#it's manifesting in the way he performs on stage too

[ddanadeai]

here’s an opinion. sanha grew into an on par if not a better performer than moonbin.

[byuntrash101]

the better friend

f!reader x san x mingi ft ateez smut | mdni 7.3k a good friend lets a friend watch but a better friend lets him join nsfw tags under the cut

idol!au, dom bf!san, switch simp!mingi (rengoku hair mingi because im weak for him), a teeny tiny bit of plot, san is an evil genius in this, biting, marking, exhibitionism/voyeurism (mingi peeping at reader and san), sensory deprivation (blindfold), suspicion of dubcon but it's cleared out, masturbation (m), oral (m), fingering (f), threesome with sangi, unprotected sex (don't do that kids), praises and degradation (good girl, darling, princess... but also slut, whore, etc), lots of begging, so. much. teasing, kitty slaps <33333 (san is the kitty slapper™), finger sucking (f & m), ruined orgasm (f), dumbification (reader and mingi are fucked stupid), sloppy seconds, cum play (lots of cum), multiple orgasms (f & m), overstimulation (m), facial (f), a bit of spit kink, squirting, lowkey wholesome ending (we love to see it)

this a sequel to the good friend but it can be read as a stand alone. you just have to know san and reader have been dating for a long time and mingi has been simping for reader for almost as long.

a/n: i really went all in tbh. i dont know what happened but like. this fic is filthy and I LOVE IT. also consider this our collective manifestation prayer circle to achieve barricade tickets for the upcoming tour <3

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Usually you wouldn’t watch the concert from the crowd. San said it would be too distracting to see you in the pit of faces along with the cheering crowd of entranced fans. Moreover, he could perform any song for you whenever you wanted, you simply had to ask. But you always argued it wasn’t the same looking from backstage because the angle was all wrong and the sound wasn’t as clear. And for the private concerts, they didn’t have the sparkly outfits and San didn’t have the same drive, the same aura he had on stage.

“Even with the best will in the world I can't cheer as loud and stroke your ego as good as a crowd of tens of thousands of Atinys chanting your name in unisson.” 

San only sighed. All those points were indeed valid. And he had to admit defeat.

“Just this once, ok?” and you practically jumped in his arms and kissed him all over his pretty face which traded the deep creases between his straight brows and the pout for an amused smile on his lips. “But you gotta promise me to blend in” he said sternly, momentarily getting out of the array of kisses to make sure he got his point across. You nodded firmly.

“Don’t worry too much about it Sannie~”  you said before hugging him again. 

“Yeah…” he said and you felt his cheek lifting against yours once more. An idea blossomed within him.

***

The concert was insane. You were so glad you had finally convinced your performer boyfriend. Being there in the crowd felt so much different from backstage. There you could cheer and enjoy the show in a way that was so much more intense and raw. You screamed and chanted and sang. You did everything. Yeosang even waved at you and you waved back. But it all felt and looked like a normal fan to idol interaction. So you were doing a pretty good job at keeping your promise to your boyfriend.

Speaking of the devil, that man captivated you. His aura on stage was unparalleled. His moves were sharp, his eyes focussed, his voice powerful and stable. He was incredibly professional. 

He perfectly conveyed every emotion of each act so perfectly. His delivery carried out sorrow and depth throughout the emotional songs and his moves inspired power and aplomb during the upbeat and energetic ones.

The fact that he still manages to surprise you every time with his talent and drive is incredible in itself. You were there every step of the way of his journey. You met a kid with a dream and now you stood in front of a man with passion. 

And what a man he was. You couldn’t get enough of him, enough of the way he moved so effortlessly on stage, enough of the way his presence filled the venue entirely. You couldn't take your eyes off him. The way the tight black sleeveless top hugged his frame, how his broad shoulders moved and accompanied every beat, how the sweat rolled off his temples and neck to get soaked by the black fabric, how his prominent muscles flexed and relaxed, the way the light bounced off his glossy bronzed skin. 

He was born to be on this stage of that you were convinced without the shadow of a doubt. 

But curiously when you weren’t eyeing your boyfriend like candy you found your eyes weirdly gravitating toward another member… Mingi. Well, no it wasn’t that weird, after all Mingi was your friend, a very good friend. Yeah it was only normal that you wanted to witness him in his element too. 

A friend cheering for a friend. 

Everything was perfectly normal. Everything? Even the thrill you felt when he delivered powerful and incisive rap verses with that low voice that was his signature? Even the tingle you felt in your guts when you saw him perfectly execute the body waves? Even the heat rushing to your chest and face when you saw the way his flexible hips rolled and thrusted? Even the unquenchable thirst you felt when you noticed the way his lips rounded up around the water bottle as he threw his head back and swallowed in big gulps, droplets of sweat running down the column of his throat and dripping at the soaked ends of the bright orange and red hair? Yes! Normal! Everything. Just normal…

But what was it, that you felt your eyes locked with his and you noticed he was also watching you. A fleeting second that seemed to last for a lifetime, hung in between the tensed and humid air. A second that silenced the crowd around you. And as quick as your eyes met his, the contact was broken. 

San once again smirked.

And the show went on.

***

When the show ended you waited a little for the venue to empty. Some people were still hanging around chatting excitedly about the fresh core memories they had made or taking selfies to ensure the memories stayed vivid for a long time. But you managed to sneak behind the barricades unnoticed. 

You found the members exchanging and laughing at some minor unnoticed mistakes that happened that you didn’t even catch.

“Y/n-ah!!” Wooyoung was the first one to notice you. And he wrapped his arms around your nape lovingly. “How was the show? Did you like it? Who was the most handsome back there? Was it me? Don’t say San or I will get mad! It was me, wasn’t it?”

You only laughed returning his warm embrace.

“You’re lucky Mingi isn’t here when you get this handsy with y/n” Yunho remarked, crossing his arms on his chest. You and Yeosang were the only ones that appeared remotely confused by the statement. 

“You mean San?” Yeosang asked, in an attempt to clear out the confusion but Yunho only shook his head.

“San doesn’t mind it as much.” Yunho added.

“Mingi is the one that only tolerates San being all touchy touchy with y/n” Seonghwa said, as he was removing his mic pack from his back pocket. 

You were still very much perplexed but when you went back to look at Yeosang he was just nodding knowingly in approbation. You decided to not pay more attention to the strange exchange because you only wanted to congratulate San.

“Speaking of my wonderful boyfriend. Any idea where he’s hiding?” 

Hongjoong shrugged as he looked around. 

“San and Mingi already went back to the dressing rooms, I think” Jongho said. 

“Thanks big baby” you said, ruffling his hair and fleeing instantly while you heard him complain about it in the distance. 

Once you reached the hall of individual dressing rooms you rushed to San’s door ready to barge in before you heard a muffled conversation coming from the other side. You couldn’t make much of what was being said but you recognized the voices without a doubt. You decided to knock before letting yourself in carefully.

“Oh! y/n, baby” San rushed to you as soon as you entered while Mingi stood there and gave you a silent nod and an awkward half smile (the signature business smile as Yunho liked to call it). You returned the smile, perfectly mirroring Mingi’s awkwardness. “So how was the show?” San continued paying no mind to Mingi anymore, solely focussing on you.

“I’m gonna get going” Mingi said, somewhat hurriedly before walking past you and heading towards the door. Before closing it he exchanged a knowing glance with San who returned it with a nod, you tried to decipher the unreadable expression on your boyfriend’s face but to no avail. And your tall fire haired friend disappeared promptly behind the door. Something felt strange about the whole ordeal but you couldn't pinpoint it. 

But after the tension you felt looking at Mingi during the concert you didn’t have it in you to bring it up, to bring him up. You wanted to focus on your boyfriend. That was the best thing to do… for everyone.

“So~ baby ~. Did you enjoy yourself?” San asked and he snaked his strong arm around your waist, his skin still had a light sheen of sweat about it.

“You were incredible!!” you said enthusiastically, trying your best to get rid of the outlandish feeling and the lingering guilt.

“Was I, huh? Really?” he said, curious to hear more. You knew how much San liked to be praised so you went on.

“You’re the performer of the century! Your voice was so good like baby your mic was ON!” San nestled his face in the crook of your neck.

“Go on” he said as he was planting soft kisses on your skin. His hands were now roaming your body sliding up your arms and down your spine to the small of your back and up again. He was really enjoying the praises, so much so that the atmosphere shifted again to feel a little heavier, a subtle change that you picked up on right away. After dating San for so long you knew him all too well to not know what the soft touches and gentle kisses on your neck meant. So you matched his energy. What better way to chase away Mingi’s memory than to let your boyfriend fuck you stupid until you could only remember his name and the way his cock felt inside you?

“Yes. You looked so focussed and you looked so good.'' Another kiss and another, slower, lingering, warm. “I couldn't take my eyes off you” you felt him smirk against your skin. That was a lie. He knew that but somehow that lighted a fire in him. And he threw a look to the ajar door of the dressing room.

“Fuck you smell so good baby” San huffed pushing his hardening cock onto your hip and you bit your lip to repress a moan. “It was so hard not to look at you while you were down in the pit” He breathed against your skin. “I wanted to make you step on that stage and take you right there.” He pushed his cock with more intent onto you. “I wanted everyone to see you. I wanted everyone to know what a good little slut you can be for me” This time the kiss had more teeth, you felt him bite onto your neck. “Can you imagine? All those eyes on you?” 

This mere vision had you moaning and throwing your head back. In a flash your brain played it like a movie for you: you, sprawled out onto the stage, being a good girl for your boyfriend. Your face flushed and your folds glistening with need. While he pushed into you under the roars of the crowd. Under their gaze. Under his gaze. Mingi looking at you being fucked full of cock and cum. Mingi looking at you… The thought sent a wave of arousal through your guts and you felt your panties becoming uncomfortably wet.

“Fuck” San complained in a short breath, his rumbling voice bringing you back. “I want you so fucking bad” the urgency that laced his low voice made the carnal confession that much more real. The sexual tension was almost palpable.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you said teasingly, pressing your thigh up his groin and you felt him melt into the skin of your neck with a small gasp. You smirked, satisfied.

“Fuck baby you’re so so bad” he teased and extended his hand to the clothing rack of gaudy and studded stage outfits that was next to you. “I want us to play today” his fingers interlaced with a silk scarf that you believed belonged to one of Yunho’s fits from a previous stage. “What about a little sensory deprivation play? What do you say baby?” He asked, holding the makeshift blindfold. 

You thought of it for a second. Any other time you would have jumped on the occasion but now… your goal was precisely to look at San to forget… well everything else. There’s really no telling what your imagination will run to if your eyes aren’t able to only take in the figure of your boyfriend. And that scared you a little bit. San sensed it right away.

“You know you can trust me right?” you knew that much of course you could trust him. But could you trust yourself?  

“I know what you like, baby don’t worry. Let’s try something new, okay?”

“Okay” you finally exhaled.

***

Mingi didn’t know what he was still doing there. Hunched over and peeping through the small gap of the door like a creep. He should go, he should have gone a long time ago. That was just a crazy idea. What kind of friend just agrees when he’s asked to watch his friend and his girlfriend (who also happened to be his crush) fuck? He should have declined and left but no. He said yes. And he didn’t even think twice, didn't even question it. He just blurted yes like a pathetic simp that’s been waiting for the occasion forever. (That was true unfortunately but Mingi wasn’t ready to admit that to himself). Now San probably thought he was a weird fucking pervert. A fucking freak. But he wasn't…right? Right! Yeah, of course he wasn’t! So he should leave… He should leave like now. But he couldn't.

He couldn’t when he saw your face change as San buried his face into your neck. He loved the way your eyes changed when he saw San roll his hips against yours. The whole aura about you changed, your gaze darkened but also your voice. It became lower, more sultry. He couldn’t make out what you two were saying but he didn’t have to because the non verbal language was more than enough to understand the simple primal interaction that was happening between you two. 

You were about to fuck…

When San grabbed Yunho’s silk scarf and held it to you. Mingi felt your hesitation but then an instant later San was carefully tying the silk ribbon at the back of your head. Not too tight just enough to keep you from seeing anything. And just like that in a second it was dark.

Mingi watched his friend guiding you to the vanity and you giggled playfully as his large hands snaked to your thighs and grabbed your ass to hoist you up the furniture, pushing the makeup products in the process, one lipstick rolling off the surface and on the ground. Neither of you both even realized and Mingi couldn’t care less especially now that San’s hand left your hip to turn around and signal Mingi to enter back into the room. 

His heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. Was he really about to do that? Yeah of course he was. Because his body was moving on its own, feeling the irrepressible pull, the inexplicable magnetism he felt for you from that very first day in Gang-nam. 

San’s hand moved to his lips to signal his tall friend not to make any noise. And as if he was floating Mingi found himself holding his breath and standing to your side ogling you hungrily as San focussed back on you. His hand leaving his lips to ride your skirt up your hips and revealing the black lace panties.

“Did you know we were going to do that?” your boyfriend asked and you didn’t need to see to know about the shit eating grin on his face. “Is it why you wore such easy-access clothes?”

You gasped and bit your lip. You couldn't see but you could feel. San’s warm hands on your thigh rose goosebumps on your skin. The heightened sensations made more arousal pool in your panties.

“Answer me, baby” San said, low voice taking on a commanding tone before suddenly pulling on your blouse, popping open every single one of your snap buttons and just like that your black lace bra was also on display.

And Mingi thought he was going to explode. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he had to clench his fist so hard and only the dull pain in his palms kept him from gasping at the breathtaking view. How fucking beautiful could you be? 

San grabbed a fist full of your breasts kneading them roughly through your undergarment to urge an answer out of you 

“Yes!” you hurriedly replied. Arching your back into his touch. “I wore this skirt and blouse because I know how much you like to rip them off” 

“Good girl”

You heard your boyfriend hum in satisfaction and what you didn't hear was Mingi biting down on his lip so hard he could have drawn blood. But he couldn’t do otherwise when San’s fingers hooked themselves on the waist band of the lace and dragged the article of clothing along your thighs until it hung loosely on one of your ankles.

“Show me everything” San said in a breath, harshly tugging on your bra as your breasts jumped out and spilled to each side of your chest.

Mingi repressed a strangled gasp in the back of his throat as his dripping cock strained against the tight concert attire. 

“I said everything baby” San said and you knew exactly what he meant. Slowly you spread your legs to let the vanity light shine right onto your heat as everything remained dark on your part. 

Mingi felt like his brain was going to give out as your body was revealed. Your perfect breasts and hardened nipples and of course your dripping core. Long strings of slick linked your hole to the skin of your inner thighs. Mingi felt dizzy at the sight.

“Good girl” San praised again. “You always get wet so easily don't you?” he chuckled while you fought the urge to touch yourself. “Good little slut” he praised again, his hands dipping between your thighs and aiming right away for your clit. 

You pushed your hips onto his touch and moaned as he circled your bundle of nerves exactly how you liked it. 

“Fuck Sannie” you whined. “More please” 

“Want your cute little cunt finger fucked?” San cooed with his honey toned voice. And you nodded enthusiastically. But that only earned you a sharp slap on your exposed center. The wet clap resounded in the empty room. It seemed amplified for you. You moaned loudly at the stinging feeling, the delicious and unexpected pain made your legs tense up and shake slightly.

“You’re wearing a blindfold, not a gagball, princess. Use your words” San said sternly landing another slap on your swollen clit before gently circling it again.

“Y-yess!! Yes!!! P-please. Want your fingers inside” you replied in a strangle moaned, your hips uncontrollably following San’s every move.

Mingi’s jaw dropped to the floor he never knew you’d enjoyed such things, he never knew you’d enjoy the harsh tone of voice and the pain but there was no doubt you were actually loving every single second of this. Mingi was certain of it when he saw the way your cunt reacted to each little slap, the way you quivered, the way you rolled your hips into San’s hand, the pleasured moans that cascaded from your lips. Mingi couldn't take it anymore and without even realizing it he found himself palming his hard and leaking cock through his pants. 

“Good girl” San praised right before pushing two fingers inside your tight heat, curling them right into your sweet spot. You felt your concerns melt right away as you felt the two digits permeate you. The familiar feeling of the ring on his index made your mind go blank at the pleasure you felt radiating from your very core.

“F-fuck.. Sa-annie…” you breathed out with difficulty.

“Shhh. That’s it baby. I got you” San cooed, laying his other hand on your thigh, stroking it lightly. “You’re so good baby. You take my fingers so well”

The praises were setting your mind and body on fire, and you were giving in to the brazier. You moaned louder as San was pumping in and out of your cunt more rapidly, dragging out the wet squelching sounds that bounced off the walls and came back to your ears.

And Mingi’s too. He was completely entranced by the way your cunt was sucking in San’s fingers. You were so eager for them, your pussy clenching and throbbing around them every time he pulled out and welcoming them back when he pushed back in creating more thick and clear slick to gush out of your hungry little hole, the pull of arousal soon forming a small puddle in San’s palm. Mingi couldn’t think anymore, he could only rub his painfully hard cock as the wet precum stain became visible through his pants. 

“Baby are you going to cum?” San asked, his other hand leaving your thigh to lay flat on your stomach and drawing quick circles on your clit with his thumb.

“Yesss” you said through gritted teeth. But as you felt the familiar build up almost reach the peak it went away. San withdrew his fingers and took them out of your poor confused little cunt. Leaving you there to clench around nothing and whines slipped from your lips at the sudden loss of the fullness.

“You’re so greedy today” San said before slapping your eager little cunt again. You moaned and shook under him, fighting the urge to close your legs. “I’m not done playing with you”

San started to rub your clit again with his thumb with one hand while he lifted the other slick coated one to his tall friend. He wanted to chuckle but fought against it when Mingi looked back at him with puzzled puppy eyes. So he approached his hand closer to his face and mouthed “taste her”.

Mingi’s brain had given up a long time ago, so he was moving only on instincts when he opened his mouth and licked around his friend's digits as silently as possible. That was a dream come true never in a lifetime he would have hoped to taste you like this. Ever. You tasted so sweet and sinful, the velvety nectar slided on his tongue so smoothly and his eyes rolled back as he solely focused on your taste on his tongue and your alluring scent floating to his nose. 

Fuck that was what San had the pleasure of tasting everytime he found himself between your legs. If only he could taste more. Without even thinking Mingi wrapped both his hands around his friend’s wrist pushing his hand further into his mouth and sucked avidly on the cum coated finger and back to the pool of arousal that had gathered in his palm.

“Yeah that’s it” San praised as he circled your clit slowly, offering some kind of relief to the painfully swollen nub. But the praise was more for Mingi than for you. He smirked as he saw his friend devour your essence as if he was a parched man and the smirk only grew wider when he took back his hand and Mingi opened his eyes back looking at him with a glazed over stare. At that moment San knew his friend was done for.

“Here Princess” San said, extending to you his hand that was now coated in your own slick and Mingi’s spit. You instinctively welcomed the wet fingers into your mouth wrapping your lips around them and sucking them avidly. “How does it taste?”

“Sho- hmph… goodjf” you struggled to reply not wanting to let go of your boyfriend’s fingers.

Mingi was absolutely mesmerized by the way you were so eagerly sucking San’s fingers. Mixing your cum, your spit but also his own. His cock throbbed at the thought of cutting the middleman that was San’s hand and just lean down to kiss you. Lapping at your lips for entrance and diving into you, body and soul. He wanted it all.

“Such a good girl for me” San praised taking his fingers back, not without a quiet whine from your end and a repressed moan from Mingi. 

But the disappointment was short lived when you heard your boyfriend fidgeting with his pants and you knew what was coming up next. You prompted yourself on your elbow and spread your legs wider. San chuckled while Mingi cursed silently.

You were dying to see what San was doing. You wanted to see how he kicked off the pants and took his raging hard cock in hand to pump his fist a couple of times around it. You wanted to see him between your thighs as he rubbed his tip on your wets folds. You arched your back into him again, urging him to fill you up full of his cock.

“Fuck you’re so impatient, baby” He growled as he pushed his tip inside you earning a cry from you. “Is that what you wanted?" he huffed, his eyebrows meeting on his forehead as he felt the vice grip of your pussy around him. Even after a thousand times you still felt so good. So wet and tight for him.

“Y-yess! Oh fuck i- yes thank you Sannieee” you were barely able to say as you felt your cunt stretch around San’s girth. You lifted your face as if you could see him splitting you in two. You’d always liked to see him fill you up but sadly you couldn’t.

But Mingi, on the other hand, could see it all.

Mingi couldn’t help it anymore he pulled his pants and boxers down midthigh just enough to take his hard and leaking cock out. He didn’t take the time to undress. He didn’t have the time he needed to stroke his cock at the exact same pace as San was fucking you. 

Said pace was slow and deep. San liked to start out like that, he liked to drive you mad. You felt every inch of him leisurely pushing his thick cock inside until it touched the deepest part of you only to pull out just as slowly, enjoying the way your cunt gripped around him desperate to ever let him go. You were whimpering, whining and squirming. You were going crazy and you weren't the only one.

Mingi was struggling just as much as you were, his balled fist tightly wrapped around his aching length languidly going up and down. He was struggling to keep the hellishly slow pace, struggling to not stroke his fat cock faster but he had to if he wanted to maintain the illusion that it was him inside of you.

At some point San felt merciful and started to go faster. Not for you really he enjoyed to torture you way too much but it was more for Mingi, he noticed his tall friend pinching his lips into a thin line, sharp eyes shutting close and eyebrow digging a deep crease on his forehead. San enjoyed the anguish but he also enjoyed seeing the relief spread on his friends face when he finally fucked you harder. Your cunt became even tighter around San and he found himself moaning rhythmically along with you every time he pushed his thick cock inside you. While Mingi’s eyes didn't once leave your throbbing pretty pussy gushing out more and more translucent slick.

San gradually picked the pace to the point he was soon smashing his hips into you. Making your breasts jump with each powerful thrust. The fact that you couldn’t see your boyfriend makes you feel him that much more. You felt his strong and calloused hands on your thigh and waist and you felt his cock perfectly splitting you in two to this hellish rhythm that made you forget about anything else. Including your surroundings. You were no longer able to keep your voice down. Everything felt too strong, too good to be able to mask the loud moans of pleasure into small, controlled little whimpers. 

“F-fuck you’re really enjoying your…self” San struggled to say. “Aren’t you?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer anything back. You could only let your tongue loll out of your mouth while you moaned incoherent words.

Mingi’s eyes kept on darting between your swollen cunt and your fucked out face. He just knew that underneath the silk blindfold you were rolling your eyes. And that made his cock twitch in his hold, more precum oozing out the tip, at this point it was practically dripping onto the tiled floor.

“Fuck why are you being so fucking loud for?” San asked with a scoff. “Want people to hear you?”

“Sa-nnie” you complained but you did not become quieter for that much.

“Ohh. I get it” San said in a sarcastic tone, slowing down again. That had you squirming when you felt the tight feeling in your core slowly fading away.

“N-no, p-please Sannie, nooo” you begged shaking your hips, trying to fuck yourself back on your boyfriend’s cock to find the same rhythm.

“You want people to know what kind of good whore you are”

“Yes, yesss. Exactly-fu-... Sannie please.” You would have agreed to anything he was saying to have him fuck you exactly like he was a second ago.

“Maybe you even want my members to hear you” San said with a smirk. “Especially Mingi I bet”.

At the mention of the name you stopped moving around, your brain flooding with the images of Mingi body rolling and dancing.

“Oh you just became tighter baby.” San said with a smirk. “So you do want him to see you” San said, fucking you even slower now. 

“Pleaseeee” you said in a breath.

“I bet you wished it was him fucking you right now” San said eventually completely pulling out of you.

“Noo… P-please” you whined quietly your throbbing cunt clenching around nothing, begging for more attention.

For the first time Mingi peeled his eyes off you to look at his friend only to be met with San’s wicked smirk. San’s smirk grew wider when he saw his fiery haired friend look back at him with big round terrified eyes. He knew Mingi was panicking right now; he couldn’t even touch his cock anymore. Poor weeping thing just waited there ignored while it continued leaking more precum.

“Say it, Princess” San insisted. “Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself” San cooed, leaning over you to whisper in your ear before leaving his place between your legs and gesturing to Mingi to take his place. 

For a second Mingi was completely frozen to the side. He didn’t know how to act. His brain was almost melting out his ears and he was in complete overdrive. But he shook his head and took a silent step in your direction then a second one and found himself right between your spread legs. He could have cum with just that, just looking at you from that angle just knowing that he could take you right there. But he waited. Immobile. 

“If you want more cock. You’ll have to say it baby” San cooed again in your ear and you faced a dilemma.

You didn’t know if you could really voice out your secret fantasy that way. San never struck you to be the jealous kind but still… he required you to say that and in this second, on the brink of your orgasm, your brain only soaked in sin and lust you couldn’t think of anything else than to be rammed again. You pictured Mingi again in your mind, you imagined what he would feel like inside you, what he would sound like, what he would look like. Fuck… you did want that.

“I-I wish it was Mingi fucking me right now” you said hesitantly but pushing your hips up, spreading your legs even further pushing your soaked and desperate little cunt in the air. 

“Good girl” San whispered, satisfied and gave a nod to Mingi.

Mingi’s heart was about to burst out of chest. The frantic muscle was rattling against his ribs and jumping in his throat then diving back in the pit of his stomach. He was all over the place. He couldn't believe it. He couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe he heard you say that. Saying out loud you wished another man was inside you instead of your boyfriend. And not any man. Him. 

You wanted him.

His hands were shaking when he grabbed the base of his cock, twitching as he approached it slowly from your core while you grew more and more impatient. 

“Pleaseee” you whined again. “I said it…. now please give me cock” you pleaded. 

As soon as Mingi’s tip touched your entrance you went completely silent and Mingi struggled to do too. When he pushed himself inside you he could have passed out. You were so welcoming, so warm, so tight, so wet. So good. Oh so fucking good. He progressed inside you very slowly earning a long stretched out moan from your end. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this way. He was the one pulling those beautiful sounds out of your lips. When he bottomed out he swore he had died and went to heaven. There was no other explanation. The way he felt could only be explained by faith. God was a woman. And that woman was you.

Fuck he needed more of this. He needed to feel you more, to hear you more, to see you more. He wanted it all.

He started to pump himself in and out of you faster, his hand struggling to find a place to settle, finally opting to grab the edge of the vanity. Avoiding direct contact with you, fearing you would recognize him. Rapidly he found himself fucking you (and himself) senseless, rutting his hips like a dog while San watched with a little satisfied smirk, thick cock in hand stroking lazily. 

Your mouth went agape. It felt so good, so fucking good to be finally fucked that deep that rough, exactly how you wanted, the tight feeling in your gut rapidly building up again. But it also felt different. The angle was different. It felt like San’s dick wasn’t hitting the same spot as usual, it also felt slightly curved upwards. And longer. And what about the hands, the touches? San always holds you at the waist, always stuffs his fingers in your mouth? Why wasn't he touching you?

In a flash you ripped the blind fold off your eyes and opened them. At first the bright lights of the vanity behind you blinded you for a short second. The first thing you saw was the tuft of dampened fiery orange hair. Then your vision cleared out and you saw Mingi right between your legs, sharp brows deeply furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line and smashing himself into you at an unbelievable pace. 

The shock you felt tightened your stomach and you came on the spot.

To see Mingi fucking you this hard, take so much pleasure with it and struggling to keep quiet while he fucked you secretly. You didn’t need anything more. 

“F-fuc- Min-gi” you whined as your legs tensed up and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your mouth agape.

“Y-y/n” Mingi whispered, his hands flying to your hips at that very second you opened your eyes, the many rings on his fingers digging into your skin and without a doubt marking you for the next couple of days. His strong grip grounding you into the vanity to fuck you deeper, faster, better.

You creamed around his cock, your back arched up, your pretty moans and your cunt fluttering around him took Mingi right with you to cloud 9. He couldn’t stop his hips from ramming into you while he delivered scorching hot ropes of thick cum right into your avid little hole. Spasming and twitching. To him it felt like your pussy was trying to milk him dry as he moaned your name a thousand times while bent over you until his hips became sloppy and he eventually came to a stop.

“Awww.” San said as he looked at the both of you disheveled and out of breath, both coming down from your highs. “You both came looking at each other. That's cute” But then he wrapped his hands around your jaw to turn your head to him. “But that made me a little jealous. Don't you think you need to make it up to me, darling?”

Mingi pulled out, out of breath you felt the hot cum running down your pussy and dripping onto the floor. San placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder and he switched places to join your side.

“Look at that?” San said, crouching down, inspecting your twitching little pussy. “Eventhough you were just fucked full of cum I can tell you want more, baby”

You nodded frantically at the idea of being filled up again.

“Please yes”

San pushed his cock inside you with ease. Mingi’s load providing the perfect lube.

“I slide right in, baby. ” San grunted. After all this teasing he found himself to be closer to his breaking point then he anticipated. “You got her nice and lubed up for me, man.” He sent a cheeky wink to Mingi.

You were just right back down from cumming a short while ago but you found yourself moaning loud for your boyfriend’s cock. It felt so good and soon you were begging him to fuck you harder.

“Please Sannie faster” you said.

“Of course princess I’ll fuck Mingi’s cum right back into your hole he said with a smirk to his friend before smashing himself in. He too was moaning like you were both alone not having a care in the world of what could have been happening outside the dressing room. And soon enough Mingi was hard again.

“Baby, your new boyfriend needs help over there.” San said between moans, drawing your attention back on Mingi again, as he was standing there idle, painful cock laying heavy in his balled fist.

“Please Mingi let me suck your cock” you asked looking right back up at him as your body was jolted up with San’s every move. You didn’t even let Mingi think about it for a second. Your lips instinctively found his beet red tip and you rounded your mouth around it. 

He tasted too good, you relished in the strong flavour and aroma of his cum mixed with your own nectar. It tasted sinful but oh so fucking right. This taste and the way his cock smoothly glided in your tongue made your mind go completely blank. Your tongue focussing on his tip between every come and go around his shaft to collect the precious salty precum you earned along with every grunt, every pant, every whimper from the tall man. You couldn’t have enough of it and you kept on sucking his cock. Relentlessly trying to get another load out of him.

Mingi felt so fucking sensitive right after cumming but it also felt so good.  His strong hand flew to your hair as he grabbed a big fistfull. Instinctively pulling on it to keep you from gobbling up his cock that still felt very sensitive, his moans went up in pitch with overstimulation.

“You’re a real fucking whore for his cock, arent you, Angel?” San asked as he landed a sharp and unexpected slap on your cunt. Making you pop Mingi out of your mouth to look back at your boyfriend again. The delicious sting made you arch your back.

“A-again pleaseee” you said through gritted teeth as San smirked and made your wish come true, slapping your eager little cunt again, making you clench around him harder, making him falter ever so slightly.

Mingi was now pumping his cock over your face, you heard as clear as day the squelching sounds of his spit and cum coating his cock as he stroked it right over you.

San was rubbing tight circles on your swollen reddened clit and ramming into you with all his might. You knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Sannie I’m gonna c-” another sharp slap landed onto your sensitive clit, making you cry out a whimper.

“Not yet, whore. Make your new boyfriend cum first”. San nodded his head in Mingi’s direction.

You were so far gone, mind, body and soul only filled with cock that you didn’t even catch how San referred to Mingi. You were ready to do anything for your boyfriend to finally let you cum so you turned your attention  back to Mingi.

“Please Mingi give me your cum, pleasepleaseplease. Want your cum all over my face.”

Mingi didn’t need more. It flipped a switch inside him to see you spread open by San’s cock but getting your undivided attention to beg for his cum like it was the most precious substance on earth. 

“Fuck y/n” he said in a strangled moan. “Want my cum huh?” the grip on your hair tightened, making the veins of his forearm pop.

“Yes yes yes yes yes pleaseplease” 

“Fuck you’re so good to me. Fuckkkkk… Y/n I love you” he confessed in a breath right before letting out thick ropes of cum that split your face in two from chin to forehead. “I love you I love you I love you” he chanted, both his heart and body finally letting out what he’s been holding back for years. The pleasure made his head spin, more cum crashing onto your nose and lips which you licked hurriedly to get the chance to taste him again.

“Good girl” San said, picking up the pace as he never stopped fucking into you. “You’re so pretty with all this cum on you. Your pretty pussy full of cum and your pretty fucking face too” he said his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Want another load, Princess?” he asked strong shoulders bulging out as he gripped your waist tighter, bruising your skin and joining Mingi’s ring marks. 

“Yes please cum inside sannie” you whined throwing your head back “Please I want your c-hmppph” your words caught in your throat when Mingi started to rub circles on your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. “Fuckkk” you cried.

“P-please… more… c-cum” you said, your brain completely tuning out to let your primal instinct take the lead. 

“Fuck baby I’m so close San said. 

“Me too.. I-” right at this moment Mingi lightly slapped your pussy and it was the last straw. You were pushed over the edge and Mingi continued to give little fast slaps to your sensitive clit, making you shake as your cum gushed out of you in translucent and powerful streams.

“Fuckkk I’m c-cumming” San said as he delivered more cum inside your hole, joining Mingi’s and mixing together. You completely lost your mind on the feeling of how full you felt while San was pumping another big load into you and Mingi was repeatedly slapping your pretty pussy then switching to quick circles again that gradually slowed down to a stop.

When San pulled out he looked at you with a warm smile that made his eyes into crescents.

“Isn’t she pretty like this?” he asked Mingi, who was looking at you with just as much love.

“Yeah, she is” he breathed out while you gradually came back to your senses.

“Should we make it official?” San asked peeling his eyes off you to look at his friend. 

“What?” Mingi asked, clueless.

“Well the three of us are together now.” San said before turning his attention to you again “Isn't that right, darling?” and you nodded.

“Well Mingi, next time if you want to confess in the middle of a fuck how about you take me out on a date before cumming on my face?” You said scraping the cum on your cheeks into your mouth and sucking on your fingers and San chuckled but Mingi protested looking affronted.

“Hey! You asked me to!”

a/n: i had so much fun writing this i hope you liked reading my babes <3

ateez masterlist | navigation

taglist: @jonghospookiedookie @ateezbbys @mingi-chilli-con-carne @walkingtravesty97 @staytiny816 @fancyglam24 @simpforateezforever @heyitsmetonid @acetruepunk @shineekrystalzzz @hwallazia @kierraperkins3 @seeoonghwaa @dawn-iscozy @miniminkis @itza-meee @bittersweetsparadise @oiminho @nebulousbookshelf @seonghwasbobaeyes @certifiedmoa @mulletjoonsupremacy @therealcuppicake @v-lvs-yungi @yourfatherlucifer @minkiverse @choisanboobenthusiast @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mustbeaweasleyginger (i tagged everyone that asked for part 2 hope you dont mind tell me if u wanna be removed)

[universalitgirlsblog2]

💗🍒CELEBRITY MANIFESTATION🍒💗

💗ARIANA GRANDE

Ariana Grande is a manifesting queen ! She made alot of songs on manifestation too - 7 rings , just like magic and successful. Ariana said how every single thing we think about ourselves or others , how we react to things and what we choose to think about , what you spend time talking about , it all plays part in manifestation . Her mom taught her that if she wanted something , she could have it and it was possible.

🍒SHAWN MENDES

Shawn Mendes had a book of manifestation where he wrote how he could sing high with no tension or how he sold out the Roger center, basically he used the method called " scripting ". He also recommended one to speak positive affirmations , for example , I love me . I feel calm and happy in my body .

💗BILLIE EILISH

When Billie was making music with her brother , her brother joked about how he will make her the biggest pop star in the world. Guess what ? Look at Billie now, she is so successful and popular. Everyone loves her . You speak things into existence. Joke about how you have your desires , don't make self-depricating jokes.

🍒MARILYN MONROE

She manifested her fame and beauty! Read this post - click me !

💗LISA OF BLACKPINK

Lisa dreamt of becoming a k-pop idol , a teacher said even though Lisa danced in the dance room , she acted like she is on stage. She imagined herself dancing on the stage , she acted as if she was already a kpop- idol who was performing on stage. She said that if we persist in our dreams , they will come true and we need to believe that we will become the one we want to become. I also made a post on how Lisa is a persisting icon - click me and I would also suggest you to read this post - click me.

🍒BRUNO MARS

Bruno imagined him and his band dancing and women screaming for him when he was doing interviews. He envisioned how he wanted his album to be in his mind.

💗LADY GAGA

Lady Gaga said that she repeated to herself everyday how " music is her life " " fame is inside of me " " I'm going to make a number one record with number one hits ". She said that you repeat the lie everyday and one day it becomes true. Like Neville said , an assumption through false, if persisted in, will harden into fact.

🍒BEYONCE

When Beyonce was going to perform on BT , in her mind she saw the set and she also drew the ramp.

💗ALIA BHATT

Alia Bhatt is an Indian actress. She believes in Universe has some way of making things happen.If she wants something like a film or award or health related , she acts as if it already happened infront of her mirror.

🍒KATRINA KAIF

Katrina said that if she wants something, she tries how she would feel if she already got it . She gets into the feeling of living in the end .

💗ANUSHKA SHARMA

Anushka Sharma had a turtle in her living room , you open the turtle and put your wish inside the turtle , when your wish comes true , you take it out .When she got her first movie and she called her mom to inform her and came to know that her mom put the wish in the turtle.

🍒ALEXA DEMIE

Alexa had acne when she was a teenager . She would wake up every morning and say - " I have beautiful , clear, acne-free, scar free skin " and the affirmation did it's magic. It worked.

💗TOM HOLLAND

Tom Holland said that he wanted to be spiderman .Believe it or not , you speak things into existence. He also manifested Zendaya.

🍒TAYLOR SWIFT

Taylor showed her diary she wrote when she was 13 and she wrote about her life , career , dream and reality . Basically , she did scripting too. In one of her old clips , she said that her dream was to look out into a crowd of thousands of people and make them sing the words in her song. She spoke her desires into existence. She also said that she knew shake it off was going to be a hit song and she wasn't wrong. Feel that you already have your desires and know it will happen . Don't question the how.

💗MEGHAN THEE STALLION

Meghan admitted manifesting her life.

🍒JANG WONYOUNG

Wonyoung knew that love dive was going to be successful and when it released it broke records and it is IVE'S most popular song. Know that you have your desires and they are yours !!

💗JENNIFER ANISTON

Jennifer said that to manifest you speak as it already happened. Manifest it , believe and know you will have it .

💗🍒I am sure most celebrities use the law even if they don't talk about it .Everyone is manifesting consciously or unconsciously. Why do you care if a random stranger does not believe in manifestation when there are rich and successful celebrities who believe in manifestation ? Manifestation is real. It's not black magic . Manifestation is nothing but you focusing on what you want and persisting in it. Your mind is powerful. You are powerful. You can have anything you want and be anything you want to be.💗🍒

[hwaightme]

Timezone

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🎸 pairing: rockstar!fiance!seonghwa x gn!reader 🎸 genre: fluff, long distance angst, established long-term relationship 🎸 summary: "Only thing that keeps us apart // Is a different timezone" - TIMEZONE by Måneskin; during a long tour, the only thing seonghwa wants is to come home to you, and to hold you in his arms 🎸 wordcount: 3.2k total 🎸 warnings/tags: not edited, language, songfic, enamoured simping activated, seonghwa misses you intensely, he is one step away from swimming to you, seonghwa has tattoos and lip piercings, lyricist producer musician rock singer hwa good luck to us all, words of endearment/pet names (baby, angel... etc) 🎸 taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 🎸 a/n: this is for @starrysvn the most wonderful, beautiful soul. thank you for being who you are, ilysm. and may this small manifestation of our shared delulus bring some sunshine~

There was no salvation for a heart that was on the verge of breaking. No call could replace the sensation of a lover’s whisper, no video could replace the feeling of skin against skin nor of a warm and reassuring embrace. The myriad of details that made you who you were seemed to be slipping through Seonghwa’s fingers, and he was a desperate man drowning in quicksand of responsibility and routine.

Every chord was a strike of the coldest and sharpest blade on his tired body, and the sweat trickling down his face as he yelled his emotions to thousands masked the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was unbelievable, how in the faces of millions the only features he could ever make out were those that resembled yours. In every cheer he could only hear you, how you could make his name sound like magic. The lyrics – a simple selection of syllables, words, always fell short of describing how he felt, and every song appeared trivial compared to the fire in his heart, to your existence in his life.

Too many miles separated you, and he would be damned if he were to say that he was fine with it. This was the unbelievable curse of his work. An artist, a singer, a musical innovator who had evolved from being in a group of hoodlums with a dream to being in a star-studded collective, a band that was paving the way for many others and inspiring loyal and new fans to reach the stars with them. But where was his star? Even when surrounded by the speakers, side by side with his friends on those grand global stages, this question never left Seonghwa’s mind. Losing sight of what he truly desired, he ran into an oblivion.

After the concerts, it was customary for the young man to spend some time with his fans, still on an adrenaline rush and thus were expecting interaction, further connection, and insights into the most recent performance. However, tonight, he could not even begin to find the energy to press the right button. Claiming that he was feeling a little under the weather, Seonghwa delegated the role of publicity man to another member and hobbled to his hotel room, collapsing onto the bed sheets not caring for the state of his clothes, his hair, nor for the creases that were undoubtedly going to form. This was no issue.

The electric guitar, his trusted comrade in composition and emotional turmoil, was left in a black case on the floor. Stickers marking the cities he had visited decorated a portion of the surface, while the rest was another depiction of you. Scurrying off the bed, he erratically shot to the case and brought it up with him, letting it rest by his side so he could admire the artwork more closely. Over many days, you had decided to surprise him by painting the dark leather, echoing famous renaissance pieces and intricate flora. Impeccable, incorporating nods to his and your lives through symbolism, be it in the hint of a star ship, a guitar pick, or a paintbrush hidden in foliage, it was a reminder of a life that he always wanted to live and to keep close.

He wanted to destroy the walls of his room. He wanted to break the glass, fight the agony of the sorrowful monster eating away at his soul with physically radical action, anything to take his mind away from the fact that you were thousands of miles away, and that when he was cursed to be awake, you were in dreamland. He could not even protect you from the nightmares that you sometimes had. He could not keep you close. You were unable to run your hands through his inky black, long and tousled locks as a way to calm yourself. Why was he doomed to sacrifice the heavenly touches and sweet words in favour of roaming the globe like a madman, screaming the same things into a microphone until they lost all meaning? Seonghwa missed you. Violently. Painfully. Aggressively. If it took raising hell to elevate him to your heaven before he would ultimately crumble, he would choose to do so in a heartbeat.

His hands inadvertently travelled into the pocket of his flared jeans, fishing out the device which he had been glued to for the full duration of his tour. At any spare second. Lockscreen – your smiling face, surrounded by the scenery of his hometown when you two went for a visit over the holidays. Tapping in the date of your birthday, he came face to face with a photo where you two were together – a candid picture snapped by his closest friend and fellow band member during a celebratory dinner; you two laughing at a joke shared between yourselves, so in love that every part of you and him were intertwined. Seonghwa wanted to break himself apart. Take his heart and mind out and douse them in cold water so that at least for a moment he could have some space to breathe before ultimately repeating: you, you you again. Fingers flying to tap onto the messaging app you preferred to use most often, though the two of you had conversations going on almost every piece of social media, he scrolled through your chats, relistened to the voice messages and scrutinised every photo until it was re-imprinted in his brain. As if he could ever forget in the first place.

He would likely be a laughingstock, wouldn’t he? A man with the world at his feet, wanting nothing more than to collapse at the feet of another. Sure, his fans were no strangers to the fact that there was ‘a special someone’ in his life, though since he made sure to keep his private matters truly secure, no one knew who was the reason why he woke up even when the day was promising challenge and turmoil. The only sign of his undying devotion that he dared to expose with shameless pride was the tiny red band around his pinkie, a simple line alluding to the string of fate, of soulmates. One night, not too long ago even though it seemed that you knew each other for your entire lives, when you had the chance to spend time together without worrying about work matters and could let time trickle past while stargazing, he proposed. Perhaps it was not traditional, the four words uttered only in passing after you had already blessed him with your agreement. Instead Seonghwa had suggested the permanence of a tattoo as a symbol for your love, and revealed his faith and devotion. Written in the stars, he found his guidance in you. Just like the constellations, galaxies and mythical creatures permanently etched on his skin, he wanted to live the neverending story with you.

As he shifted his grip on the phone to glance at the red band, Seonghwa could not help but imagine what you could be doing right this second. Could you be stirring from sleep? Could you be getting ready for another day at work? How was that one personal project you picked up going? He hammered out letter after letter on driven by what had to be an external power, so much mightier than him. The rockstar bit his lower lip, feeling a tug on one of the piercings, but that made him simply bite down harder.

I’m losing my mind.

Without hesitation, he sent the message into the void, hoping that you would not be too worried and simply accept it as one of his eccentricities as an artist. Finally, he tugged off the leather jacket that had been clinging onto his body, suffocating him, and collapsed back onto the bed. Exhaustion was a beast weighing down on him and pushing him into the mattress. Nothing but a lonely carcass, Seonghwa imagined himself as carrion left for the devouring by devious promoters, producers, agents and the like. Freedom was an interesting concept in his industry. Did he have it? Or was it the case that as soon as he gave into a dream, he signed his very being away to be an offering for the money-hungry world? He was definitely going mad. He needed you. Seonghwa missed you. Feverish, anxious, he grabbed a fistful of the duvet with his free hand and counted the passing seconds, too many of them, but not as much as the distance between where he was supposed and wanted to be, and where he currently was.

A loud ringing jolted him out of his paralysing ruminations – his phone. He rolled his head to the side, and upon seeing the incoming video call could not be faster in wriggling to rest on the headboard and answer. So you were awake, and in a couple of seconds… there you were, hair in a loose side braid, a familiar vintage t-shirt adorning your shoulders. You were at the desk – your home office, cradling what had to be a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Nothing. Just how you liked it.

“Hi baby,” you greeted him with the warmth of a thousand suns, and soon enough, his smile returned to him too, though still a little weak, beaten down by the weeks spent apart. It was still dark where you were, while for him it was already dark. It was easy to face when with you, however – nothing could be brighter than you.

“You’re wearing my old clothes?” Seonghwa could not help but ask, too curious to refrain from the inquiry. You looked down at the shirt momentarily before lifting your head and nodding.

“Yep. There’s been a change of plans so I am working from home today. And… I wanted to have a day-long hug from my fiancé.”

“You always wear them better, and I wish it were me and not the tee, angel,” he sighed, eyes trailing down what part of you he could see. He might be wrong, but you appeared to be a little tired, dark circles more prominent under your gorgeous eyes, and movements a fraction more lethargic than how they would usually be in the mornings.

“Is that what you were losing your mind over?” you attempted to lighten the mood, but Seonghwa could not play along when the joke was a reality. You caught onto this quickly enough, and paused to look at him more closely.

Seonghwa could feel the intensity of your inspection. It was as though you were reading him like one of the many books you had collected. Basking in the attention from his lover, he leaned further back onto the pillows and let himself think out loud.

“We have another flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, next is the third to last concert, right-”

“I want to fly to you,” the young artist cut you off, staring at nowhere in particular as he voiced his one wish.

“It’s not too long now, Hwa, and then we have a whole month to ourselves. No touring. Home.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love. But also, I am proud of you. You are bringing dream to reality-“

“Fuck what I’m dreaming. What does all of this mean anyways?” he retorted, making you raise an eyebrow before leaning onto the desk.

“All of this means that you are yourself. You are an artist. A light for so many souls. And if you cannot hear this, then let me remind you that I love you, the you who is so driven, so talented and so hardworking. Park Seonghwa who has been destined to become a star and give hope to millions. You are yourself, and that is what is so precious and iconic about you.”

You had a way with words. You always did. Stepping in when he was at his lowest and managing to drag him out of what he had assumed was an abyss, you were his biggest supporter, cheerleader, muse. When he was afraid to put pen to paper or deemed a melody worthless, you were the one to encourage him to experiment, try things out regardless, and with such strength that now it was a philosophy he abided by; it never hurt to try, and perfection was impossible. What was achievable, however, was satisfaction and happiness with the self. It was more than enough to try. And now, you were the one fearlessly bearing the catastrophic mass that was his worries with the last tour dates.

“Oh how dare you…” he mumbled, lips trembling ever so slightly as he pushed out the words. Involuntarily a mist settled over his eyes, and Seonghwa’s surroundings began to blur.

“No, baby come on, don’t cry, or we’ll be crying together. Let’s stay strong for each other, yeah? Like the dragon you have? Let’s leave the tears for later, and hopefully make the source of them a happy one,” you cooed, your own heart being torn apart as you witnessed your lover’s vulnerability, raw misery expressing itself as the hard exterior of a professional rockstar fell away. The hint at one of his many tattoos made Seonghwa’s mouth twitch into a tiny smile, an adoring gesture to remind your fiancé that you could draw each of the masterpieces from memory, having spent many nights tracing them with your digits.

“I-… Y/N I… I love you so much, you know that, right?” The confession turned query was choked, feeble, fragile, an offering made of the thinnest glass. One that you would protect with your life.

“Hwa, I love you too. So much…”

“Everything makes me think of you…” fatigue was evident, coating his vocal cords thick with a somnolent huskiness.

“Soon, you won’t have to remember me. You will have me in real time. Will you look forward to that for me?”

“Always.”

One topic, another, talking about nothing and everything at once. Trivial matters transformed into beautiful tales. In what had appeared to him to be no time at all, you had to rush into your first meeting of the day, while he was left a little less lonely in the hotel room continents away from you, with only his guitar and your reassuring love to keep him company. A hope, an excitement rekindled in his chest, bubbling up and flying across the bloodstreams into a tingling sensation in the fingertips, and a pleasant, hazy buzz in his brain. Caught between what had to be sleep and delirium, Seonghwa moved exclusively on instinct. In a few movements, he produced a tattered notebook and pen that had listened to his every confession and flipped it to an empty page before setting it down on the sheets.

Carefully, he took the guitar out of its case, and upon checking that it was properly tuned let a few notes hang in the air. The longer Seonghwa stared at the wall, the more confident he became in the fact that he could see you standing there in front of him, and as the words began to pour, it was you who he was confiding in. When with you, he was not afraid. When dedicating yet another song to you, he could not care less for the lack of rest, for how he greeted the dawn. He had a week until the last show, and he sure as hell was going to make full use of it.

The arena was silent aside from a few yells, before they too, succumbed to the suspense. The spotlights were almost blinding, and Seonghwa suddenly felt grateful for the fact that his image allowed for sunglasses. Elegantly perched on the bridge of his nose, they masked his anxiety as he adjusted his microphone, setting it back onto the stand while the rest of the band was exchanging glances and making the last checks before the grand finale, what he had decided would be the last ‘official’ song of the concert, and therefore the tour. Of course, the audience would ask for an encore. Of course, he would step right back out on stage to perform it – the act had already been planned in advance. But it was this song, one that he and his closest friends had spent night and day finalising, recording, even sending off to be made commercial, that would be his final word.

“Distance is measured in miles, and in how strongly you feel them. This is ‘Timezone’,” following the brief introduction, he momentarily shut his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. In that split second, he did not exist. He was not on stage, he was home. Seonghwa could feel your hand on his shoulder and could float in your perfume. This was no different to how he would play for you in the living room – anything you wished for, he would either perform or learn on the spot or even create. So, maybe, just maybe, you will be able to hear him now, too. And how he was calling out for you, and was counting the seconds until he could see you again.

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning

I'm coming home

Only thing that keeps us apart

Is a different timezone

A roar overtaking expressions of gratitude. With every bow the crowd grew wilder and wilder. Chants praising the song were unfathomably strong, and Seonghwa had no doubt that the videos would go viral. Would you see them? Would you message him after? He did not need the answers to these questions. Not when he almost dropped his guitar as he saw you standing backstage, arms open wide, a staff lanyard around your neck. He was thankful for how you did not mind his sweat-covered arms, his glistening forehead as he pressed himself against you. He was enamoured with how your lips fit perfectly together, piercings and all, as he planted one kiss after another, each one bringing him back to life. He was eternally devoted to every moment with you.

“I told you, soon, didn’t you?” He could not respond, instead choosing to nod lest he break down in the midst of his overwhelming elation, “same timezone…” you altered the lyrics – sunlight after a rainstorm.

“I’m home, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair before pulling you even closer to him, arms wound tight around your body, fingers dancing on your back as though he was still in disbelief that you were here.

“Welcome home, my love,” he leaned into your hand that reached for his face, letting you cup it. With nothing to keep you two apart, Seonghwa let himself get lost in your eyes, the string of fate winding tighter and tighter until his, and your heart were both glistening in a healing gold, the hints of cracks sealed and more beautiful than ever, standing the test of time, of space, of dreams.

🎸 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

enjoyed? please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. thank you, much love!

[99mrkie]

PAS DE DEUX - L.HC

Title - Haechan And Haerin.

prologue - "You're just jealous i got the talent and you have to work extra hard to keep up."

genre - ballet romance, slowburn ish, rivals to lovers, smut(?), tragic romance, kinda ansgty, not your typical rivals to lovers.

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The crisp morning air fills Haechan's lungs as he stretches before his early ballet class. His muscles strain and groan, but he pushes through, determined to give his all to his craft. The sun has just started to peek over the horizon, lending a soft pink hue to the Seoul below. Haechan takes a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of the dance studio to set any grogginess' he might have.

He knows that his rival, Haerin, will be there too. Their unspoken competition pushes them to be better, but it also drives a wedge between them. A sour patch in their relationship.

As he contiunes to stretch, the door to the studio opens with a soft creak. He doesn't have to look up to know who it is. Haerin, his constant pain to his side has arrived to the studio.

She's wearing the same determined expression that she always has when she enters the room, they both know that being the first one in the studio is a sign of dedication and hard work. Neither of them ever wants to be the last to arrive.

Without a word, they continue their warm up routines. The tension between them is palpable — but it's also laced with something else, an unspoken understanding of each other that neither one will say outloud. Their rivalry manifested due to being so similar, their immense passion to their work, they share the same dreams and goals. But on days like this, when it's just the two of them in a quiet studio, the air feels charged with something else, something that cannot be put into words.

Haerin glances up from her warm-up and smirks towards Haechan, who was across the studio. "Early again, i see," she says with a hint of mockery. "Finally trying to catch up?"

Haechan rolls his eyes but can't help but respond with a retort of his own. "I could say the same about you. Can't start your day without being beaten by me first?"

She snorts and shakes her head, stretching her arms further. "In your dreams, Lee."

Haechan gives her a smirk, his own stretch mirroring hers. "Oh, trust me, you're a regular feature in them. Usually, it's you losing ground to me."

Haerin huffs in annoyance, her competitive spirit flaring up at his words. "Please, i'm not the one who overslept and rushed in here late last week." Haechan laughs, an almost mocking sound at Haerin's attempt to insult him in any way.

"And i'm not the one who messed up that pirouette sequence last performance."

Haerin's eyes narrow, her gaze sharpening on him. "That was one time. At least i haven't tripped over my own feet on stage like you did two months ago.

He winces at that comment but quickly recovers with a scoff. "Ah, that. Just a minor slip. Adds character to my performances, you know?"

Haerin rolled her eyes, the smirk on her face tugging on her thin lips. "Oh, and here i thought you were all grace and precision. Turns out you're just clumsy."

The dancer gives her a glare from the sideline. "I'm not clumsy. I just experiment with new moves." He protested, but all he earned from the girl in front of him was an eyebrow raise. Haerin was not buying whatever excuse he can give.

"Is that what you call it when your foot slips and you crash into the wall in front of a full house?"

Feigning innocence on her face, Haechan's ears heat up in embarrassment, but he stubbornly refuses to let her get under his skin like this.

"It was one time. And everyone thought it was part of the show."

The ballerina crossed her arms over her chest as a chuckle escapes, her tone tinged with mock. "Oh, yes, because the started gasps of the audience and your awkward recovery were definitely a planned act."

He crossed his arms, again mirroring her posture. Stubbornly he held to his pride refusing to back down.

"At least i'm not the one who gets stage frights and forgets her steps. I've never seen someone freeze like a deer in headlights during an entire dance."

Haechan watches as Haerin turns away from him, her back rigid and her expression schooled into a neutral coolness. He knows exactly what she's doing - downplaying their argument and trying to claim the upper hand. He let's out a frustrated breath, his competitive nature ignited.

"You always do this, you know," He mutters. "Turn your back and act like you're above it all. Like you're so much better than me."

Haerin glances over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with determination. "And you always react the same way. Getting all riled up and defensive. It's like you can't handle the fact that i might just be better than you."

He bristles at her words, his jaw clenching. "Please. You wish you were better than me. You're just jealous i got the talent and you have to work extra hard to keep up."

The girl slants a quick scoff when hearing his words being uttered, she twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. "Talent is one thing, but talent without discipline and dedication gets you nowhere. You think just because you have natural ability, you can afford to slack off? Wake up, Lee Haechan, the world is bigger than that."

They stood on opposite realms now. Haechan can just feel his irritation growing more and more. "Don't lecture me about dedication and discipline. I've worked my ass off to get where i am. it's not just talent that brings me to the top spot. Maybe if you actually tried to push yourself instead of living in your own bubble—”

Just as Haechan was about to go on with his retort, the other students start to trickle into the studio. Their murmured conversations and footsteps breaking the tension, Haechan and Haerin are suddenly brought back to reality.

They abruptly broke eye contact, their faces returning to their usual cool expressions. The teacher enters last, a stern but fair presence that instantly silences the room.

Everyone quickly took their place, including Haechan and Haerin, their unspoken beef was still hovering in the air between them. But they push it aside for the craft of their own.

2024 ©️ @99mrkie please do not copy all rights belong to me.

[shakingparadigm]

fav alnst round so far? (mines is round 6 because i love pain and sorry to break it to you but I literally had no reaction when best boy ivan died.hes dead guys accept it.)

Favorite ALNST round... I'd have to say ROUND 5. The concept of the whole thing is just so spectacular not only in set design but in character dynamics as well. The despair and mockery that lines the whole thing is fantastic.

I particularly adore the way this round further connects the concept of death with the color white. The stage which Luka and Mizi perform on is fully white in color because it's built from the bones of an ancient creature, something of a memorial site. In certain shots, the spine of this creature is very clear. The whole area is ethereal and invokes not only a sense of reverence, but unease, too. It's haunting, almost hollow, and just like its origin, lifeless.

The moon that shines behind Luka is almost as big and bright as a white dwarf, a dying star that has exhausted itself of life.

And of course, the association with death is further emphasized once images of Sua appear.

There's something to be said about the fact that this stage is from the bones of an ancient creature, one that was respected enough for its bones to be repurposed in its honor. A deep reverence, worship, even.

It's painfully fitting for Luka to dance upon the remains of a creature so revered while he toys with Sua's image. A form of mockery, of disrespect, especially to the one who worshipped her. In both the literal and metaphorical sense, he tramples over dead gods.

It's important to note that in this round there are two performers but three participants: Mizi, Luka, and Sua. The feeling of death is something that permeates throughout the entire round because everyone involved has been forced to face it. This shared trait manifests itself as their most striking visual aspect: their white attire.

With the insight gained from Luka's relationship with Heperu, it's safe to say that Luka has experienced the feeling of death firsthand. He has quite literally died and then come back to life.

There's the factor of his purple fingertips, a result of his weak physical condition that keeps him on the precipice of life and death. Combined with his extremely pale complexion, his imperturbable disposition and obssession with heartbeats, Luka seems like a body on its way to a corpse, desperately clinging onto his last hopes of life. Staving off the coldness of death for as long as possible and monitoring his own body so that demise is confined to just the tips of his fingers.

Sua's connection to death is obvious. She has died, she is death.

A point of interest, however, is the fact that while everyone is dressed in white, only Luka and Sua share the colors of white and black. They both have these colors in their design, but in opposite places. The black of Sua's design lies on top of her white, while vice-versa for Luka as his lies at the bottom. It works exceptionally well with their state of their characters. Sua as the dead that crosses into the living, and Luka as the living that toes the line of death.

As someone who watched her god die in front of her own eyes, Mizi dons a gown of pure white just like the others. The difference is her second color, a light pink layer resting atop her dress.

Pink has associations with innocence and childishness, and in its more washed out and subdued state (light pink = pink mixed with white, innocence tainted by death) it's a perfect fit for the circumstances.

It's only during her aggressive outburst, when Mizi has death directly pointed at her that the pink layer begins to rip. Completely shedding her innocence, giving way to complete white. Dressing her for death.

Luckily, Hyuna arrives just in time (clad in black, life) to save her.

ROUND 5 has always been a complete masterpiece to me, and the more I think about it the better it gets. A dying man trying to stay alive, a white-clad widow and the haunting apparition of her dead god all performing this sick dance of death upon the bones of a creature who was exploited for spectacle and performance.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I sometimes picture stage 2 getting frustrated by the way the body seems to constantly need to move and fidget.

Like Dust and Horror could be yapping on about something killer finds uninteresting and so his mind starts drifting away, pondering other things, only to come back to when one of the others ask him to stop tapping the fingers.

And he wasn’t aware he was tapping the fingers. He doesnt know why he was tapping the fingers.

Is he going to stop? Nah. Their annoyance with him is amusing. (Even if Nightmare were to order him to stop, it’d still be difficult to actually do because the body just does it naturally. Doesn’t matter how many times the boss attempts to punish him for his “annoying, distracting movements.”)

I’d also imagine that Killer’s inability to focus or concentrate, especially when whatever the topic is doesn’t interest him, often tends to earn him a lot of irritation from the others and gets him in a lot of trouble with nightmare—who needs him to be “sharp” all the time, and killer is aware he needs to be attentive to nightmare’s moods, needs, wants.

I’d think he’d have a lot of issues remembering detailed instructions and completing tasks. Nightmare often needs to order him to get him to do something (which killer constantly has to force himself to remember to do and actually try to motivate himself to do), but once killer is hyper focused, any of the others disrupting his focus or distracting him tends to make it harder for him to do it again and he often just rushes through it. Making “stupid mistakes” that often end with him yet again in trouble with the boss or at the other end of someone’s irritation.

Because he struggles to remember long, detailed verbal instructions the others may even simplify instructions for him but it makes him think they are talking down to him, as if he is a child that they think is dumb and can’t be trusted to perform complex tasks or do simple things when asked to.

And also the idea of people thinking he’s annoying because he “talks too much,” when in actuality he is info dumping about his hyperfixations—or as he’d say, “this really cool thing.”

I’d imagine he’s the type to get easily lost in scrolling through social media and neglect doing the things he was supposed to do, which might even result in nightmare taking away his phone and not giving it back until he finds killer’s work satisfactory.

Which not only drives in the idea that killer is a child being punished, he’s also yet again being denied things.

Having his stuff taken from him. His phone is his connection to the outside world, to a sense of time, to his memories of his cats and color, his connection to color.

He places a lot of importance on the phone, it’s his. He even scavenged a lot of money to buy it himself instead of stealing it, color was very proud of him for doing that, he earned it. And yet still, nightmare gets to take it from him? Is it not his?

I don’t know I was thinking about how a lot of people seem to hc that killer has undiagnosed adhd, and I was wondering how that might effect his life and performance under nightmare; even how the symptoms might manifest across his different Stages. Feel free to say how yall think killer might be effected by it.

[iamthedevilsminion]

You mentioned you had thoughts on art in iwtv? Something about Louis and photography?

yes, i did! in this post, i had a brief aside about louis and photography in comparison to daniel. a quick warning, i'm pretty black and white about good and bad art in this, that's not something that works in life about art. for the sake of this though, bear with me.

art and vampires is a really interesting topic; almost all the main cast has some point of connection to the arts. marius and painting, lestat with acting and music, louis with photography, armand with directing the theatre. claudia and journalling. i'm going to count daniel's journalism here too, i'll come back to that a little later.

specifically, these are all ways to connect to the world around them, and almost all of them fail spectacularly. marius' works haven't really survived him, he is an unknown name among his venetian contemporaries. lestat is not perceived as being "a real vampire", instead someone running off the clout of daniel's book. louis is desperately trying to connect to the world, but the only "good" work of his portfolio is someone else's.

and a very specific aspect of their artworks are an attempt to mimic, capture, and connect to life and living. and even more specifically, they're all failing.

marius as a painter, had to stage his references. each painting is a facsimile of a staged moment. it's noted that his works are often references to other, more esteemed painters. he has the skill, but is missing the eye required. marius is only ever creating imitations. there is no connection there, no understanding. his work is beautiful, certainly, he loved his aesthetics and maintained them through painting, but it is, at the end of it, a failed connection. he isn't actually interacting with the world, with life and humanity, he's still locked away in his tower crafting an idea of life that he thinks looks beautiful to the eye.

lestat, as an actor, is always performing; all the world's a stage. there is a struggle for genuine connections because he cannot move beyond the role he's assigned himself. his interactions with humans is coloured by the the person he is attempting to be within those interactions, and it leaves him unable to be genuine. we get little flashes of him being honest, such as the conversation with louis' family in early s1, with big emotions, but there is always an element of public performance. when he becomes a rock star, his attempts at honesty are twisted on him because of the book. it's not the vampire lestat, it's lestat the vampire from the book interview with the vampire. it's twisted into another role to play. a chance at connection lost.

armand is interesting, as he's been the subject of paintings, never true manifestations of himself, but as a role, an aesthetic. then, of course, he also directs -- and sometimes performs -- at the théâtre des vampires. he structures the performance in the same way that he leads conversations. there is an ideal outcome, a way that allows the audience the best experience, that portrays the right themes. his interactions with everyone are played like this. he pulls the strings; once more with feeling. there is no connection there, he sees players, not people. even the way he hunts has a script; gentleman death. armand also seeks this in other people. i've spoken about it a lot here, how he tries to live vicariously through other people, and i think this is only exemplified by his attitudes as a director.

louis' photography is the most literal translation to completely missing the point of his form. photography is meant to capture moments; there is something about photography as a medium that works so well in a connecting with humanity and life. to take a photo, and make the moment live forever. however for louis, it isn't. the best shot he captures in the show is a moment of vulnerability from armand, a spur of the moment shot that does successfully capture him. but he captured an immortal, his subject is going to live forever. and he walks each night looking for photographs to take. his camera is up at all times, he is not living in the moment, not living life. he's put a literal barrier between him and the world at large.

another little aside, but there's also something to be said about the way louis views art, as a dealer. he isn't viewing artwork for arts sake, he is looking at it for profit, and i think this is also a big tell about how he views the world.

daniel is an interesting aspect of this. he has spent his life succeeding at connecting with life. looking for stories about people who have slipped through the cracks. he knows people, how they live, how they love. he's seen the worst and best of humanity, and how complicated people are, and i think that while he has a distance between him and his subjects, there is a connection there that the others cannot make. this makes his transition into vampirism really interesting; will he maintain this level of connection? will he keep living? can he?

[ckret2]

Hi! I think I found a typo in this chapter "makes it hard for him to relate to other..." I assume you meant "others"

I hope Gideon's parents don't mess up his childhood anymore than it has been. I think his friends would be able to help him out more than his family :( Maybe Bud should work at the alpaca farm too.

Do you think Gideon chose to open the tent of telepathy himself? Or has Bud been pressuring him into making money from the start? I think it could go either way depending on how the bolo tie really works. He'd still be pressured into stuff in a way though which sucks.

Not a typo actually, it was meant to be Joy trailing off mid-sentence: "makes it hard for him to relate to other [kids]," but she petered out mid sentence and switched to a statement that makes it sound like it's not Gideon who's at fault, it's the other kids ("And honestly, I think most of the children are jealous of his talents"). I might could edit that to make it clearer that that's her trailing off.

Even though she's the more passive parent, and even though she's clearly afraid of Gideon's temper, she's still one of his enablers. And one of the ways that manifests is in blaming other people for Gideon's failings.

Honestly I think establishing the Tent of Telepathy was little of both. There's a mention in the previous chapter of Gideon starring in his dad's car commercials when he was younger; I think that's how he got his start in the spotlight and learned how to weaponize being cute, doing stuff like this:

When he got the mystic amulet, it was a natural progression. First Gideon starts using it for "magic tricks," maybe to impress other kids; next his dad goes "now that's something, can you do one of those tricks in our next commercial?"; next the commercials turn out to be a hit, so Bud gets the idea to do live shows at the dealership—lure people in to see Lil Gideon do magic, then try to sell them cars while they're there.

And so far Gideon's having a blast with it, he's always been pretty comfortable with the commercials because it's just what their family does and doing the magic shows is fun.

But it accelerates from there. At some point, other "tricks" get incorporated into the show, starting with your garden-variety cold reading, then escalating to spying, and that takes over as Gideon's main act. Now he's not just a clever child stage magician, he's a child psychic. The shows become popular enough that it occurs to Gideon's parents that he could make real money off them rather than just using them to advertise cars—and like, Gideon's a kid, making money from performing sounds exciting to him, he sees no downsides.

Maybe Gideon starts getting some serious attention at that point. Maybe a TV station from Portland does a little feel-good news story about this small-town child psychic; maybe he gets invited onto a local talk show; and that's when the idea of the tent of telepathy and/or touring comes up.

At this point, Gideon's probably been around the amulet enough that it's started to corrupt him—now he's getting hungry for the power and influence his new celebrity gives him, now he's the one going to his dad saying he wants to do even more shows and bring in even bigger audiences. But that only speeds things up. Without the amulet, Gideon might have gradually gone down that path by himself; and his dad, certainly, would've kept looking for opportunities for Gideon to perform as a child psychic so long as Gideon still seemed like he was having fun with it.

And that, I think, is the saddest part of it: at the start, Gideon was having fun with it. Bud wasn't thinking "I can make money off my kid," he was thinking "wow, my son has a talent. He could be rich and famous before he's a teenager. If he's really lucky, he might be set to retire before he's an adult and the whole family will be financially comfortable; but then if he wants he could keep on performing as an adult. Think of the possibilities! Sold-out theaters! A permanent residency in Vegas!" And even though Bud acted as Gideon's agent, i figure his mom felt the same way.

A parent whose kid REALLY loves gymnastics might get them a gymnastics coach, send them to contests, and if they keep winning, help them train for the Olympics. A parent whose kid REALLY loves singing might record them singing, put their videos online, start talking to agents about helping their kid record an album if some of their videos go viral. Bud's kid REALLY loved performing for an awed audience and all the attention and admiration it got him, so Bud set up more shows, arranged for him to start touring, got a tent, produced merch...

Kids who eagerly dive into Olympic training for a sport they love often have it take over their lives, and when that dream is passed—you're not in Olympic condition forever—many don't know what to do with the rest of their lives and regret pouring everything into one obsession. Kids who go into the entertainment industry for a talent they love are entering a world where the talent is very frequently abused and exploited and everyone's scrambling to try to make a living, and children are even more easy to exploit. A parent can support or even push a child toward making their talent a career, and genuinely think they're doing their child a favor; and it can still be terrible for the child. AND it can still slowly creep into the parents themselves exploiting their child as it becomes easier and easier to just live off their income, even if that wasn't the initial plan.

And by the time Gideon was arrested, his parents had poured so much into his budding career that they need to restart trying to bring in a sufficient income outside of that.

Gideon's career wasn't awful & exploitative from the get go. He was an active participant, he understood (insofar as a child could) what was being asked of him and what he was getting out of it, he liked it, he wanted more. At the peak of the amulet's influence on him and during the months after it broke when its effects still lingered, he was calling the shots, he was in charge. And it's not like the amulet was mind-controlling him; that was Gideon at his worst, but it was still Gideon.

To an extent I think his parents still feel like he's calling the shots. Seeing your child as your breadwinner is a messed up position and somebody needs to shake some sense into his parents, but they didn't end up there deliberately. Like boiling a frog, they ended up there too gradually to notice.

[poraphia]

"A Heart-Shaped Necklace."

heartbroken!wilbur x newlywed!reader 1971 words • 8.11.23 cw ~ unrequited love, heartbreak, depictions of vomiting. Reader uses she/her pronouns! wilbur soot masterlist

I was going to give you a heart-shaped necklace after a gig in Paris, but you met your future husband, and it wasn't me.

♡♡♡

“Will, seriously, we don’t have to do this, mate.”

I clutched the brim of the toilet seat. The bottomless pit in my stomach served me no good other than throwing up what little breakfast I had this morning. My temples pulsed as I could do nothing but kneel over what disgusting mess I’d created before me. I shook my head, exhaling a shuddered sigh. 

“I promised her. I promise we would perform…” I mumbled in a croaky voice. With what strength I could muster, I reached over to flush the toilet before standing up with wobbly knees. To prevent myself from stumbling I leaned against the stall’s wall, backing up a bit to unlock the door and to face my band mate. 

There stood Joe. The man that agreed to ditch our previous band to start Lovejoy. The man that has seen me through every breakdown and tear to my heart when I would catch a glimpse of her face at my shows. The man that has been with me through thick and thin. He gave me a half-hearted smile, but it wasn’t enough to hide his furrowed eyebrows and eyes glossing with concern.

“Will–”

“Joe, please!” I begged. I brushed past him and made my way toward the sink, washing my face to fight back the nausea. “I just– want to be there for her, okay?! I want to give her the most perfect day possible. I want her to feel like– like she’s on top of the world! And if performing for her and–” I choked on my own words, stumbling in my nonsense. “H-her fucking shit husband.” I propped myself on my elbows, staring at my reflection before looking at Joe. “Then fucking fine! I don’t even give a shit about him?! I care about HER!” I shouted, slamming my fists onto the marble counter. “ITS FUCKING FINE!”

But who was I kidding?

I put my head down, clenching my jaw to avoid any sobs that would’ve dared to escape my lips. Joe, with careful steps, approached me, placing a hand on my back. My quickened breathing started to ease down. However, that painful ache in my chest that felt like boulders pressing down my body remained. If the weight were to suddenly manifest in front of me, with open arms I would’ve accepted its crushing embrace, accepting the sweet release of death.

Yet here I stand in the bathroom with my bandmate and friend crying over what loss I had no way of preventing.

I’ve loved (y/n) since our first gig.

We had been friends for a while before that, but I distinctly remember telling her that my first performance will be the next day, and within the same hour, she called off of work and made plans to drive all the way to Brighton to come see me. Once she made it, she brought us cold bottles of water and showed nothing but her undying support.

When we had finished the performance, she ran up to me, and with open arms I engulfed her in the biggest hug, mumbling bits of gratitude in her ear as she exchanged back with praises. I felt like the happiest man on Earth. Nothing could strip away what joy she brought me for she has seen me through scrapped lyrics and broken guitar strings. 

I planned to confess to her on stage.

It was envisioned perfectly in my head. After our performance in Paris and the stage had been cleaned out, I would ask the stage crew if I could borrow the set for another hour. I bought roses, a mini stereo for us to listen to our favorite music, and a golden necklace to profess my love to her.

And oh, how I imagined her smile.

I was so giddy that day too. My heart was dancing in my chest and my energy reflected it like a mirror. I woke up early before everyone else despite the jetlag. I had the widest smile on my face each time I would brush my hand against my pocket, and there rested the velvet box which I shall present to her later. I told my bandmates my plan over soundcheck and they all cheered me on. There was not a single doubt she would say no.

That was until during the concert.

In the midst of me performing consequences, I searched among the crowd to find that face. That gorgeous face that would never leave my dreams. Eventually… I did find her. My eyes widened as I looked over to Joe, who caught the same sight as well. My heart, once pumping a lovesick melody, came to a stop and dropped onto the floor below me. There she was, with hands wrapped around the neck of a man I’d never seen. Their faces were just centimeters apart as those lips I only daydreamed of kissing were parted just for him. It felt like the world around me stopped moving, and despite the screaming crowd in front of me, I was only listening to an ear-ringing screech and my heart beating in my ears.

Painfully, I strained out,

“I’m yours. I’m yours! I’M YOURS!”

I liberated my pain and anguish in the final verse of The Fall. Thousands of fans screamed and cheered for me, but I was only met with lonesome. I looked over to (y/n) who was now clapping and cheering as well. The man still wrapped his arms around her.

I smiled at her, and she smiled at me back.

I didn’t dare to face her after the show. As soon as I left the venue I buried myself into hotel blankets and pillows as if this grief was pinning me down by the neck, choking me into this mattress as I lost all strength to get up. The next morning Mark noted that she was looking for me, but I shook it off. 

It took me a while to even face her again. When she asked me what happened that night I lied through my teeth and told her I was sick for a long while and didn’t want her to get sick either. It took persuasion like a lawyer to convince her, but she accepted it in the end.

I took in a sharp inhale, and looked up to meet Joe’s gaze. He looked over at his watch. “We’re going to be going on in ten. Are you ready?”

I looked back at my reflection, squeezing my eyelids shut to blink away the tears. Every breath I took felt like a shudder. My voice only came out in weary croaks. But still, I stood up straight and looked back at Joe.

“Give me five minutes.”

With what sanity I had left, I freshened myself up by washing my face and pressing down my suit and tie. After some soft encouragements to myself and convincing myself that I look fine, I pushed open the door and was again met with the dim-lit reception littered in white floral decor. People were happily dancing under the shimmering disco ball. Friends and family were laughing with one another at different white rounded tables topped with bouquets. Chefs were working promptly as they dished out all sorts of fresh foods for the ravenous guests.

But what stood out the most was the bride and groom, (y/n) and Jared, sitting at a long white table by themselves. They smiled at each other lovingly, holding each other’s hands on the table with their new golden bands wrapped around their finger. I bit the insides of my cheek, having to rip my gaze off of the couple, and headed toward the small stage where we were placed. Mark and Ash exchanged worried glances at the sight of me.

“Will, are you—”

“I’m fine.” I quickly muttered to Mark. I looked over to Joe. He checked his watch before nodding toward me. Ignoring the worried exchange of glances from my bandmates, I tapped on the microphone, grabbing the reception’s attention. The DJ ushered down his music.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, we are Lovejoy.” I spoke in a low voice but forced a smile as I talked. “I’d like to, uh– congratulate the bride and groom over there. Hi guys.” I slightly waved to them as the guests cheered. (Y/n) grinned at me, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach. I looked down at my mic, determined to keep my focus.

“I’d like to especially thank (y/n). She’s been with me since we started this band, and I– I couldn’t be more thankful.” I looked back at her again, and there she was. Her stunning white gown was decorated with rhinestones. Her hair was styled beautifully, flowing gingerly with the soft AC cooling the venue. Her lips were colored subtly with a shade that matched her gentle skin.

What was missing was a pretty heart-shaped necklace that was supposed to be given to her after a performance in Paris.

I cleared my throat. “We’re Lovejoy, and this is Call Me What You like.”

I spent the next twenty minutes with the band as we performed various songs from our different EPs. My heart slightly ached with each song I shouted into the mic, knowing that most of these songs' meanings have changed over time. A breakup album dedicated to the United Kingdom? More like intense jealousy of wishing to get in between my friend’s healthy relationship because I’ve longed for her more than anything. 

We were nearing the end of our performance, with our last song “It’s all futile, it’s all pointless.” A song that she loved even before the band began. A song that she would ask for me to play when she used to visit my apartment. A song she asked me to teach her as she sat between my legs with her back pressed against my chest and I would guide her hands and fingers from behind. I closed my eyes and talked through the lyrics. The noise soon started to drown out. No longer there was an audience in front of me with guitars and drums to accompany my vocals.

I was back at my old flat, and there (y/n) sat on my couch as I sat on the floor. I was smiling up at her with fingers pressed against steel strings with my thumb rhythmically strumming down.

“We’re getting to your favorite part.” I noted. She giggled, kicking her legs.

“I know!” She beamed.

“Ready?” I asked, scooting closer to her. She nodded. With voices harmonizing we sang the final run of the song. I couldn’t help but stare at her. How she closed her eyes while she sang. How she fiddled with a pillow in her lap with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed, concentrating on getting the lyrics perfectly.

My only wish in this world is to drink in that look once again. To have a moment like that again.

I felt the tears pricking at my eyes as the memory fades out. The music and crowd crashed into my senses, and soon enough, I was back at this dreaded venue. With what passionate rage I had left, I belted out the final words. Her favorite part.

“Eat my rent!”

”and eat my food!” Her faded voice echoed back.

“And eat my dues–! 

“and eat those kids!” I screamed out the last words, straining what little voice I had left, letting the tears roll down my cheeks and onto my blazer. The band riffed into intensity as I felt the inside of my pocket again, the box still there. The guitars, the bass, the trumpet, and the drums, all halting to an end–

I looked up and smiled at her.

“And maybe use a sextant.”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ angsty hehe. this is my fav fic so far. reblogs are appreciated :D!!

[knight-princess]

The way that magic in Willow is tied so deeply into belief is so well done, and I love how Elora and Willow walk similar but different journeys with it. The way that, at the edge of the world, above the waterfall, they reach their lowest points, the breaking that is the province of the shattered sea, the last hurdle. Willow’s, “I’m just a farmer who got lucky,” summaries perfectly the self doubt he has always struggled with. He has it within him, but he takes the wind out of his own sails and second guesses himself, right from his first impulse when he himself took the finger test. When he has confidence in himself, he can do great things. The ‘magic’ that saves baby Elora, the disappearing pig trick, works precisely because he sells it, performing it so confidently even Bavmorda believes him. It’s all about confidence. But even that very success undermines him, because he feels he can’t live up to it; it adds to his fear and self doubt, that everyone thinks he did incredible magic. But he did; the confidence is the key, the true miracle. If he believes he is the greatest sorcerer that has ever lived, he is. And Elora, “I don’t want to be Elora Danan,” Elora reveals to them, at her lowest point, atop the waterfall. “I just want to go home.” Acceptance and belief in herself are her hurdles too, but manifested as her fear of taking up the role and responsibility of ‘Elora Danan’, a mantle with much weighing on it, as the woodcutters in episode three illustrate, and the threat of the Crone and the Wyrm who don’t just want her dead, even before you get to any responsibility being empress will set her up for. And she tries across the series; her promise to Willow, to study and practise hard, she lives up to. But her true block is deeper than correct pronunciation of spells. Elora tells Jade in the Mines of Skellin that the closer she reaches for the magic, the harder it seems; the more she thinks she understands it, the further away it seems. “I grew the eckleberry bush,” she tells Willow. “Which was apparently amazing.” The way that yes, she did grow it, but it sprung only after she’d been taken away, so she didn’t even know it had grown at all because she didn’t see. Kit tells her; even in episode four, Kit’s belief in her helps her find her belief in herself. And what she does isn’t anything she’s been taught. The way she ‘kisses’ Graydon, pulling the evil out of him that way, was all her. Her trust in her own ability, her own magic, feeling it, tentative as it is at this stage. “It’s not that you don’t have the power,” the Crone tells her. “It’s conviction you lack.” And therein lies Elora’s problem: she puts so much effort into learning, but the magic was always within her. She needs to accept who she is. She can practise all she likes, but while she does not accept her role and her nature, there will always be blocks. Willow tells us to believe in ourselves. That we have to be brave. Magic as something you are, not something you do

[ashthewaterghoul]

Everything's Fine - A Copia One Shot

Everything was fine. That’s what Copia told himself at least. Or, I got way too excited about Copia canonically having dissociative issues and wrote this as a more detailed version of his perspective throughout RHRN.

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen, Copia & Imperator (it's completely platonic mother/son stuff I swear)

Tags: Angst, dissociation, derealisation, Copia needs a hug, author is projecting, author does not care.

Words: 1813

A/n: This was definitely better in my head but I couldn't help myself. I have dissociation issues myself (mostly DPDR) and seeing Copia struggle too made yap and ramble and this came about! Any feedback or comments are welcome and appreciated!

~~~

    Everything was fine.

    That’s what Copia told himself at least.

    He’d seen the signs but his mind wouldn’t have it. Everything was fine, apart from his own doom, it felt. But he knew his own mother would never permit that, right?

    It didn’t matter now, he had a Ritual to perform. Adoring fans screaming his name, the crew waiting for him to give the cue to start Imperium. There were a few new things tonight as well. The skeleton dancers, the quartet on the B-Stage, that new lighting rig for Watcher In The Sky, Twenties for the first time and If You Have Ghosts for the first time in a while. Stressful, but it’s fine. Everything was fine.

    Kaisarion was going as amazing as always, an explosive opening to an explosive show. Copia did his usual of running backstage, his Ghouls deserved the spotlight. Sister was back there of course, looking as great as always. Kevin had been keeping a close eye on her recently, wonder what that’s about?

    That didn’t matter, he had to get back on stage. He got to his mark and everything was fine. Rats, Faith, Spillways all went great and his bat wings were waiting for him for Cirice.

    “It’s going great now, innit?” He shouted to Imperator.

    She was on the other side of the backstage area and wasn’t hearing him. So he went over.

    She’s in a wheelchair. She’s getting weaker. Her pills are all laid out for her with water to wash it down. She never could swallow tablets dry.

No, everything was fine. She was comfy in her high-back chair, her favourite tea and biscuits next to her. She had a blanket because she didn’t have the warmth of the stage lights on her like he did.

    Her bones grow weary, the chill seeps in and her heart won’t warm her up.

    He left for the stage and heard something shaking behind him. Was Swiss or Cirrus back here with their shakers? They should be on stage! Yet they were. It wasn’t more pills…

    She’s dying.

Read below the cut or on ao3

No, she’s watching the show. Maybe she just wants to join in in her own little way and borrowed one of the spare shakers.

    He got to his mark for Cirice and everything was fine. He chose a lovely person by the barricade to sing that iconic chorus to. He remembered when Terzo originated the idea, how excited he was. He missed his brothers; it took a long time for the reality of their passings to settle into Copia’s bones.

    Even when their bodies were paraded around for the fans. No, it wasn’t them, they were just dressed up mannequins. They would come back any day soon because this wasn’t real. Everything was fine. It took Copia a long time to draw the line between reality and what he manifested it to be. Even still, he hoped that one of them would interrupt his Mass, walk into the dining hall and lovingly kick him out of the Papa’s seat.

    He went back to take his bat wings off, no doubt Phantom would steal them later when they thought he wasn’t looking, and Ashley fixed his hair for him. Stubborn thing always ended up with a cow-lick. The reflection of the mirror was interesting.

    It’s an IV drip, she needs these infusions now.

Maybe it’s some new cool thing where you drink from a bag. Swiss showed him the bags in those boxes of wine, maybe this was the sober version.

    The first lyrics of the next song almost betrayed how fine everything was.

    “Ever since you were born, you’ve been dying.

    Everyday, a little more, you’ve been dying.”

    But that’s just a song. No one’s dying. Not the Ghouls, not him and not his mother.

    She will.

    Ritual’s chorus also sought to ruin the peace he wanted for the night.

    “Smells of dead human sacrifice.”

    No one’s getting sacrificed, thankfully.

    She sacrificed everything for you. Just be there for her now.

No. No one is dying.

    He went backstage again and donned his sparkling blue robes. Sister helped design these, so proud of her son and bringing him to the spotlight he deserved from his Emeritus blood.

    Her life’s purpose complete.

    He went back to take his mitre off and Sister was fine, everything was fine. He got his thurible and went back out. Con Clavi Con Dio went by perfectly, the lick of incense wormed it’s way through the air. It reminded him of Sister comforting him when he had a nightmare. It never used to make sense to him why she would pick up so many shifts in the orphanage when she had so many duties.

    He changed again for Watcher In The Sky, and Sister tried to tell him something, Nihil too. He thinks anyway. His mind was as foggy as the rig ascending from just above Mountain’s head. He could make out eyes, no words. Nothing. Where was he?

    “Go, go!” Sister urged him.

    Copia snapped back in and left for the stage. Watcher was fine, he gave his hat to Ashley and jumped into the crate to take him to the B-Stage. What was that thing the light was reflecting off by Sister?

    It’s the IV, for those infusions she was just telling you about.

Maybe she finally watched Star Wars and bought a lightsaber, maybe she finally watched the films like he’d told her to do for years now.

    He was being taken away to the B-Stage, and of course his father shows up. Slightly less fine but it’s okay. He’s already dead, there’s nothing to worry about there.

    She’ll join him soon. The Great Beyond calls her.

    “Listen and obey your mother.”

    Say goodbye while you still can.

“You don’t get it. Just listen to her for my sake and try to do it.”

    No. She’s not sick, she’s not dying.

    “For the new guy.”

    You’re going to take over. You inherited a title from your father, now it’s your mother’s turn.

“Right.”

    No! Why did he say that? Everything’s fine. Nothing’s happening.

    If You Have Ghosts went fine. Well, more than fine, those Ghoulettes are amazing. Chills all around from their gorgeously haunting talents. The speech he gave was one he was quite proud of. He didn’t know where it came from, he just knew he needed to assure his fans.

    Listen to what you say. It’s your life. Your ups and downs. You’re allowed to be sad about your mother, you’re allowed to enjoy your show.

    Twenties was amazing, the dancers too. Dewdrop’s solo, everyone hit their marks. And he went back for his black robes. He got to his spot for Ashely to meet him and looked over to Sister Imperator.

    She’s in her wheelchair because her chair that supports her joints is back home. Her IV is there, she’s taking more of her pills. She’s looking paler and paler each song. She wants you to know she’ll be okay but you keep refusing her. Refusing the truth. She loves you, let her be your mother this last time. Be her son while you still can.

Wait, why do his clothes feel different. He’s in his robes? When did that happen? What’s this on his chest? He picks up a cross. And drops it back down. Inverted only please.

    Just like how you invert reality.

The flame mortars were, thankfully, fine and went off on cue, just like he did to hand his Cornette over to Ashley. He looked over and Swiss was switching his guitars, Rain was taking his jacket off. It was fine.

    Sister she was… being seen to by a doctor, in her wheelchair, another IV linked up.

    She’s getting worse, and fast.

No, she was in her nice chair with her tea.

    Look at her doctor’s face, she knows Sister just needs to be comfortable now.

The doctor was rubbing her arm. Sister looks grave, staring at Copia.

    Copia willed the fog in his head to stop. For reality to come forward. He felt like he could feel every fibre of his robes yet none of them at all. He could see Sister clearer than clear and yet there was two of her, blurred and dancing around. What was happening?

    He Is. That’s what’s happening, he can deal with this later.

    Later, she’ll be gone.

    Miasma, he almost dreaded tonight because of course they would choose the middle of the show to have some family intervention. It was too mortal for Copia. He couldn’t bear to listen, yet the fog was gone. Sister in her chair and IV, her pills and wine as clear as day.

    His mind was on autopilot during Mary On A Cross. He wasn’t sure what his body was doing because all his mind could see was how it ended for his parents after that show in the Whiskey-A-Go-Go. In the cartoonish fashion of the shows he would stay up and watch with Sister. She would be scolded for it by the Sister Superior of the Orphanage, but both would promise to do it again.

    At least Mummy Dust went fine. No issues there, not his growls, the canons, nothing. Well, his shoe broke, but that’s easy enough to fix. Just Respite On The Spitalfields to go now.

    You sung it yourself, nothing ever lasts forever. Soon, she will go softly into the night.

He’s not doing an encore. He’s going to have a night out, maybe drink a bit with Sister. She had her wine goblet before, maybe it was a new red she had yet to introduce him to.

    Sister called him over, talking him into it. For a shocking moment of clarity, he saw his mother as she is. Ill, weak, begging for her son’s understanding.

    “Okay.” He told her, grasping her hand for dear life.

    Kiss The Go-Goat, Dance Macabre with the dancers again. It went great. He ran back for his red jacket. And saw his mother and father.

    “Right here, right now.” He said. And he was, high on adrenaline and everything feeling so good. He could see the chair, but he couldn’t focus on it.

    “See you on the other side, son.” Sister told him.

    The other side, when he returned, took him away. They all waved him off as he floated off in his balloon. Safe. Away. Disconnected. He was free. Soaring in a different realm to the others where it was just him, he didn’t need to hurt here. So free, so far. He could see Sister staring at him, something was wrong in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t like heights, Kevin was helping her down the stairs after all.

    It’s funny, Copia would think later, how much of an illusion his mind carefully structured for him to hide from the pain. Yet, it all came crashing back down so quickly.

One shot master list can be found here!

[masochist-marmot]

I hate the Naoto gender discourse

TW: transphobia, gender dysphoria, Naoto Shirogane

First of all, I think it's entirely valid to read whatever you want into fictional characters. Art is meant to be interpreted and to evoke something in the audience, and while it's useful to consider the author's intent, it's just as valid to interpret the text on its own.

In Persona 4, the intended reading is this: Naoto is and has always been a girl who wishes to be taken seriously in her male-dominated field. She confuses these feelings for identifying as a boy, and it's up to our party to set her back on the straight path and accept her role as young woman. Rise is incredibly eager to chastise this "young lady" immediately after learning about the reality, and throughout the game we are helping her to be more comfortable with being a girl. This is quite straightforwardly what the text is saying.

How many fans (me included) see the text is this: Naoto displays signs of gender dysphoria and struggles with their gender identity. Even after you have talked them out of a literal gender-affirming surgery (performed by a mad scientist, because why not make it extra scary to boot), they continue to present as a boy. During the rest of the game as well as Naoto's social link, you and your party can continue to push femininity on them. They're forced into a swimsuit contest, where they refuse to show up on the stage, and Yosuke says he knew it would happen. If you want to date Naoto, you have to pick the options where you tell them you like them as a girl, even though you get more social link points if you say their gender doesn't matter. This implies that Naoto is more comfortable with the way they present now, but feels that they have to present more feminine if they want to date you (which sounds like heteronormative bullshit to me). It's probably not difficult to see why this would make some players uncomfortable.

Now to the point of this post: There's a big (or just vocal?) portion of the fanbase that will call you media illiterate or delusional if you bring up your discomfort with how Naoto's gender was handled. And I can't stand it. As I demonstrated above, I know what the text is saying and have a problem with it. Media literacy isn't just about recognising what is being said, but also why it's being said. And Naoto's character arc displays well intentioned ignorance and heteronormative values at best, and malicious TERF-like ideology at worst. I'm inclined to believe it's the former, as the game and the series more widely don't seem to have a malicious intent behind them, although they certainly have other uncomfortable parts (I could make a very similar post about Kanji).

So why do so many people have an issue with the trans Naoto reading? Well, in games like these, players tend to form strong emotional connections to the characters. I'm guessing that for a lot of people it's important that their waifu is, well, a waifu. (I'm personally too pan to understand this and will advocate using "waifu" as a gender neutral word.) I'm sure some of it is annoyance with the notion of the interpretation contradicting with canon, which is apparently law. People feel like you're projecting something onto the text and not getting the intended meaning. Which feels like a weird point, since everyone is projecting some of their own feelings onto any text. And then there's your good old transphobia that manifests as a myriad of rationalisations (including the one about canon being law). I usually try to understand where people are coming from, but some people can't be reasoned with.

I don't have a conclusion, I just had to get this out.

TLDR; Stop bullying people who choose to view a character through a different lens than you do, and please practice your empathy and critical thinking skills.

[greenqueenhightower]

Anon back again with more rumours/leaks from twitter to make (un)substantiated claims🫡

Okay so one of the people that went to the premiere in NYC was answering some questions also in regards to Alicent. They said it is implied that the first sex scene we see between Alicole is not the first time they have sex, but they made clear that the implication don't seem to be that it was something that happened pre-Viserys death. Which would put their relationship starting after 1x09 and before 2x01. That would make sense to me.

This also lines up with some other leaks I heard where they said Alicent and Criston's first scene of the season was a sex scene, so it is more an established thing that is happening. The same previously mentioned leaker replied in regards to Alicent's character that mainly she seems confused, which we know as she is looking for a sense of self.

Some people theorized that the large number of sex scenes (3 rumoured for first two eps) and the fact that Alicent's story seems to start there in s2 (also Olivia mentioning sexuality as something that is explored) could be written as hypersexuality as a response to her trauma manifesting after Viserys' death. Others theorized that it could be comphet and her figuring out sexuality in a place that is so deeply repressed. It could also simply be that she is having sex because she wants to (good for her) and then because it happens during B&C that the guilt of that is so great she simply represses it all again and the relationship falls apart after that. In any case I can see various routes in which this could be explored in a way that makes sense for Alicent's character.

Now for Criston's character: we saw some leaks and early reviews (watched either ep 1 and 2 or 1 through 4) saying that he gets more "bitter" as the season progresses and would become "the most hated character on tv". Now I take the second one with a grain of salt because people tend to dislike him way more than for example dae/mon who is uhm worse idk. But the common conception seems to be that he gets worse as the season goes on. So seeing as ep 1 starts with Alicole together and then B&C happens at the end of ep 1 start of ep 2, it seems like they skip the getting together stage and instead show the falling apart of this relationship. This would make sense if they are paralleling rhaenicent (as Ryan said) because at the same time dae/myra also seems to be slowly breaking apart.

For now to me it seems this relationship is mainly to show Alicent's headspace she is in of being confused and feeling purposeless. An Alicole rift after B&C as a result of this would make sense and would leave Alicent even more alone (save my girlie). We'll have to wait and see. Also glad you like my thoughts I'm just spitballing here and honestly need the episodes immediately.

Thanks, anon, for keeping me updated! 💚

Okay, actually the idea that Alicent and Criston consummate their relationship some time after Viserys' death and before the Dance of the Dragons sounds good to me. Again, I would have liked to have seen the entire pathway of their relationship that culminated in that, but hey--as long as it is well-written I won't mind.

Your comment about hypersexuality manifesting itself as Alicent's post-traumatic response to her marriage is very interesting! I also see it as a manifestation of agency in the sense that she no longer has to be summoned to perform a sexual act upon request, but she can seek it and want it herself. It most definitely can be comphet too, because she is not as free as per Westerosi patriarchal and heteronormative standards to contemplate and realize any relationship apart from the norm.

When it comes to Criston's character development in S2, your theory that the writers might have Alicole parallel Daemyra to showcase how the Dance has devastated all kinds of relationships: familial, conjugal, erotic, etc., is quite plausible. Watching Alicent and Criston's relationship suffer to the point of breaking would be heart-wrenching but angsty and spellbinding at the same time. I just wish we get to see more of them together before that happens.

And as for Alicent's battle with guilt and her quest for agency and self-worth, I am all for it as long as the show does not victimize and wh!rify Alicent. I assume that Alicloe will break up after B&C, but will at some point get together again (maybe after Aegon is injured at Rook's Rest?). And for all the time they are apart, I hope we see more of just Alicent crying and being miserable and Criston being ruthless in war and battle.

[all-of-her-light]

Aqua, Guilt, and Gorou

Let's set the stage. It's Chapter 50, in the middle of rehearsal for Tokyo Blade, and Aqua is trying to learn emotional acting from Kana. She tells him that in order to portray a moment of joy from his character, he should remember times when he himself was happy.

And so Aqua begins collecting his happy memories. (Perhaps meaningfully, all of the ones we see him recalling are from the past few in-universe months.) It's enough to put a smile on his face, and even make him blush a little as he looks back at Kana. But then –

An apparition of Gorou in Aqua's mind berates him for enjoying himself when he couldn't save Ai, and Aqua begins to have a panic attack. As the next chapter opens, Aqua leaves the rehearsal session to go rest, but Ai's death and the Gorou apparition haunt his dreams:

This is the first time we directly see Aqua struggling with guilt over Ai's death. Of course, Chapters 11 and 12 show that he's strongly motivated to prevent Ai's tragedy from repeating with Ruby, and in Chapter 26 we get a hint that he feels some kind of responsibility for Ai's death:

Guilt and self-blame are conspicuously absent from Aqua's extensive monologuing about Ai's death in Chapter 10, though. I think the in-universe explanation for that would have to be something like "the idea that Ai's death was in any sense his fault is too painful for him to even consider so soon after it happened" – and maybe that was Akasaka's intent, or maybe Aqua feeling guilty just wasn't part of his plans yet. Either way, though, as of Chapter 50, Aqua's guilt is very much present and here to stay.

Notably, Chapters 50 and 51 are also the first time that the manga plays with the idea of a Hoshino twin's past life as a separate entity from their current self. (For instance, Aqua has always referred to Gorou in first person in his inner monologue, and likewise with Ruby and Sarina.) I think it's clear that Aqua is not literally being haunted by Gorou's ghost here – for one thing, Crow Girl strongly implies in Chapter 75 that Aqua's soul is Gorou's soul – but the split does make sense symbolically and psychologically for Aqua. After all, Gorou was an adult who took on the responsibility of caring for Ai and helping her achieve the family life that she wanted...

...and when that life was ripped away from her before his eyes, it's understandable that he'd feel like he ultimately failed her. But Aqua Hoshino, who was only three years old when Ai died, is someone who obviously has no business feeling guilt like that, and indeed no one holds him at all responsible for Ai's death. So Aqua's guilt manifests in his mind as Gorou, his past life standing in the way of him properly living his current one.

After Chapter 51, we next see the Gorou apparition in Chapter 55, just before Tokyo Blade's opening performance. Aqua prepares for the show by staring at a picture of Ai on his phone and recalling her death, reaching the verge of a panic attack – and summoning the apparition.

Here, Aqua reciprocates the apparition's practice of referring to him and it as separate entities. (Which makes this the first and only time as of Chapter 136 that Aqua internally refers to Gorou as a separate entity, if it counts.) Even so, though, the guilt that the apparition embodies is intermingled with the emotions that Aqua consciously experiences:

And why is Aqua practicing calling his own trauma to mind like this? So he can use it for emotional acting, of course. (Pretty messed up.) We see the fruits of this in Chapters 64 and 65, when Aqua's character has to react to the apparent death of the one for whose sake he fought, and Aqua himself is in about as much turmoil. But this encounter with the Gorou apparition – the final one of the arc – goes a bit differently from the others.

This time, Aqua refuses to separate the apparition from himself, instead recognizing it as a manifestation of his very own past trauma. Correspondingly, the apparition's form as Gorou – an identity that Aqua has left behind – dissipates to reveal Aqua as he was in the immediate aftermath of Ai's death. Aqua still maintains some conscious distance from those feelings, represented by his current self existing separately in the scene and handling the narration – which makes sense, since he's trying to control the feelings for acting purposes. But they're nonetheless his feelings, and he takes advantage of that to fuel his acting.

Also notable are the apparition's own words here, which frame Aqua's revenge as an obligation that he has no right to be happy before fulfilling – presumably because of his failure to save Ai. Aqua's revenge quest, it seems, is motivated in large part by his guilt; making himself miserable living only for revenge is an attempt at penance, and all of the blood and suffering that he intends to extract from Ai's murderer is an attempt to repay Ai for everything he let her lose.

And then Chapter 68 happens. One of Aqua's DNA tests has revealed that he and Taiki Himekawa share the same father. Taiki's father is Seijuurou Uehara, who is dead. Which means Aqua's father is dead, and avenging Ai is no longer possible. Right?

That's certainly what Aqua chooses to believe. Because if avenging Ai is no longer possible, then it's no longer obligatory, and Aqua doesn't have to make himself miserable anymore. He's finally free to do the things that make him happy without being crippled by guilt about how he should be obsessing over revenge instead.

Also, since Aqua is no longer bound to penance for Gorou's failure to protect Ai, thoughts of Gorou's life don't demand nearly as much space in his mind now. There's really only one loose end from his past life left to tie up:

Of course, the corpse that Aqua wants to find is Gorou's. He stops looking for it once Akane points out that the "pet's corpse" is probably either buried or scattered – but when she stumbles on it later anyway, he's very grateful to her:

By the way, it seems like Aqua means it when he says he always wanted Gorou's corpse to be found. This monologue of his echoes one in Chapter 7 of all places:

And as it happens, on the very next page, we see Aqua ask Ruby about her past life – a conversation which swiftly ends as follows:

In general, it seems like Gorou wasn't a very happy or fulfilled person, so it's not surprising that even aside from carried-over guilt, Aqua is motivated to forget about his past life in favor of his new one as a young person full of potential. I'm inclined to see his desire for Gorou's corpse to be found as at least partially a desire to symbolically say goodbye to Gorou; to see Gorou confirmed to the world as dead and laid properly to rest.

Speaking of carried-over guilt, Chapter 75 reveals that Gorou was at least implicitly made to feel guilty by his maternal grandparents over his mother's death from giving birth to him. And then in Chapter 78, when Aqua is talking to Akane, he blames himself for her having seen Gorou's corpse even though she ended up finding it by chance. He even claims that he tried to manipulate her into finding it for him when Chapter 75 pretty clearly shows him giving up on it being found. Akane comments a couple times in Chapter 78 that this behavior is typical for him:

So it seems like the Takachiho arc is intentionally establishing "feels guilty and responsible for things that aren't really his fault" as a general character trait of Gorou/Aqua, stemming originally from how Gorou's grandparents made him feel about his mother's death. (Chapter 122 takes this trait significantly further by portraying Gorou/Aqua as so guilty about being unable to save Sarina that, despite suspecting Ruby was Sarina, he spent his whole life as Aqua in denial of it. Please forgive me if I smell a retcon.)

Let's continue with the story now. Aqua spends about a year in-universe believing that Ai's killer is dead – but then in Chapter 95, Ichigo points out to him that Seijuurou Uehara died before Ai moved to the apartment where she was killed, and the DNA test doesn't eliminate the possibility that Uehara isn't Taiki's biological father. Aqua begins spiraling, and we see the Gorou apparition confront him for the first time since Chapter 65. Alongside it is a separate apparition taking the form of young Aqua; it seems to embody sadistic hatred for Ai's killer while Gorou embodies Aqua's guilt.

I think the logic behind the two distinct apparitions is this: the reason why these feelings manifest as apparitions separate from Aqua in the first place is that they're egodystonic feelings that he doesn't want to feel, and as of late he's been trying to avoid feeling both his guilt over Ai's death (Gorou) and his hatred for her killer (young Aqua) for the sake of leading a normal happy life.

Aqua now consciously believes that he cannot pursue revenge and be happy at the same time, but he struggles with which one to choose. He comes to Akane for advice in Chapter 97, probably hoping that she'll tell him to forget about revenge – but instead, she tries to deal with the culprit herself behind his back. He catches her, though, and reveals that he's made his decision:

And when he says he's going to hell, he may not be exaggerating. His renewed pursuit of revenge is much more directly self-destructive than before; he deliberately pushes away Akane and later Ruby as well, consciously intending to die or at least ruin his life in the course of revenge, and not wanting his loved ones to suffer when it happens.

(For what it's worth, this is not the first time we see Aqua consider dying. There's also an instance in Chapter 10, though that one is framed more as Aqua just feeling completely lost in life without Ai.)

Aqua's renewed revenge is also somewhat more consciously sadistic than before, I think; despite knowing the culprit's identity, he puts off killing him for the sole purpose of executing a plan to make him suffer as much as possible (see Chapters 99 and 108). Granted, that plan was one he came up with when he was little (Chapter 108), and wanting the culprit to suffer was always part of his conscious motivation (Chapter 13), but just as often he'd state his goal as simply killing him (e.g. Chapters 10 and 52). Black-starred Aqua, however, displays a level of intent to make the culprit suffer while alive that was previously only the territory of the apparitions from his mind's dark corners.

Speaking of the apparitions, all of black-starred Aqua's talk about going to hell and making Ai's killer suffer and "I've thrown away the naive thought about being happy" (Chapter 108) seems like it should be right up their alley, but after Chapter 95 (and as of Chapter 136), they're nowhere to be seen. I think this is because Aqua's guilt and hatred essentially won the battle for his ego that occurred in Chapters 95-98; they now manifest directly in his thoughts and behavior instead of as apparitions. Black-starred Aqua consciously believes that both he and the culprit deserve nothing but suffering for their roles in Ai's death. It's Aqua's desire to move forward that's marginalized in his mind now.

Perhaps relevantly, in the panel after Ruby bids Aqua farewell in Chapter 106, Aqua himself appears as a black silhouette – just like the Gorou apparition in several places in the Tokyo Blade arc. And then in Chapter 122, when Aqua has discovered Ruby's past identity and is trying to convince her to stop worrying about revenge, this exchange happens:

It's possible that Aqua here is mentally "being Gorou" or speaking as him only as a reaction to this specific situation – but given everything else we've talked about here, I can't help but suspect that this reflects a stable feature of black-starred Aqua's self-concept. Black-starred Aqua thinks of himself as Gorou, the man who failed Ai. "Aqua Hoshino" is just a mask that he's been wearing – once to hide from his responsibility, and now to fulfill it through his revenge plan. He doesn't deserve to sincerely call himself by the name that tempts him with a chance at a happy life.

@aihoshiino points out that Aqua has been acting somewhat awkward around Ruby since the mutual past-life reveal (e.g. in their talk in Chapter 132), and theorizes that part of the reason for this is that Ruby is now seeing Aqua as Gorou, but Aqua doesn't want to be Gorou. Given what I've been theorizing here, though, I think Aqua's discomfort is more precisely because Ruby is seeing him as Gorou and loving him for it. From Ruby's perspective, Gorou is wonderful and it's wonderful that she's been reunited with him. But from Aqua's perspective, Gorou let Ai die. Gorou is a failure. Gorou doesn't deserve Ruby's love. (He doesn't want her love in a romantic sense anyway, I think, but he feels he doesn't deserve any kind of love from her.) And he feels especially bad because he's letting her love him regardless for the sake of the movie revenge plan, which eventually involves his destruction. He's using her for a purpose that she'd never agree to and that will leave her heartbroken if it succeeds – even if he believes that what she loves is a lie.

[marsti]

the feedback i've gotten in calling the 14th doctor age regression is mostly people agreeing with me but also a few people saying "wouldn't it make more sense if it was 11? he's more childlike than 10" so i feel like i have to clarify my thoughts a little more here. get ready for some genuine analysis to justify a joke i made.

i specified that i think this is time lord age regression, because i don't think it'd manifest in the same way for them. their stages of life simply don't go baby -> child -> teen -> adult, each regeneration is functionally a different person with their own thought processes and dominant personality traits and that's their stages of life.

i don't think it would make sense for 13 to regress to 11 because 11 is a fakey fake fake. his whimsy is performative. 11 is a man who's done the work, understands his feelings, but refuses to process them so he's still a little mentally ill with it. that's why everyone who is or has ever been a lol so random emo groks him. if anything he WISHES he could be an age regressor, he doesn't like that he has to have the complicated mind of an adult. but he fully drops it at the end and reveals he's always been a grumpy old man underneath it all, and then literally regenerates into a grumpy old man.

that's decidedly not the mental framework 13 was working off of at the end of her life. she was confused and crushed by guilt. what was supposed to be a new start for the doctor after 12 finally worked through their feelings and re-discovered what being The Doctor means and took responsibility for their actions? tough luck sucker. everything you thought you knew about yourself was a lie. half of the universe is dead. it's your fault.

to me this is very close to the mental framework that underpins everything about 10. a man who had lost his main coping mechanism (rage) and was now forced to actually confront the guilt he felt, a man who was just so so so very sad. someone who was just so... lost, and alone, and fucked up in the head. desperate for someone to understand what he was going through. and genuinely a little silly with it too! it's all very teenage-like, to me.

14 has a lot of that, and especially in wild blue yonder you can really see how much he wants donna to remember what it's like to be him. he wants someone to LITERALLY read his thoughts, because he craves understanding but doesn't wanna talk about it. the words wouldn't come out anyway. i also think that the ways 14 differs from 10 are interesting, because he's not an exact copy. it really feels like the doctor wanted to go back to before all of this happened, they don't want to be changed. they don't want to be affected. but they were, and the only way they can cope with it is to pretend to be 10 again.