about an hour to spare. So, I did the only reasonable thing. I took a nap. After my nap, I realized it was time to go.

When I arrived at the hotel, I quickly made my way up to the room Namjoon told me about. As I got closer to the door, I heard a lot of loud voices, yup, I was definitely in the right place.

I knocked on the door and waited for somebody to open it. I didn't have to wait long when Hoseok confusedly opened the door.

"Y/n?" he asked surprised.

"Yeah? Hi Hoseok," I greeted smiling up at him.

"I didn't know you were coming," he confessed, still looking confused.

"Oh, I invited her," Namjoon began saying, "I guess I forgot to tell you, Sorry Hobi."

"Yah Hoseok let her in already," Jin yelled from his place on the sofa.

Hurriedly Hoseok got out of the way and gestured me in. I walked inside and noticed they were all dressed comfortably too in Jeans and their signature Hoodies. As I looked around somebody ran up to me and engulfed me in a hug. When they stepped back, I realized it was Taehyung.

"Hi, Taehyung!" I greeted him.

"Y/n I'm so glad you're here!" he said excitedly, "I was getting bored with these people around." He then said seriously.

I started laughing when I heard a hurt "Hey!" from Jimin.

Unbeknownst to me, Taehyung was sending Hoseok a teasing smile as he glared at him not liking the proximity between us.

"What were you guys up to?" I asked curiously.

"Nothing much we were going to start a live soon," Jungkook answers as he set up a tripod in front of the sofa.

"Oh! In that case let me know so I can scooch over a corner while you talk to army," I told them kindly.

"Nonsense you get to be with us in the live," Jimin said from his place on the dining table the hotel offered.

"Are you sure?" I questioned with uncertainty, "I know you guys don't usually have guests in your lives."

BTS usually didn't do lives with other people. They did them mainly amongst themselves. I didn't know how army would take it if they had somebody else with them, especially a girl. They would certainly have something to say about it.

"We're sure. Don't worry, it'll be fun!" Hoseok said from behind me as he patted my shoulder.

As soon as the setup was done we all gathered around the sofa. Jungkook, Jimin, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi sat on the L shaped sofa while Taehyung, Hoseok, and I sat on the floor leaving me in between them.

Surprisingly the live went very smoothly and it was a lot of fun. I didn't see many hate comments just questioning ones as to why I was there. The guys introduced me as their new friend and as we went along the live there were opportunities for me to get to know them a bit better.

While I sat there, I felt as Hoseok's leg pressed against mine, making me feel flustered. Warmth spread through me the more the live went on. At some point he whispered something in my ear in a low voice that made me lose focus on what was happening around me. He was doing things to me I couldn't explain. I wonder if he also felt the same things I did. Towards the end of the live I couldn't focus anymore. The strange thing was that Taehyungs leg was also very close to mine and he even had his arm around me for some time, yet that did not bother me in any way.

When the live ended my thoughts were interrupted by Jimin giving out a yell as he opened a bottle of champagne. Deciding not to think of my bodies reaction to the rapper beside me I shook my head and accepted the glass Namjoon offered me.

I was glad I came to what I now call the BTS afterparty. The guys were amazing and came up with the weirdest games.

Throughout the night I couldn't help but sneak glances at Hoseok. My eyes always wondered to him without my consent and whenever he spoke my attention would instantly be on him. At one point when I turned to look at him, he was already staring at me very intensely. I tried to hold eye contact, his eyes were very dark and alluring causing me to get lost in them, feeling as if I had fallen into a dark abyss. There was so much emotion in his gaze, I got overwhelmed and looked away. I felt as a blush crept up my cheeks and as I looked back up again, he gave me a smirk.

Wasn't Hoseok supposed to be the sunshine of the group? This wasn't sunshine, sure it was fiery but it was also sinful and flirty and dark.

After a while and I decided I had enough to drink so I got up to leave. I wasn't drunk or tipsy but if I kept drinking, I would get there. I bid my farewells promising to see them again soon and left the room. As the doors to the elevator started to close a hand stopped them and a man came in.

Looking up at him I confusedly asked, "Hoseok?"

"Y/n wait," he said rushed.

"What is it?" I asked nervously.

It was only the two of us in the elevator and as I recalled all the glances and grins he gave me back in the room, I started growing nervous. I stuck my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie to try and hide their trembling.

He got very close to me, our chests almost touching. He leaned his face down towards mine. I felt his hands graze my cheeks with his breath mixing with mine. He got closer, his lips brushing on mine until he pulled away. I hadn't realized I had closed my eyes but as he grew the distance between us, I opened them in confusion, disappointment reflecting in them. I was breathless even though the kiss didn't happen and as I looked at him, he was the same way.

Hoseok still had his hands on my face and I felt as he grazed his thumb on my lips. For some reason, he also had a disappointed look on his face. I wonder why, he could have kissed me if he wanted, plus,  he was the one in control of the whole situation. He could have done anything and I wouldn't have protested.

"Let me take you out on a date first," he said, answering my silent question.

I could only nod but that was not enough for him.

He got closer again but this time it was to whisper in my ear, "I need to hear you say it."

His voice was low and raspy. I couldn't stop the goosebumps from arising on my skin.

"Y-Yes, I'd, um, love to go on a date with you," I felt like a schoolgirl as I stuttered.

I jumped as I felt the elevator ding signaling it had arrived at its destination. Somehow without me noticing he had stepped away taking his warmth with him and leaving me cold.

"I'll see you soon for our date, y/n," he then said cheerfully, his attitude changing completely from before.

"Bye Hoseok," I said perplexed at the sudden change.

I walked away from the elevator but turned to look back. There he was staring at me again as the door closed and just before they did, he sent me a wink as a seductive smile made its way to his lips.

A/N: I don't think I've ever written anything like this. So, if you guys enjoyed it please let me know and make sure to like and reblog to show your support.

Im still shocked at what I wrote. It honestly started as an innocent idea but towards the end something like happened. It's not smutty but like I tried to write a tension between them.

Did you feel it? Did it need more?

Please let me know!

See you guys later ;) 💜 x

-Nikki Marie

[montosmadman]

I was tagged by @soy-celeste ages ago. This was hard but also super rewarding because I really got to take a deep dive in the murky depths of my own music library. Thanks for thinking of me, Cata💕

Task: choose TEN SONGS that describe your personal aesthetic / how you see yourself. Bonus points if you write a little explanation for each song, that‘s not a must though.

List under a read more because it turned out really long and includes some very personal and possibly triggering mental health stuff.

I'm tagging @capitanogiorgio @hendos @furiousflamewolf @checoswin and @diegoalvesisgod

1. Nakashima Mika - 僕が死のうと思ったのは

The title loosely translates to "The reason I thought I'd die" or "The time I thought I'd die". Yes, I went there right off the bat.

Let's get something straight: I'm not suicidal. I have never been actively suicidal, despite struggling with depression and anxiety most of my teenage/adult life. However, what this song captures for me is the feeling when you're not actively thinking about killing yourself, but you do have this empty feeling when you think there's no point for you being alive. And that's something I'm very familiar with.

There are a couple lines I wanna highlight, even though the whole song hits me very hard whenever I listen to it:

その木漏れ日でうたた寝したら、虫の死骸と土になれるかな

If I lie down beneath the sunlight streaming through the trees, will I become like the dirt and insect remains?

あなたのような人が生きてる世界に少し期待するよ

If people like you are living in this world, then maybe it’s alright to hope a little too.

The first line does what I talked about to above: it's the feeling when you just lie down and wonder if anything would change if you just disappeared. The second line -- last one of the song -- has more hope. It's when you find a reason to believe in the future and realize there is still a reason to live. Personally, I'm trying to hang very hard on that last thought even when the world seems to be against me.

(Full translation in a pinned comment under the Youtube video)

2. The Ark - Little Dysfunk You

No essay here. I just needed to have The Ark on the list because they're the official soundtrack of my life, the first band whose album I bought myself, and who taught me it was okay not to fit in. I even have a tattoo that says "a little dysfunk" because my best friend and I have been relating to this song long before either one of us realized we weren't neurotypical. It's the very dysfunctional ode to our friendship, and I love it.

3. Elton John - Rocket Man

I feel like this might be a universal experience growing up neurodiverse and/or an outsider. You spend years feeling like you're alone in space, on another planet, and you want to connect with people but at the same time know that once you come back, you still won't be the person others want or expect you to be. The challenge is to accept that and realize it's okay and you don't need to change yourself for others. And it really is hard when you're raised in a society where the odds are stacked against you.

4. Sanni - Jos mä oon oikee

Look, I'm giving you something in Finnish too!

Sanni is one of the Finnish artists whose breakthrough I originally missed because I was living abroad. I only properly discovered her a couple years after moving back, when I was driving a lot for my work and hence listening to the radio much more than I used to. Her songs just kept standing out from the rest: her lyrics had this amazing depth even when she was singing about mundane stuff -- like, she was finding these painful truths I hadn't ever spoken but felt very clearly.

That said, I had to choose the one song that's actually very upfront with this idea of being an outsider and not feeling like a part of this world. The title translates to "If I am real" and that pretty much sums it up. It's a song about feeling lonely in the middle of a crowded room, feeling like no one sees you or cares what you do. I personally have this habit of taking a step back and observing people rather than getting involved -- and even when I do, it rarely feels like it's really me out there, because I'm so used to masking and acting like everyone else just to fit in, you know?

I'll finish this off with my favourite verse, translated by yours truly. The last line especially hits home super hard no matter how many times I hear it.

Rautatieasema maanantaina ruuhkaisa Kaikilla tuntuu olevan kiire ja suunta Mä oon ulkopuolella vaik seison sisällä Jos oon jo kotona miten voi olla koti-ikävä

The railway station on Monday is crowded Everyone seems to be in a rush and have a direction I'm outside even though I'm standing inside How can I feel homesick when I'm already home

5. Shobha - Last Exit To Freedom

Full disclosure: Degrassi has been one of my comfort series for many, many years. When this song was first introduced in Next Class, it hit me really hard because it was woven into this whole storyline about depression and suicide, which at the time spoke to me a lot. I repeat, I have never been suicidal, but I do get the headspace that could drive people into it.

However, listening to it again now, it's mostly the message of hope that shines through to me. It's a song that can take two very different readings depending on what your own baggage is. And the series actually acknowledges that later on, which I think is not only beautiful but also extremely important.

There's empty places in my life and I need to breathe There's empty spaces on the map waiting there for me

I've never felt more free than when I actually drop my responsibilities and just go where I want to go. I need that space to breathe, and that's why it has always been such a relief when I could just pack up and start over in a new place. Some might call it running away from my troubles -- and they wouldn't be completely wrong -- but that doesn't change the fact that I've always valued my own freedom above any arbitrary societal norms.

6. Scandinavian Music Group - Näin minä vihellän matkallani

SMG is another one of those bands I grew up on and have seen live several times, so they needed to be here. This song is more on the "aesthetic" end of scale than how I see myself. In fact, I've many times hoped I could be like the narrator of this song. I'll give you a couple of verses to explain:

Kun minulta viedään kaikki Autan kantamaan Ja kun lopulta kaadun Teen sen näyttävästi

When everything's taken from me I'll help them carry it And when I finally fall I'll do it with a flair

Minä vihellän matkallani Näin minä vihellän matkallani Jos sen on oltava niin Olkoon sitten niin

I'm whistling on my journey See how I'm whistling on my journey If this is how things have to be Then so be it

It's this carefree attitude. Laughing in the face of hardship and controversy. There's another amazing line about getting back to the saddle after you fall and swearing you'd do it all over again. I've never been able to do that, because I carry all my old failures and pains so close to the surface, and could never just shake them off with a shrug, no matter how minor.

But on another level, I keep hearing from people who I thought knew me that I don't seem depressed. And who can blame them: on the outside, it probably looks like I bounce back from hardships really fast, because I'm so used to masking my issues that the moment I'm physically capable of doing it, I will. So you might say this song is a picture of my outer self, though it hardly mirrors what's really going on.

7. Queen - Don't Stop Me Now

I'm a firm believer that if my life was a teen movie, this is the song I'd have playing in the final scene where I'd just go "fuck that" and started dancing with @mirkwoodstock in the middle of the parking lot of something. It's my ultimate party anthem, the one that always has me dancing and singing along no matter where I am.

Back when we were at the university, Nanna and I used to go to this rock'n'roll club in town and they'd always play Don't Stop Me Now close to the end of the night, and it really became our song. Like, no matter how shitty I felt, when it came on, I'd be there, and so would she. And that's why it also deserves to be on the list.

8. Blind Channel - Died Enough For You

Throwing a rare newer song into the mix. The moment I heard this song, I knew I'd be listening to it a lot. There's also an acoustic version if you're not a fan of the genre or if you just wanna have a different perspective. Blind Channel is also representing Finland in Eurovision next week, and I'm living for it.

Advertising aside, Died Enough For You takes me to some really dark times in my life. I've been in relationships, both romantic and not, where I've been carrying the other person and giving so much of myself, risking my own mental health (which was not that good to begin with) and not getting much in return. There comes a point where you have to prioritize yourself and admit that dragging yourself into the same abyss is not going help anyone. Unfortunately, usually it takes more strength to admit that and leave than to stay in the relationship that's hurting you.

I'm still talking to some of these people, but I've learned to give myself a permission to sign off when I notice that by helping them I'm only hurting myself more. Someone else's wellbeing cannot be my responsibility when I'm struggling to keep myself afloat. And I truly hope everyone who is supporting me also knows that.

9. Aqua Timez - 真夜中のオーケストラ

Title translates to "Midnight Orchestra". Yes, it's from Naruto. I discovered it back when I was still more involved in anime fandom stuff, and fell for it again year ago when I binged the anime when to lockdowns started, because I needed an escape.

And what an escape it was. Have you ever heard a song and immediately went "I need a tattoo of this", or is that just me? I'm probably not going to get a tattoo because I don't trust non-Japanese artists to get the kanjis right, but the song still captures something very real about loneliness that's not really visible but still very much there. Like, the moment when you meet a person you can truly relate to and for the first time realize you'd been feeling lonely all that time. That's what this song describes to me.

Below are a few verses towards the end of the song. I've bolded the one that first caught my attention (and which I still have as the title of my Japan sideblog).

真夜中の詩が叫んだ「僕ほんとうは独りが　嫌いだ　大嫌いだ」 独りぼっちで　生きてゆけてしまうなんてこと

The song of midnight cried out "I truly hate being alone more than anything" I hate to go on living completely alone…

幸せなんて　小さなスプーンで掬えるくらいで充分なんだ 分け合える人がいるか　いないかだけ

All I need is being able to scoop happiness with a tiny spoon so long as I have someone to share it with

(Full translation)

真夜中の詩は叫ぶよ「僕ほんとうは　僕ほんとうは　淋しかった」 太陽の眩しさに　かき消されても

The song of midnight cried out "I was truly, truly… lonely" Even if I were to be erased by the sun's radiance

10. Jenni Vartiainen (Apulanta) - Mato

This song, named "Worm", was originally released by Finnish rock band Apulanta in 1997. The lyrics, while they might make sense as individual statements, are basically gibberish when you combine them into one piece and try to understand the meaning. There is none. Anyways, the version I chose is a remake by another artist, first performed on the Finnish version of The Best Singers format. It doesn't make any more sense, I just like it better because Jenni is hot and she made it so much fun.

And the reason it's on this list? Welcome to my brain, folks! Sometimes, especially when I'm overwhelmed by lots of external stimuli, my mind tends to just wander wherever the hell it pleases and make connections even I don't get. It also likes to forget the stuff I said just a second a go, so I can switch subjects on the go without even noticing. It's very soothing to have music that doesn't require me to make those connections when that happens.

And now, I shall close this massive post with the first verse of this masterpiece:

Minä tahdon ulos, tahdon ulos kattilasta Minä tahdon pelastaa vielä sinutkin kiehumasta Minä tahdon lentää ulos vessan ikkunasta Minä tahdon tietää kaiken teidän karkkimaasta

I want out, I want out of this kettle I also want to save you from boiling I want to fly out of the toilet window I want to know everything about your candy land

Stay safe and take care of yourselves my dears💕

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 14

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 14 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 13 / Part 15

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, swearing

Historical Inaccuracies: N/A :)

Word Count: 4.5k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

My birthday had been an absolute disaster, to say the least.

It hadn’t started out as a disaster, waking up with the morning sun warming my face. I normally hated to be woken up that way, because it meant that the dawn had broken into a new day when I’d only just managed to fall asleep. My thoughts kept me awake most nights, and when on a rare occasion they left me alone, the sounds of parties or sloshed band members took up the torch.

But I’d fallen asleep before the dawn on my twenty-seventh birthday, and had awoken with a rather lovely girl in my arms. Sure, I’d woken up with lovely girls before, but that had usually been after a drunken round of bedroom pleasantries, ones that became very much unpleasantries as soon as the night came down.

This had been different.

For one, I hadn’t taken her to bed, but for another, what had been beautiful in the nighttime remained so in the light of day.

She, usually alternatingly vibrant with talk and reserved with intelligent pensiveness, had seemed almost subdued where she lay in my arms. Her hair was messy, no doubt from my lack of usefulness as a pillow, and her lips, subtly pinkened, looked powder soft where her face was nestled against my chest. I felt afraid to move; she looked delicate in her unconsciousness, and my clumsy hand would only shatter her.

Yet I longed to touch her cheek.

Strange, this longing.

From my chest it ran to my fingertips and toes, and stole my breath away, like a thief who’d noticed that I’d purposely left my doors unlocked. Purposely, because I wanted this— I wanted to touch her cheek, to hold her in my arms. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted something so terribly, yearning taking over the few thoughts that did not concern themselves with my general fears of failure in life.

And I wanted to hear her laugh, all the time, because, god, that laugh. I wouldn’t mind kissing her laughter away, stopping only to hear it again.

When I spoke, she listened, listened like she truly wanted to hear what I had to say, not like she was just being polite and waiting for me to finish so that she could leave and get on with her day. No. when I talked with her, my words were light and they flowed that way, stories I’d never told anyone spilling from my tongue as though I believed I had it in me to continue to trust her, forever. As though she and her familiar presence would stay with me forever, would always be there to welcome me home.

But I’d just about ruined it all only a few hours later, in telling her the only truth I’d ever feared to tell her— the truth that would push her away if she chose not to come with us on tour. And of course she’d said no, because her whole life was in London, in the city, and neither I nor anybody else had the right to take that from her. Deep down, I’d known that she would say no, but my naïve and wasted heart had still tried to convince me otherwise, and so I’d asked her.

Now there was nothing to do but to leave and to bury whatever nonsense I’d been carrying around my head for the past few years.

Years I’d spent gazing at her, first from afar, and then from such a closeness that when a sigh escaped her lips, it brushed mine. If anything had been meant to happen, it would have happened by now.

And now, as I gathered my things from around my bedroom at Ridge Farm, it was too late. Six weeks had gone by, and six weeks had brought me as close to her as I’d ever get.

Soon, this would all be a memory. A sickening memory and a fever dream that would keep me awake for many, many nights to come, restless and sleepless and full of regrets of not making something happen when I wanted it to, instead of fucking waiting around for some divine intervention to lead into my arms the girl with stars of lovingness in her hair.

I’d have waited forever if I could.

But life goes on. And if you don’t move, the world will pull the rug out from under your feet and let you fall.

I hadn’t moved, I’d waited. The rug had been pulled, and I had fallen.

Wasn’t that what they said about love? That you fell?

Not that this was love, but hell, it might have become it.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Cheer up, Brian,” said Roger unhelpfully. “We’re going back to London to record an album, not attend your funeral.”

I continued to drink my coffee in silence, staring out the window. The sky was grey and the weather threatened rain. Just the thing to lift my spirits. Although, I supposed I was being selfish because the summer had been dry of late, and the farmlands needed water sooner rather than later.

But though the light outside was dim and the indoors were subsequently dark, there were no stars, no little pinpricks of light, to penetrate the gloom. At least in the night, I had that.

What would it be like if we could see beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, see the stars, during the day? she had asked me once.

I hadn’t said anything.

It’d be like looking into your eyes.

That was what I had wanted to say.

“Oh, Roger,” Freddie said, almost despairingly. “Can’t you see, darling?”

“No, Freddie. It’s all smudges and shapes.”

“You really must get that eyesight of yours sorted out. How can you even see the drums? No wonder you keep falling a beat behind.”

“That’s ridiculous. I could play the drums in the dark and you know it, Fred.”

“Brian?” John’s hand fell to my shoulder.

“Hm?” I looked up from my coffee.

Deacy was frowning.

“Are you quite alright, lovie?” asked Freddie, sweeping around the kitchen counter to sit down across from me. Roger wriggled the coffee cup from my grasp before pouring me another mugful, his expression far too concerned for my liking. Attention wasn’t something I relished. Particularly not when it involved having my picture taken. I took all the pictures, I didn’t look good on camera. I didn’t look good being looked at. It was a wonder I’d made it this far in the world of stage business at all.

“You’re moping,” Freddie remarked when I again neglected to answer.

“No, I’m not,” I muttered finally, figuring it would put him off.

An absurd notion, really. Nothing in the world put Freddie off.

“You are,” he insisted. “You’ve been moping ever since your birthday. You were fine in the morning, but then cranky in the afternoon and every day after.”

“On and on like a broken record,” Roger put in. “If I’d had wanted a broken record, I’d have scratched one myself, not asked for you to bloody become one.”

I sighed, feeling too tired to make a proper reply. Perhaps all those nights of staying awake were finally catching up with me.

“You’re all just as blind as Brian himself,” John tutted, passing Roger a couple of sugar packets so that he could get his one-and-three-sevenths.

Freddie narrowed his eyes at me, crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, as though he knew exactly what my problem was. He probably did know. I wouldn’t put anything past him. “Ah. So what now?”

I sipped my coffee. “So, what? We’re leaving, her life is here, ours is out in the world of never staying the same place twice—”

Roger smirked. “I see.”

“Said the blind man,” Deacy laughed.

“See what?” I snapped. “What is it you all claim to see? There’s nothing to see.”

“Darling, no one mentioned Y/N, and yet you jumped to the conclusion that we were talking about her. I’d say it’s all fairly obvious.”

My fingertips brushed the side of my nose in a nervous habit I’d had for years. It always seemed to make an appearance at the mention of one name in particular.

“And there’s the nervous tic,” Roger tapped the side of his own nose, and I hid my hand under the table.

“I was the same way around Veronica,” Deacy said with a smile, stirring his tea. “Any mention of her and my legs turned to custard.”

Roger snorted.

“We know, Deacy,” said Fred. “We were there.”

“Mmyes. I seem to quite forget the world around me when I’m around her.”

The conversation seemed to refocus on more unpleasant matters as all three of them stared me down.

“So did you tell her?” said Roger.

I sighed again. “Tell her what.”

“Not moping, bollocks to that,” Roger muttered. “Did you tell her how you feel?”

“No.” That was all I would allow myself. One word on which to dwell. No more. I would not dwell.

“We’re leaving, and you asked her to come with us, but you didn’t tell her?” Freddie leaned toward outrage.

I set down my coffee cup, a sudden anger slipping into my hands as the porcelain smacked the tabletop just a little too hard. The coffee sloshed over the cup’s sides.

“She said no, in what fucking world would I tell her?”

“In a better one,” remarked John.

“Oh, shut up,” I seethed. “You all act so superior, like you’d have done any better in my place.”

Freddie’s expression had turned sour. “You’re the one who’s acting superior!” he cried. “All moody and ooh, poor me, I’m the only one who’s ever had to cope with such a terrible thing as this.”

“Piss off, Fred,” I growled. “You’re dramatic enough for the four of us.”

“Says you! Pull yourself together, Brian. We wouldn’t be here arguing if you had.”

“Both of you, pull yourselves together,” Deacy berated. “We haven’t even begun recording yet and you’re already neck and neck!”

“Oh that’ll be fun,” I muttered.

“Not really, if you’ll be pining after some girl the whole time,” said Roger. “Should’ve tried that when you were writing songs instead.”

At that I stood up. “Some girl?” I scoffed. “Oh, don’t be so fucking ridiculous! Roger, she’s the only reason we’ve got our manager, she’s the only reason we’ve had this place to clear out heads and write our songs, and she’s the only reason I’ve written nearly four songs for the bloody album and not just two and a half.”

Not one of them said anything.

Then Freddie shook his head slowly. “You’ve got to tell her,” he said. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Drained of energy, I sank back into my chair. “And yet, it’s been going on for years.”

“Years?” said Roger disbelievingly.

I gave a rather pathetic shrug.

“Years?” he repeated. “You’ve been fucking pining for her, for years?”

“Yes, Roger, years,” I said mockingly. “Why do you think I wrote ‘White Queen’?”

Roger’s mouth fell open. “You— you wrote ‘White Queen’ for her?”

“Brian,” Freddie’s expression was contorted, “that was in ‘68.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling my chest tighten. “Why is that so hard for you all to understand?”

John shook his head. “Not for me, it isn’t.”

I looked over at him questioningly, a dull ache that made me wince spreading beneath my skin.

He glanced at us each in turn, then smiled pityingly.

“None of you have ever been in love, have you?”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“I’m not in love,” I’d spat, my anger replenished.

Love, such a fickle thing. You expressed it too often and you were deemed careless, in-genuine. Too rarely, and every sign of sadness was dubbed heartache. Was it so wrong to simply be sad for the sake of being sad, to feel empty instead of restful when you closed your eyes, to feel your spirit leave you a little with each breath on a rainy day?

What am I going to tell my father?

That was what was bothering me at the moment, not her. Not Y/N.

I touched a hand to my cheek, feeling the warmth that flushed the skin there.

God, I couldn’t even think her name without my shoulders tensing or my face colouring. It was like I was back in the body of my fourteen year-old self, skinny and awkward and shy and riddled with holes of innocence that experience had yet to fill.

How was I going to tell my dad that I was giving up my perfectly good chance at a stable career for a full-time gig as the guitarist for a band that was barely known?

But there was no changing my mind now. Not because it was too late to re-register as an astrophysics student for the start of term in autumn, but because I was tired of neglecting my dream. Could I not have more than one dream? Why did everything always have to be so single-minded?

I loved music, I loved feeling the melodies form beneath my fingers, drawn from nothing by my imagination and the thin air. I loved working with Freddie and Roger and John, I loved what we became when we were Her Majesty, Queen.

I wasn’t willing to give that up. I realised that now.

And so I avoided Y/N for our final week at Ridge Farm, because she made me want to change my mind.

For the first time in months, I missed her Thursday night guitar lesson again.

Then the sun rose on our final day in Surrey, and as I opened my eyes to the sunlight despite having only just fallen asleep, a sickly feeling skittered about in my stomach, the wings of butterflies fluttering against my abdomen.

I’d spent the entire night thinking about the fact that after today, I would probably never see her again.

I sighed, closing my suitcase and sparing the room a final glance. I had not slept much here, but still I had dreamt, faraway sentiments that would never be requited.

I pulled on my jacket and smoothed down the velvet, squinting at my reflection in the small mirror that hung on the wall above a nondescript dresser.

I didn’t look particularly tired, though I might have felt it. Sure, there were smudges of shadow beneath my eyes and little bits of stubble clung to my jaw, but my shoulders did not sag, and tanned skin and rosy cheeks had replaced my usually pale complexion, my hair bore little streaks here and there that were lighter than the rest.

In a way, Ridge Farm had refreshed me. The quiet of the countryside had eased the tension etched into my muscles by the rush of city life, and I’d enjoyed being able to see the stars properly at night.

I’d enjoyed watching them with Y/N.

Who would watch the stars with me, and indulge my silly ramblings?

Who would stand up for me even when my opinion was ridiculous, or tease me when it was perfectly sound?

Who would leave me with a theory or a quip that would resurface in my memory when I felt uninspired or glum? Who would leave me with something to smile about when darkness hovered too close at the edge of my vision?

Who would be there to banish it all from my wretched mind?

With each thought, I felt dizzier at the prospect of just leaving, without… Well, without anything.

She deserved to know, didn’t she?

And yet, I deserved to keep my secrets, did I not?

I could allow myself a little dignity, at least.

What would I tell her anyway? That she both grounded me and made me feel like I was flying? That I would take her with me to space if I was to go alone, because I didn’t want to be alone if it wasn’t with her? That I felt my soul became made of stardust when she walked into a room?

People didn’t say such things, and without saying such things, I couldn’t tell her what it was— whatever it was— I felt for her, if I felt anything at all. It was hard to tell whether her presence terrified me or comforted me. I didn’t understand how I felt about her, really, and that was my problem.

“Brian!” Freddie shouted for me like it wasn’t the first time he’d called.

“Coming,” I muttered to no one but myself. I picked up my suitcase by its wooden handle and slipped my socked feet into my wooden shoes. I looked about once more, then went into the hall, closing behind me the door to this part of my life.

Mistress Melancholy settled herself into my bones, and she unpacked her bags, here to stay.

Down the stairs and into the living room, and there they were all standing.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy and Veronica and John Harris and Crystal and Heather and Mary, and… And Y/N.

Take my breath away, why don’t you?

But her parents and her brother were there too, and I squared my shoulders as I approached. Her dad had only warmed to me as of late, and if he took even a singular glance at the expression on his daughter’s face as I made my way toward her, he would have been right to throw me to the ground in a blind rage.

She did look tired. Beautiful, but tired. Mouth set grimly, her shoulders stiff.

Yet, the sparkle in her eyes had not dulled. And she shone, even in her weariness.

My evening star.

Our two roadies, Mary, Heather, and Veronica were the first to say their goodbyes and go outside to savour the last of the country air, Ronnie carrying little Robert in her arms. Roger would first ferry Crystal, Roadie-John, Freddie, and myself to the train station, then return to take himself and the others back to London via his beloved Alfa.

Hugs and kisses and generally well-placed sentiments of gratitude and affection were shared all around, between thanking Y/N’s parents for their hospitality and telling Y/N that she would be sorely missed in the days to come.

Freddie, Rog, Deacy, and I stuck around to say our own final goodbyes, with Y/N’s parents naming us family and welcome at any time, and everyone reminiscing about our time at Ridge Farm.

Y/N was mostly quiet, and I was silent altogether, my eyes only leaving her when her gaze flicked in my direction.

I wondered what she was thinking, if she would think of me, as I would think of her, when I was gone.

Roger excused himself to go to the car, no doubt fearing that the others would have trashed it in his absence.

“You’re in love with that car,” I said, sighing.

Roger shouted, “BETTER THAN WITH YOU, you nErD!”

Then Y/N laughed, and upon instinct, I smiled.

How lovely it felt, to smile. I should smile more often.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get up to other things out there,” said Freddie, going after Roger. “Au revoir, darlings!”

“Au revoir,” Y/N’s parents responded.

Deacy left as well, offering a smile as a parting gift.

I cleared my throat.

“Thank you again for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews,” I said, and when Mrs. Andrews held out her arms to me, I embraced her.

“Anna, dear. Please call me Anna,” she smiled as radiantly as her daughter. “It was so lovely to have you here.”

Then, to my surprise, Y/N’s father addressed me. “And I’m Sebastian to you, son. You’re in good company. No need for formalities.”

“Well, thank you Mr.— Sebastian,” I cringed.

“Brian,” Frank nodded to me, and I returned the gesture.

“Frank.”

Then, before I realised what was happening, the three eldest members of the Andrews family had left the room.

Y/N and I were alone.

I racked my mind for anything, for what to do, what to say, but I came up with nothing when she smiled at me.

She turned my mind to a puddle.

“Time to go, I suppose,” she said.

“Yeah,” I murmured, unable to take my eyes from hers, “I suppose.”

She felt so far away, as though I was already gone and it was too late to reach for her.

And still, I said nothing, for what could I say?

“You’re the reason why I play, you know,” she said.

I furrowed my brow. “What?”

“Guitar. I never would’ve kept going if I hadn’t seen you perform. I was so close to giving up. But, and sorry to be sappy,” here she gave a little laugh, “you inspired me.”

I inspired her? Now here was a reversal of roles. ‘White Queen’ was hers, and so was ‘‘39’. It was all hers.

“Did I really?”

She laughed again, and I had never heard a lovelier sound, even if she presently was laughing at me. “You’re too modest, Brian, and you’re insanely talented. I’ll never be that good, even if I were to practice every minute of every day.”

Her words tore at my heart. I had never felt so… so appreciated, so admired, so loved.

“If you keep playing,” I said, “I have no doubt you will be better than me. Easily, in fact. I’m not exactly the world’s most technical guitar player.”

She peered up at me beneath her eyelashes, her lips parted softly.

I couldn’t stand it.

I reached for her, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. My touch lingered on her skin, and I found myself drifting toward her. She held a pull over me that gravity could only have dreamt to replicate.

Then, realising the intimacy of what I’d just done, my fingers curled into my palm and I stepped back.

“Brian—”

I would not dwell. And I would not stay around to hear her ask me to leave.

“Until next time, Y/N.”

And that would have been that.

Except she just had to say my name again, didn’t she?

“Oh, dammit, Bri. Come here.” Her hand brushed my shoulder. I pulled her into my arms.

Her heartbeat fluttered against my chest, and I missed her already.

I didn’t— I couldn’t— hug her cautiously this time, the way I normally did, gentle and only just there, driven by the fear that she would disintegrate beneath my hands. This time, I embraced her as though it were the very last time, because it might very well have been.

And then words slipped from my lips, my heart in control of everything and my mind tossed out the window.

“I don’t think I can stand an entire summer without you,” I said. She nestled further into my embrace, and despite everything, my heart soared.

“Not an entire summer,” she replied. “Just half.”

“Y/N,” I hummed pathetically.

“Bri.” She too sounded anguished.

“May I come see you? Just me?”

She said nothing, only held on to me, and really, what more could I ask of her?

“Or let me take you out,” I murmured. “Somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere you want to go.”

“Anywhere?” she whispered.

“Anywhere,” I whispered back.

“I’d love that,” she said, and my breath caught. She’d love it. “Soon?”

I drew back from her, to see if the expression on her face was as genuine as the sound of her voice.

It was.

“Soon,” I promised, and I did not lie. I was already planning my return.

And then I leaned down, the thrum of my pulse far too loud in my ears to listen to reason.

I kissed her cheek.

Briefly, but kiss her cheek I did.

“Bri,” she sighed, and her hands wound around mine.  

“It’s difficult.”

She looked puzzled, but I didn’t elaborate.

It’s difficult. To leave you. But I must.

Mustn’t I?

I took my hands from hers and made for the door.

It’s not too late. You can still turn back.

Can I?

Could I?

No. I would not take her life from her in this way.

“Goodbye, beautiful,” I said.

I will not take her life from her, I will not take her life from I will not take her life from her—

Oh, but I wanted to be selfish.

For once in my life, I wanted something so badly that I couldn’t let it go.

I wouldn’t let her go.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You touched your cheek.

He was gone.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

And then he wasn’t.

In the doorway he was standing, the sun his backlight, a fallen angel who was still very much an angel.

“Come with us. Come with me,” he sighed wistfully, fingers wrapped around the doorframe so tightly that his knuckles turned to white.

You had rarely seen such raw emotion in your life, never known desperation so pure, outside of yourself.

But here was Brian, hanging onto the door as though it were his last hope to remain standing, and gazing at you like you were his only hope at all.

“You’re my best friend,” he breathed.

And then abruptly, it all became very clear to you. Utterly simple.

You wanted to go with Queen, with Brian, and staying behind would only mean once more sacrificing your own happiness in the pursuit of pleasing others.

Brian made you happy, damn it, and you were tired of hopelessness. You wanted to be happy, and for once, you wanted your own happiness enough to realise what it was you had to do.

“And you’re mine,” you said.

Mine. No more than a word, and yet it brought such a sense of belonging, a swell of warmth through you that could have outshone Sirius in all its glory.

Brian’s face broke into a smile, and involuntarily, so did yours.

He knew, even before you’d said it, that you were coming with him.

And when you returned to the living room ten rushed minutes later with your suitcase packed, your parents were there to kiss you goodbye, even if your dad did so reluctantly. But you explained hastily what it was you had to do, and promised that you would explain in further detail as soon as you could. You were an adult; this was your choice to make.

The truth was, you had no idea what came next, not in terms of school or residence or anything at all, but what did it matter? This was the adventure of a lifetime, to run away to god knew where with a rock and roll band, and if a little of spontaneity was to dictate your life for a while, then so much the better. After all, what was adventure without an element of spontaneity?

You ran out into the sunshine of the late afternoon, and Brian was there to take your hand.

The others gave a raucous cheer as the two of you appeared in the driveway, whoops and claps echoing around the courtyard to be met with recklessly happy laughter from you, from Brian.

It would seem you had always been part of the plan.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

taglist: @melting-obelisks​ @sgt-stardust-killerqueen​ @hgmercury39​  @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @brianmays-hair​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​ @cloudyyspace​ @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen​ @annajolras​

Masterpost / Part 13 / Part 15