#its sort of giving the sort of energy he puts out? the persona he plays out to the imperium and the pirates and their allies/adversaries

[thedeadthree]

back again... 🎵🎵 + vharion?

OF COURSE DEAR WELCOME BACK 🥀☺️✨ ! EEEK THATS MY SWEETIE BOY <3 thank you so much again dear!

OCS AND SHIPS + SONG ASKS

🥀 — VHARION ARCTERYS of ZEBES

ZEAL & ARDOR — zeal & ardor

one with the fallen // don’t call what you can’t kill, now // son of the crawling // but the salt is already spilt, child

SPACE MONKEY — placebo

don’t let me down // like you let me down before

and for u a bonus track 🥀

SONNE — rammstein

[pb-dot]

I was trying to get through all of Fantasy High: Sophomore Year before Junior Year dropped and I'd probably have succeeded, hadn't it been for the final episode being no shorter than 5 hours long, so I'm finishing up the final episode of SY now before getting started on the new season. As usual, I have Thoughts. SY spoilers below the cut.

First off, the format. The live stuff is fun, and it gives some of the wilder episodes like Pirate Brawl a real electric energy. The tradeoff is, of course, that combat is a bit harder to follow, but I wasn't really noticing before the final, multi-part curse-breaking apocalyptic brawl. My Dyspraxic ass had some trouble following that one, but considering how much went on that's perhaps to be expected. It'd be pretty rad with models, but I suppose the fan art artists of the world need some epic scenes to recreate apart from all the exquisite emotion in play.

Because oh boy are there a lot of fun emotional stuff. Well, I say fun, but I suppose I do mean "occasionally devastating" by that. Kristen's quest for a theology that makes any sort of sense to her continues, but it hits a bit less hard this season for me, probably because it feels very Main Quest Component-y to me. It's a good component of the main quest, even though its existence as part of the plot does perhaps make it less of a mystery than I think it could be.

Now, where the hits land and don't stop are more in the wheelhouse of Fig, Fabian, and Adaine. Fabian, in particular, goes through the wringer in the middle part of this spring break adventure. Although it is both compelling and fun, I did find myself wanting to reach through the screen and say "Brennan Leeanathan Mulligan, you stop putting that boy in Situations right this INSTANT, that goes for you too Lou." There is, however, no denying that his arc is resolved pretty dang well, and gives Fabian a bit of depth that his "comically out of touch rich swashbuckler boy"-persona might have lacked earlier on.

I'm also equal amounts impressed and intimidated by the gumption to go as deep into the "Adaine's biological parents are pretty damn bad" hole as they do, especially because it did perhaps feel like they were holding back on that a touch in season 1. Gloves are off for Sophomore Year though, these elvish assholes are abusive, and the mask comes off in a major way, perfect for punching with custom-made magic spells.

Riz also feels like he has come into his own in a major way this season. I always felt like he should've had a more leading role in S01, as the one most directly involved in the central mystery from the word go, and that there were pits of character development and anguish yet to mine. I don't know if it was a conscious choice to leave some of that unprobed, or if Riz simply drowned in the maelstrom of strong personalities that is the Bad Kids. Fortunately, Murphy and Mulligan Mining Co. brought their good pickaxes out for this particular outing. Working the season's mystery and his slight sense of alienation from his fellow Bad Kids, Riz is a nexus of cool plot threads. One of these threads even genuinely bamboozled me with a misdirect, which is easier said than done in an Actual Play show.

As for supporting characters, Fantasy High continues to be a provider of interesting folks. Garthy O'Brien and his ward Ayda Aguefort are instant favorites, and Fabian's new bogeyman Chungledown Bim is perhaps not a sterling example of characterization, but there's no denying the gravity of his scrungly presence.

Overall, I feel like the show does get a tiny little bit Days Of Our Lives with the Bad Kid's parents/guardians. It's not a terrible flaw, but I do feel that it puts me in the shoes of Riz a little bit as I go "Welp these people are NOT normal about getting their kisses in, and that's worrying" and try to keep my relationship charts up to date and accurate. Seriously, I do not care much to know who's smooching on who in the adult segment of this story, even when it raises the baffling question of who would be romantically interested in the world's (second) most divorced man, Gilear.

Oh, and I suppose I should talk about Gilear a bit too. He's in this considerably more than S01, as he has the dubious honor of being the players' Favorite Guy of the season. At first, his inclusion seems mostly to be to enable him to Eeyore his way through further humiliations, but honestly he ends up actually being a positive presence in the plot. Granted, he keeps getting into increasingly unlikely predicaments whose sole purpose is to inconvenience or humiliate him, but Fig putting her nose to the grindstone to help the man rediscover whatever scattered fragments of confidence he has left is honestly really sweet.

There's oodles more, I could probably talk about how incredibly sweet the romance between Fig and Ayda is for hours, and the way Brennan weaves the themes of the show in between genre mainstays and conventions with a dexterity that never ceases to surprise me, but I'm sure I'll get to that at some point. Now I gotta do what I actually started this marathon watch for and get started on Junior Year.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

just some funny little characters my friends and i are playing with

Tenshii (the blue haired one) is determined to do whatever he can to save as many supernatural creatures from tragic fates as possible~ he died and was brought back wrong and we decided he can just have litterally any problem you want to project on him and thats what he came back wrong as <3 its very fun <3 he suffers <3 hes trying desprately to pretend hes okay and he took on this angelic persona to help rpevent his friend snad loved ones from worrying about him and one day he will collapse if someone doesnt stop him <3 he wants to be perfect and okay no matter what and its hard on him! The girl has no name yet but shes a vampire and a video game developer and she will usually be fairly kind for a vampire but if you say no when she asks nicely if she can feed on you shes just going to hunt you anyways its really a mtater of do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way, she cant really afford the energy to not hunt a human once shes caught them. She does however have standards for what is and isint acceptable to do to a human shes hunting. She isint really very morally sound despite this. Shew ill absolutely psychologically play with someone making up some elaborate cafe meet cute slow burn romance with someone just to drink their blood and run. She and Tenshi bond both over their shared love of video games and he thinks he can fix her. theyre meant to be unhealthy- The idea of this art peice is "pov you were just about to be hunted for food but this fricking weird guy named Tenshii just showed up and interupted it and the cute vampire you were talking to is going to throw a tantrum"

the concept arts a little weird but ehhh i tried-

i think they turned out cute : ) they're meant to be interesting counterparts to each other- the gold thing on his head is actually a golden chain of some sort i think, attached to his headphones? thats the idea at least.

(headphones for reducing sensory overload-)

He had a different name before he went by tenshii but im not sure what it was now. and no spreading hate just make your personal blorbo to play with- tack on your OWN headcannons about them dont go telling people what they can and cant think about these characters okay? if you want you can, swap their gender or give them chronic illnesses or decide they should dress like a victorian gentleman, do what you wish- theyre like, blorbos for blorbing. As long as you dont sell art of them or other stuff of them without my permission and understand i own these characters just have fun, if you make anything or come up with headcannons and stuff please share them! :D id love to see them and so would the rest of the group chat! they live in like, a modern day world :) but fantasy things like vampires and werewolves are real though not widely accepted and generally are actual threats to the public and being one such thing is considered something akin to a curse/illness though the opinions vary per person feel free to play in this space with us we made them to play with them like lil dolls so feel free to put them in situations : ) just make sure to credit and tell me so me and the others in the group chat can enjoy it <3 theyre made for fun~ a little more info: The characters are all like, early 20's right now, theres a whole little organization for helping the supernatural that tenshi is a part of, vampires unafilliated with any group and has almost no friends and she got turned during the victorian era. the vibe is 'clearly anime inspired' the age is fairly modern maybe slightly further in the future. magic is real etc.

Not that i particularly expect anyone TO want to do that but like i gotta cover my bases- hope you like them! :D we've been rotating themmmm

[rolyat-insonia]

Sup, this isn't really an idea, but more of an explanation of how the possession worked in my idea list. I thought you might be interested in reading it!

Prelude: How the possession my outlines worked

I have noticed that a lot of people are a bit confused on how the possession here works, so I wanted to clarify it with this little addendum of sorts. My version would have Vanessa initally black out occasionally for the first month or so after her initial possession. They would happen more specifically when she has her therapy visits. This is also where GlitchTrap/Afton attempts to rewrite her childhood memories to include an abusive father figure (presumably like him) to try and make her more obedient.

This is contrary to Vanessa's actual childhood, which was fairly standard and had 2 normal loving parents. It should be noted that in this universe they died in a car crash the year before the events of Help Wanted. All the therapists would play along as a way to diagnose her (or something idk) before eventually telling her that her memories don't line up with what her patient report sheet (or whatever they use) says about her childhood.

This gets rid of all the work Glitchtrap puts in and Vanessa original memories come back the overwhelming shock of which causes her to freeze up, and during this time she blacks out and Glitchtrap takes control of her and kills the therapist. He would then get her back to her apartment where she would regain consciousness and be none the wiser to her therapists fate. Controlling Vanessa directly takes a lot of energy from Glitchtrap and tires him out since he isn't intended to "control" humans just be manipulative. This is why he can't take direct control of Vanessa and has to resort to attempting to mentally gaslight her.

This happens 5 times before Glitchtrap says "screw this" and decides to create Vanny. He doesn't really want to do this, as he will be creating a different persona. This persona will be "programmed" to be subservient to him. However there is always a risk that since they are effectively their own person, this seperate personality can decide to not listen to the instructions correctly or do them their own way. They can also have their own goals that conflict with Glitchtrap's (something that you see in idea 6). He doesn't see any other way however, and is getting impatient and wants to start being evil again quickly. So he creates Vanny out of his own agony power thing and some of Vanessa's emotions. He uses ones that are still hurting from her parents death, duplicates and then corrupts them beyond all recognition.

Vanny is "made" (for lack of a better word) to control things directly, unlike glitchtrap. As such, the experience is now completely different. At her last therapist visit, Vanessa is forced to watch herself kill someone for the first time, starting off the worst 6 months of her life.

I hope that cleared up some confusion. If it didn't, let me know!

so you think vanessa is both patients? i always thought it could be a new character for the dlc, but split personality could be fun to play around with, its also a popular idea that i dont mind getting behind.

also the memory thing kinda helps with whatever confusing crap the were doing with those dvd, calling her dad bill- wth was that mess.

with how little the game gives you youre kinda forced to make your own law, i dont mind i have fun reading

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

i’m in love with a stripper

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: mature warnings: strip club environment, suggestive themes (no actual smut tho) gender neutral stripper!reader x hawks. afab implied but can be read either way.

your job was to look good, feel bad, and entertain. in the most literal sense.

life as an ‘exotic dancer’ wasn’t nearly as glamorous as movies and shit made it out to be. your body ached constantly, you had nearly fought about 4 people in the past two weeks, and you came home in the morning smelling like alcohol and sweat and some random cologne. the pay wasn’t amazing on its own, so you had to rut yourself against old men to pay your rent.

and yet, it was addicting in a way you couldn’t exactly explain. you had wanted to work in the entertainment industry since you were little, a star up on the big screen. this was sort-of similar. you had eyes on you at all times, and it was your job to put on a great show. but instead of red-carpets it was party favors and gross back-room carpeting. 

it was good workout, and you knew you looked good enough to taste, so that was always a plus. tonight, you were all dolled up, one of your more femme looks. your shorts were riding low on your hips, yet still stopped so high on your legs that it could be considered more of a belt than a pair of shorts. your thong straps framed your hips, bright red in comparison to the blue jean shorts. you had a red bikini top on, and a crop top that was yet again just another shred of fabric framing it. your shoes were red and tall enough to make you feel like you were on top of the world. 

you had gotten used to the sashay and drama of all the bullshit presentation, perfected your sultry stare, and polished your pole skills. yes, you could use work. but so could everyone, it was an art that you were still constantly trying to learn more about. 

so as you walked your way out on stage on a busy friday night, you could tell that tonight would be a good tip night. first off, there was MUCH more security than normal, which meant that someone important was probably in attendance for some kind of ‘special night’. they got bachelor parties and birthday parties all the time, but usually they weren’t this… guarded?

 it was strange, but you instead focused on feelings the rhythm in your bones as you strutted your way up to the pole, starting to go into one of your choreographed routines that you knew like the back of your hand. though you supposed you could throw in some more risky moves, for whoever was currently paying for your console gaming subscription. being in the air was always exhilarating, but you were always worried about flashing too much. you knew that it would happen eventually, but you would still prefer for it not to.

you spun too fast on your way down and got that wobbling feeling in your stomach as your heels hit the stage a bit too hard to be ‘graceful’. oh well, you thought as you moved to the more floor-based part of your routine. you brought your hands up, running them over your body and pulling at your crop top, pulling it off and throwing it further back on the stage to be retrieved when you were done with your set. 

you made it slow, teasing, swaying your hips to the beat of the song and running your hands back down, under the strings of your thong to snap them against your hips. it was effective, but it was hard not to wince in annoyance. you were too salty to do this shit. it was a lucky thing that you were so good at acting. you slid further onto your knees, back arched as you looked some random guy that was halfway decent and crawled forward. that was something that always racked in tips. it made folks feel engaged with the whole experience. the guy held up a 20 and you stuck it under your thong strap, moving to collect more of the money that had been thrown at you.

you were honest with yourself when you said you loved the attention that this job brought. there were many people out in the crowd that wanted you, that sat in their chair or stood amongst the sweaty crowd with a white-knucked grip and lust in their eyes, and you ate it up. you loved being wanted, it was one of the worlds wonders. 

eventually, you finished your set, hair tousled from flipping it, back of your knees and your hands sore from gripping the pole, but ultimately you felt invigorated. energized. like someone had wound you up like a toy. and now you had to pounce on someone in hopes of attention and the money you needed to buy that new game you had been saving up for. comical.

you could tell a bunch of the dancers were anticipating the party that was in tonight. it was obvious they were important, and important people had money. so the dancers that weren’t on the stage currently were prowling around the VIP area, looking to advertise themselves.

you decided to do the charity work and tend to the rest of the forgotten crowd. you knew from experience that eventually the richer guests would get tired of giving their money away and eventually leave. and the rest of the crowd was just sitting there, so you slipped your way in to the seats that were closer to the stage (shitty stripper etiquette, but some of thesen dancers were fuckin’ shady sometimes) and found some dude who looked wimpy enough to play the whole deity act with. 

you walked your way around the chair, placing your hands on his shoulders and beginning to rub them, your hand making it’s way down his chest as you whispered a greeting in his ear. you used your other hand to run through his hair, plucking the bill in his hand out of his hand and into your g string on your hip with the rest of them. you moved back around the chair and plopped down on his lap, feigning interest and asking him about his day, making him feel special with the whole shebang. you eventually were able to make quiet some money from that guy, surprisingly. and you left him alone and unsatisfied when the lights dimmed between sets. 

now, to find someone else out of sight of the first guy. you were on your way to do that when something caught your eye. a glimmer of gold, no- not metal, someones eyes. you were momentarily mesmerized before you realized that the person attached to those honey irises was staring at you. at you. from the VIP booth. while you were in the middle of the crowd. you were never flustered, so it was new when you felt a heat in your cheeks. 

you quickly put your act back on, throwing him a wink. he made a ‘come here’ motion with his finger, but you gave him a playful grin and a little teasing wave of dismissal. you had no idea what came over you to do that, but you decided to stick with this little ‘hard-to-get’ persona, and you disappeared into the crowd. 

not 10 minutes later you were grinding on some guy through your shorts, just to work that 50 out of his hand. he was one of the assholes that would promise and never give. it was hypocritical for you to think that way, you supposed, but it was your job. either way, you got it from him by nosing up his neck (too much cologne) and giggling in his ear. and he put the bill in your g-string himself. gross.

you slid away from him between sets like you always did, and once again felt the heat of eyes on you. this was different, however. it wasn’t like the usual eyes on you, the gazes you had grown to crave and expect. this was predatory. you were being watched like a hawk. you spun around to find him staring at you again, this time split off from his little friends and instead sitting in a chair further back from the stage. he gave you a certain look and raised his hand, waving a bill in his hand. like bait! that was hotter than it should have been. 

still, decided to make your way over to him, stopping in front of his chair, towering over him in your platform heels as he sat in the chair. he didn’t seem too physically imposing, but his energy was cockier than shit and you could tell he was bulked up. you usually didn’t fuck with these types, but something about him was just magnetic. it was insane. he leaned back in his chair, obviously insinuating that he wanted the same treatment as the others. you instead took a singular finger and raised his chin up to meet his eyes as they ran you up and down. 

and that was when you realized, under the dim lights, that you were a complete and total idiot. you hadn’t even realize that the man in front of you was hawks, number two pro hero and the man too fast for his own good. you tried not to make a face, but you knew he could most definitely see in your eyes the minute you put the puzzle pieces together. what the fuck was he doing in a place like this?

“what the fuck is someone like you doing in a place like this?” you asked, coming out of your mouth before you could really stop yourself. he only chuckled, grinning as you felt his jaw tense against your finger. the main reason you didn’t recognize him is because there was a lack of giant red wings.

“what anyone else is tryin’ to do. have a good time! it’s my friends birthday, i have a life outside work, you know?” his voice was barely heard over the pounding of the music and the bass rattling under your feet. 

“what about your reputation? i’m surprised there isn’t a line to gag on your dick at this point,” you held no filter in speaking to him. you never had it with anyone else, really, and what was so special about him? he was just another dude in the club, so you did what you always did and slid into his lap, pressing your bodies together in all the ways you knew did the best. you watched something flash in his eyes as he bit his lip for a moment. he looked back up to meet your eyes again.

“well, how long did it take you to recognize me? and you’re sober, aren’t you?” hawks brought a sculpted arm up to wrap around your waist, and you slapped it away as you worked your hips against his to the beat. 

“no comment. and no touching, unless you want to pay for that too.”

“i might just have to. what’s your name, gorgeous?” his face was too smug for a man who could buy the building, yet completely in the the eye of the public had a semi hard-on for a stranger in some daisy dukes. 

“i don’t know, what’s yours?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. you didn’t know his real name, no one did. it was a mystery highly speculated about online, not that you checked or anything. 

“fair enough, fair enough. pick one before i blow a couple hundred on getting free roam to touch you.” he said, rolling his hips up to meet yours. this shocked you, catching your breath, and you knew he had noticed by the shit-eating grin he wore. 

you gave him your stripper name. it was sufficient enough to add another layer of mystery, because even though you were in his lap, you wanted to keep up this game of cat and mouse. predator and prey.

the thought of that made you tingle. you told him your rates, and he forked it over quite a fuckin’ bit. you stood up from where you were sat in his lap (thought the loss was more upsetting than you would care to admit). you took his wrist (his hand was big) and started to drag him back to one of the more secluded areas. 

you had to pass the VIP area to do that, and when you did, you heard a shout. it scared the shit out of you for starters, but hawks seemed to recognize the voice. it was coming from a woman with white hair and rabbit ears, currently cheering hawks on.

“fuckin’ get some, dude!” she said, and her voice was strangely familiar as hawks flashed an award-winning grin and a thumbs up. you winked at her and pulled hawks on with you.

you pulled him into a pseudo-room in the back. not cut off by doors, but isolated and split off by room dividers. you pushed him back onto one of the booth-like seats lining the wall.

the music was quieter back here, and it was easier to hear yourself think. the lights were dim and the bass was still thumping through the floor. there was no one back here, just you and him. 

“ ‘kay, so i’m technically not supposed to let you touch me, but you just paid for my groceries and they don’t really check the cameras here. also, you’re cute.” you rambled off, more genuine and clearer now that the music wasn’t so intense in the middle of the madness. and then, catching the beat, you started your ministrations, rolling your hips against his and hearing his breath catch as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“so i’ve been told,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“don’t let it go to your head, princess.” you said, and he didn’t reply, too focused on oogling you.

his hands came up to hold your waist, and he put his effort into moving along with you, and his grinding did not go unnoticed. or unappreciated, for that matter. with his hips at your waist, he raked his thumbs under your thong straps and snaps them against your hips like you had earlier. it earns a breathy chuckle from you as you watched his pupils pin. you pulled back, standing and watching his face sour as his hands were pulled from your waist. but you decided to give him a little show, just ‘cuz you had a case of the hots for him and the way he was looking at you was much appreciated.

you now stood in front of him, towering above him as you toyed with the waistband of your daisy dukes. he simply bit his lip, practically eye-fucking you. it was exhilarating. you enjoyed the lustful gazes from customers, but this was on a different level. you felt truly alive, and yet like you were melting all the same. your insides felt gooey but you kept your perfected expression hard, movements practiced, sex appeal seasoned to flawlessness. and now you unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down to reveal your bright red thong, hips, legs and torso all one long line. he looked at you like dinner and you were fucking living for it.

you kneeled inbetween his legs, laying your head on one of his thighs in the way you knew drove people crazy.

you heard a small “god damn,” exit his mouth as he looked at you, entranced as you caught his t-shirt on your way up his body with your teeth, pulling it up and dropping it back down, promptly standing up to slide backwards into his lap. you roll your ass where you know it’s appreciated and hear his breathing speed up behind you. you can practically hear his heart pounding to match your own, like a drum to the beat. your body laid down the bass, your eyes were the melody and he was drowning.

and when it was all over, poor guy walked out of the club with his fellow semi-disguised pro-heros with a raging hard on.

and later on, when you were pulling all your money out to count it, you caught a piece of paper rolled up along a $100 bill. it was his number. a pro-hero gave you his number. that was risky, especially in the type of place they were in.

you liked the risk he took. you put his number in your phone. 

[akria23]

I’m kinda obsessed with the aspect of the last half DSN. I think I’ve anticipated the second half of this series for a long time. Personally I feel that the 2’d half makes or breaks a good show. You you stay the coarse you can bore many of your viewers, if you dip into the wrong lane you will displease many of your viewers. It’s only kicking the story into overdrive that you stand a better chance. With DSN’s fast pace & story structure of solving conflicts within atleast an episode & a half I wondered how this would effect storylines in the last half. Like I said before there’s a few storylines still to come into play and fill up the end of the series -

Leo’s family - I don’t think they’re gonna be the cause of any real angst but I do feel like they’ll take up screen time & affect the mood - it’s kinda hard to mix angst with comedic elements (not impossible but difficult all the same). And I think the mom at least will have a number of scenes because of engagement with both Leo/Fiat & Leon/Pob. They’ve already set the playing field for viewers to love her.

Fiats Family - so far they’ve kinda scattered this conflict throughout the series and will probably continue to do so until it comes to its own big moment. I’m sure it’s gonna get its big due. I kinda wish it wasn’t tho. Somehow most series always pull the ‘just bear with your parents & they’ll come around’ tropes and I hate it. Some parents are just trash that you have to separate from. I don’t like way series tend to ignore the trauma and identity issues bad parents cause their child and then still end with an all’s well ends well approach. I wanted Fiats family to keep the energy because I feared they push the ‘misunderstood/strict’ parent trope and here we are! Hopefully we atleast get some accountability in the dialogue.

— I’m actually surprised that they saved the family stuff for the second half. It’ll have its own a notional moments but I’m still surprised at that choice.

Leon/Phob - the advancement of their relationship & any conflict which I’m sure they’ll be some.

Girl? I can’t remember clearly but I think there was another girl saying she liked Leo (from one of the old trailers…?) maybe I’m remembering wrong…I kinda hope I am because why would you place a random pursuer near the end? After everything LeoFiat has gone through she shouldn’t be able to cause any real harm by trying to come in the middle because they should’ve learned to communicate by the end. Def when someone has already tried to verbally stake her interest and the energy she received was a united front it would be weird to have it any other way near the ending half.

The one I’m most torn on is Curly. I find myself at a theory dilemma when it comes to him because the big theory that wraps itself around my brain doesn’t mesh well inside the framework of the story, but it remains regardless because my only other theory doesn’t feel…perfect either.

When I first saw the original trailer for the show I thought the ordeal with Curly would just turn out to be some kind of blowout built on miscommunication & misunderstandings. However the pacing, structure of the story, and Mame’s character writing style now has me questioning that. MAME isn’t the best at layering her characters, often she shows them for exactly who they are in their first introduction. This is why no matter how many ppl said that Leon’s antics would be a certain way in the last episode - I didn’t agree. Same for buying into the concept that Pob was pursuing Leo - it didn’t fit what his character was shown to be. On top of that she tends to over ‘perfect’ one of her main leads to the point where they don’t get to be flawed in persona. This happened in both LBC & TharnType so I can’t help but wonder if that’s the current case with Leo in DSN. So I question if we’d really see a storyline where Leo’s jealousy becomes so outrageous that it causes yet another dispute in the relationship - even if that jealousy was pressed by taunting. Plus I feel like this would just put them back to conversations they’ve already had. However even after saying all that - I remember that Mame does love the jealousy trope 😌

After the the last episode I wondered if the plot would actually be Fiat having been taken advantage of in the past but I argue against this one even because it’s way heavier than the story structure really calls for. But I also feel it would give that big angst moment without Leo & Fiat being at odds and without making Leo the bad guy for the intense emotions he’s exhibiting. Changing the presented emotions from petty jealousy to protective measures.

We have atleast 3 or 4 crying scenes left if they all make it and we’re about due for one so it would make sense for Curly to be one & be a big conflict section, considering he’s the mid-point conflict. But I’m unsure, before the last episode I would’ve said Mame wouldn’t have gone here simply because they’ve intentionally moved in a way to stay clear of any topic that would cause them possible backlash or fandom upset.

When it comes to curly I can’t pin down which theory I want to go with because I’m not 100% comfortable with either. I can’t figure a middle ground. It’s not often I’m stuck between my own theories not comfortable leaning into either, so maybe it’s a testament to the story structure or maybe I’m just not comfortable with the addition of either plot. I really don’t want another episode of - Fiat did something of poor taste in the past that affected Leo but he’s sorry now and will be a good boy from here on out. Been there done that, seen them have the conversation enough times to buy the shirt. The first theory would be shallow enough to fit into the structure of the story but it would just be its own sort of repeat of conflict we’ve already seen. While the other theory just feels too heavy. I don’t know how they’d solve a heavy issue in an episode. So far the show has intentionally been light and fast paced. I don’t think Curly situation will drag too long.

So I find myself at a fork in the road. Although I’m a bit anxious about this episode and episode 7 - because I find the mid episode make or break how good a story came across for me - I’m also interested to see how they choose to transition into the second half of the story.

[narrators-journal]

The most dangerous game

I know I’ve been hella dead, but I return with my usual! Stano smut! I dunno why I adore writing these two so much, but I guess I’m attached, so yeah. Ya’ll get content.

CW: Predator/prey vibes, Xeno gets chased but there’s no real big acknowledgement of it.

It was likely because Xeno had developed a persistently wonky sleep schedule that he got so many night time jobs. That, he supposed, was why he was once again out at night hunting another Vampire, despite having told his boss of his run-in with a particularly pretty vampire. However, at the moment, Xeno somewhat wished he was dealing with Stan instead. At least with him he could rely on his need to flirt and toy with him to give him away. But no, the scientist wasn't hunting Stanley, but instead a completely different vampire who was proving his dislike for hunting the blood sucking monsters. Taking advantage of how dark the night was, the human's weaker vision, and whatever ninja techniques he had learned from the internet, the young vampire had hidden annoyingly well in the thick blanket of shadows and clutter on the streets. So, the white-haired college graduate was poking around at every rock and thicket of grass or bushes along the sidewalk before the boiling irritation in his veins got to be too much and he let out a mix of a groan and a scream like a tea pot. Stomping over to one of the few flickering street lights on the road, the hunter stood in the light and dug out his knife, then used it to slash at his stomach to fill the air with the alluring scent of fresh blood. With a pained hiss and the new wet feeling of blood dripping sluggishly down his pale skin, the trap was set, and all the hunter had to do was wait for the shallow cut to work its magic. Which, didn't take long. All Xeno had time to do was get one of his metal stakes from his pocket and extend it, then he was set upon by the vampiric ninja-wannabe. However, despite his skill at stealth, the vampire was young in both a human and vampire sense. Freshly turned at a young age, he'd become a problem because he had yet to grow out of his pubescent hormones quite yet, and giving him a predatory draw and increased strength had only encouraged him to turn hard into the bad boy persona. Sadly, being a new vampire wasn't all improvements. It also meant an increased hunger and little control of your newfound strength. Which is what had led the young man to be targetted by the monster hunter association, and swiftly wiped out by a stake through the throat via Xeno Wingfield. With a grunt, the monster hunter threw the freshly dead young man to the sidewalk, wincing at the burning and itching sting bending down to yank the stake from his throat brought to his stomach. For a moment or so, he felt bad for the creature. He'd been young, and he'd let his newfound powers obviously go to his head after a lifetime diet of anime and movies, the silver haired hunter could understand his over excitement, but he also had little to no patience for dumbasses who couldn't register that they weren't in Naruto. So, his sympathy was brief, and he was soon just dragging the young creature's corpse into some bushes and calling the cleaning crew to come collect him. Then. He spoke.           "God damn, Doll. You're quite attractive when you're being lethal." Stan hummed, hopping down from his hiding spot in a nearby tree and giving the hunter a charming smile that he refused to admit brought a little heat to his face.         "Oh, so you're just gonna become a full blown stalker now? Did you follow me from my house, or was this another 'coincidental' run-in." Xeno's words dripped with sarcasm and venom, but the vampire simply rolled his glacial blue eyes,          "Actually, I'm here because I smelled fresh blood," At the mention of fresh blood, the scientist glanced down at his work shirt, spotting the tiny stain of blood his cut had left,          "Oh." He inwardly winced at how disappointed he sounded, but tried to recover with a sniff, "I had trouble luring the bastard out. It was quite the shock for me to find out that not every vampire would want to chase me down and prowl around my house for the entire fucking night." Stan simply snorted, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one before he spoke again,          "Nah, that's just my thing, doll,"         "Quit calling me doll! You have my name now, fucking quit." The vampire put his hands up in mock surrender, though his smirk didn't falter under the scientist's withering glare. For a moment, they simply stood in the cool night's darkness, the hunter with his arms crossed and dark eyes narrowed, and the vampire returning his malicious look with his own nonchalant, half-lidded one while he breathed whispy smoke from his dark mouth. Both men seemed to dare the other to say something or do anything, each looking for an excuse to make some sort of contact until the smaller male spoke again,           "Are you expecting me to run away? Because I told you the first time we met, I'm not likely to do that," He huffed, but Stan simply shrugged,           "I'm just messing with ya, doesn't matter to me if you run or not." He grinned more at the lightning fast moment of irritation on Xeno's face, but the hunter schooled his facial features back into their usual disdain-filled glare, only broiling with frustration on the inside. He hated this man's relaxed demeanor. He was a monster hunter, the tall, hypnotically pretty predator should be avoiding him at all costs. Yet here he was, needling at him as if he couldn't end him just as quickly as he had the younger blood sucker. Okay, well, not as quickly. Stanley had a good four inches on the monster hunter at least, and had a body that had been frozen at the prime of his life, toned and pruned like an artfully shaped shrub through the years into a gorgeous, powerful example of why humans were the apex predators of the world. Or, well, they were, but with his change into the more monstrous his status as the perfect predator had only increased. Stan was perfectly built to hunt humans. Not only did he have a supernatural magnetic beauty to him, but he'd been human, so he knew how humans behave first hand. He was a nightmarish wet dream. Xeno gave his head a good shake to banish those thoughts from his mind when he realized he was looking the vampire over with the hunger of a sugar baby sizing up their next piggy bank.           "Hey, Xeno," Stan hummed, but the hunter refused to look back at the man, which he simply took as a greenlight to continue, "you wanna play our little game tonight?" The hunter snorted in response, staring off into the darkness while his cheeks cooled,           "I thought you were only here to bother me, not play a game of fucked up tag," He said calmly, only looked back at the man when he heard him walking closer, only stopping when he was about two feet away, maybe within reach, a grin on his pretty face,           "Well, I thought it'd be a bit more polite to offer that rather than just asking if I could drink your blood outright." he reasoned, amused at the edge of poutiness that he seemed to sniff out through the veil of aloof indifference the hunter spoke with.            "No thanks to either offer, I don't want to be chased tonight." Xeno sniffed in response, simply adding a thicker layer of ill temper to cover how excited he was at the thought of being pursued a second time. The first time had, admittedly, given him a thrill, but he wasn't ready to voice such to the annoying vampire in front of him. However, Stan seemed to have picked up on his kryptonite from that first round,              "But aren't you curious to see what happens when you add the scent of blood to the mix?" The purr in the man's voice annoyed Xeno immensely, but the thought of maybe learning just how sensitive vampire instincts were, and how quickly one would succumb to them. Obviously young vampires are more prone to being controlled by their need to feed, but Stanley isn't a new vampire, that curious voice mused, already setting Xeno on a very likely stupid and dangerous path, It'd be immensely helpful to know just how easy it is to bring out those base urges in him. If he's going to follow you around it's best to know what to avoid so he doesn't go feral. It further encouraged, stoking the flames of the scientist's natural curiosity until he hummed,              "I suppose it would be useful for the association to know exactly what triggers a vampire to go into a frenzy of some sort. Fine." The vampire grinned at that,             "You do know that I can't promise my feeding instinct is the only one that'll come to the surface," he pointed out, making Xeno blink and raise an eyebrow at him,             "What? Why would any other instinct come into play?" turning red as Stan laughed,               "Well, in simple terms, I find you too attractive to promise that when I catch you I'd only want to drink your blood~" Xeno's face warmed up more at that, getting huffy and tripping over his words in his rush to snap at him.               "You can have a five minute head start, just like last time," he simply assured, "Just need a bit of blood, because your original scratch has closed," He laughed more when Xeno pulled up his shirt to see that his shallow cut from earlier had in fact begun to heal, no longer bleeding and instead beginning to scab over. The hunter only responded with a glare at that point as he plucked his knife from the sidewalk where he'd dropped it and wiped it off before leaving another cut along his stomach, this one a bit deeper than the first, but not enough to linger for more than a day or two. With that, Stan gave him a charming smile that showed his extending fangs, his blue eyes already getting a hungry gleam to them. So, without further conversation, Xeno took off down the street. The cuts on his stomach stung and itched more from his running, but he pressed on. His main concern was regulating his breathing and energy so that he could get as far away from the vampire as he could in his small window of time. Naturally, his plan wasn't to just run in a straight line and wait to be caught, not only would that likely be dangerous, as a vampire in a feeding frenzy was much more violent, but was less likely to fulfill the goal of bringing those deadly instincts to the surface at all. So, instead, he sought out other people, a crowded area, maybe a shop, that way it wasn't as easy for the predator to catch up to him. This is insanely stupid, that voice of reason finally spoke up, not only am I playing with fire by instigating an instinctual reaction, but I am woefully under prepared to run from Stan. He realized, filling his veins with icy terror when the weight of his situation fully sunk in, The first time we did this I barely survive on pure panic and him toying with me. If he really loses his shit and goes into a frenzy, I can't outrun him. The reality of the thought hurt, but it was sorely true. Despite all of his training as a monster hunter, Xeno had never been one for good cardio, namely in the stamina category. He relied on his wits and pure speed, not his ability to maintain those speedy response times or pace for long periods. but it's too late now, he reminded himself, thinking back to the way the vampire's fangs had extended so soon after he'd given him a fresh source of scent. Nope, he couldn't chicken out now. He had no choice but to stick to his plan and push the panic and fear aside. Instead, he simply focused on the route ahead of him and locked onto the light of a store further down the street, which he headed for instantly. The bright, artificial light blinded the pale scientist for a moment when he stumbled into the store, but he was swift to regain his barrings and dash down the aisles and through the crowds of night owls and whatnot that were still up at this hour. He knew that his five minutes had ended a minute or so before. Meaning he didn't have long before the vampire would be on his ass. So, thinking quickly, he swiped his hand over his wounds, then smeared the blood on his palm onto the tile flooring in an aisle. Once he had that down, Xeno ran off deeper into the store. He had very few places to hide. The bathroom was basically a dead end with no windows and only one door, he couldn't climb up the shelves or to the rafters in a timely manner, so he forwent that plan. Instead, he did the next best thing. leaving as distracting a trail as possible before bolting out one of the fire exits.            "Shit," he wheezed when the fire exit triggered a screaming alarm through out the store. If Stan was in there, he'd definitely know he got out now, but that only meant the scientist had less time to think of such things. He had to focus on running. So, Xeno ignored the way his legs throbbed, and his lungs ached from gulping down the cold night air. He focused entirely on getting home, or at least to a more residential area. He could feel his limbs getting heavier, threatening more and more to give out with each step, but his grit his teeth and bared it until the threat became reality and the asphalt bit into his skin. And there he laid for a few seconds, gasping for air and scraping up as much energy as he could to push himself to his feet. As he did, he glanced back down the street, and sure enough. Stanley was coming out of the alley Xeno'd run out of, his glowing blue eyes locking onto the scientist in an instant. With another curse spat out through gritted teeth, Xeno took off again. His legs still screamed from exhaustion, and now his hands stung viciously from the fall, but he kept going. He could hear Stan closing in on him, which gave him a final burst of frantic energy that carried him to at least the park near his home before the vampire finally tackled him to the grass. The scientist could only wheeze in response, letting the vampire crush against him and push his face into his pale neck with a growl. That seemed to snap him out of the exhaustion cloud, and in an instant, Xeno was squirming and forcing himself up once again. The only way he managed it was because the vampire was taken by surprise, so he was able to slip from his grasp and scramble up, but he only got a few more steps before he had to lean against a tree for support so that his legs didn't crumble a third time. Then, just as quickly as he'd gotten away, Xeno was back in Stan's luke-warm arms, trapped against his needlessly heaving chest with his fangs hovering over his jugular once more. However, he didn't bite down. To the contrary, the feral vampire seemed to hesitate for a moment, seemingly weighing his options of what to do with the hunter before settling on a choice and swiftly switching to almost slamming him against the nearest tree.           "S-Stanley!" The hunter wheezed, more surprised then anything, pushing back so that his face at least wasn't forced into the course bark and he could look back to try and see the blonde behind him. Said blonde was keeping him in place with a hand on one of his shoulders, looking Xeno in the eye and almost relishing the dawning realization that painted his pale cheeks before he used his free hand to hook into his pants and tug them down pretty roughly. Then, he was back at the man's neck, but this time he bit with his blunter teeth, sucking at the skin until Xeno's mewls and hums were pulled out and he was satisfied with the hickey he'd left. The scientist, meanwhile was a bit ashamed of how quickly he accepted the turn of events. He tried to save some face by muffling the noises bubbling in his throat, but Stan's mouth at his neck, paired with the way he ground his groin into his now-bear rear drug a few noises out. Though, it also bat back the fog of hormones and lust long enough for the hunter to realize that he was very likely to get hurt if he didn't intervene. So, he whined and reached up to tangle his fingers in Stan's messy hair, tugging at it until he finally relinquished his throat from the second hickey he was dedicated on leaving. Carefully, Xeno turned himself around with what little room he was permitted between the vampire's muscular chest and the much-less-forgiving tree. Once they were face to face though, the college graduate's brain no longer seemed to work, so, the two simply stood there, panting a bit from the chase, before he finally gave up on using words and instead simply sunk down to his knees. Keeping his eyes glued to the glowing blue pair above him as he went. Luckily enough for him, his actions at least intrigued the vampire, because he was allowed to tug his bottoms down just enough for his member to spring free, which earned him a noise somewhere between a growl and a hum. With Stan's pants down and his member now standing erect in front of him, Xeno hesitated. Should it matter if I'm any good at this sort of shit? I just need some sort of lubrication, and he shouldn't really care about anything beyond...mating, so surely he won't give a shit, right? He asked himself, puzzling over the predicament before Stan reached down to grab onto his shirt, reminding the scientist of his lack of patience. So, Xeno threw his insecurities to the wind and grabbed onto the base of the shaft so he could slip Stan's impatient member into his mouth. The vampire moaned in response, and Xeno took that as a sign that he'd bought a bit more time for himself. So, he slowed down, bobbing his head at a medium sort of pace to work himself up to taking as much of the length as he could, which, thankfully for him, was almost all of it thanks to years of speed-drinking coffee and energy drinks and eating at record speeds in college. He also found that once he actually got to moving, the embarrassment of his lack of skills faded away, and part of him simply enjoyed the groans he got out of Stan while he moved his lips up and down him at a steady pace. He simply continued to work him as much as he could until the vampire let out a little hiss and gripped onto the scientist's shirt until he pulled away and let his throbbing member go with a coy 'pop'. Suddenly, Xeno was yanked back to his feet and whirled around again to be slammed back into the tree. His pants were tugged down once more and his feet were kicked apart in rapid succession so the monster hunter only got a moment's break before Stan pushed into him. And while it hurt still, the white-haired man found that he didn't mind as much. As the vampire began thrusting into him, one hand clawing into his hip, the other on his shoulder, Xeno moaned out curses and did his best to grab onto the tree or Stan's neck to keep steady under the merciless thrusts of the blonde. It was shameful how hot his body got, but with how Stan was hitting that sweetspot within Xeno, his face back to being buried in his neck for more marks, Xeno couldn't care less.        "Mmmm, fuck! ah, r-right there, please!" he plead, tangling his fingers back into Stan's hair as he moaned, giving another lewd noise when his pursuer did as he asked, swiftly learning that doing so got more needy noises from the hormone-addled hunter. With that, Xeno lost all coherency as euphoria further fogged his mind, and soon brought him to his peak with a whine of the vampire's name. Though, Stan didn't stop when Xeno came, he just kept thrusting into him, still flooding his pale body with more and more pleasure while his hot puffs of breath tickled his hickey-littered neck. The continued rough treatment was beginning to sting, but the edge of pain only seemed to bolster Xeno's pleasure back to its peak, pushing a second orgasm from him before Stan finally grew sloppy with his thrusts and soon gave one final movement before emptying himself into the hunter. After that, the monster hunter let himself melt against the tree, relying on Stanley to hold him up because he was on the verge of passing out after that night's activities. The last thing Xeno remembered was giving a thumbs up to what he assumed was the question 'are you okay'. Then, he let his exhaustion take him into dreamland.

[curious-minx]

Notable 2020 Video Game Soundtracks That Can Be Enjoyed As Standalone Experiences

Video Game Music is gaining recognition, with many soundtracks receiving vinyl pressings, orchestral concert reviews, and an increasing presence on music streaming platforms such as bandcamp and Spotify. We’re also witnessing the uprise of indie video game development teams where games are being made by the sort of passionate type of game designer that takes soundtracks seriously.  Soundtracks by small teams of developers such as Celeste, Undertale, Disco Elysium, Hollow Knight, RuneScape, and Lisa: The Joyful are titles with soundtracks that easily stand up against the likes of bigger budget productions made by reliable sources of video game music like Square-Enix and Nintendo.

2020 is no exception in terms of having one of the biggest budget soundtracks around with Final Fantasy 7 Remake, which builds upon a legacy of industry-standard-creating soundtrack work. Taken as a whole, Final Fantasy 7 Remake’s soundtrack is clocking in at over 8 and half hours of music. The soundtrack has three composers with the Beethoven of video game music, Nobuo Uematsu, most notably coming out of retirement to get the job done.  Here are some other amazing 2020 video game soundtracks more conducive for standalone background listening:

TETRIS EFFECT by HYDELIC 

Genres: EDM, Ambient Pop and straight up Ambient 

Describing this album makes me feel like I’m some sort of burnt out fanciful raver, head permanently lodged in the clouds. The level of giddy technicolor enthusiasm rivals that of Icelandic Sigur Ros frontman Jonsi, but if he wanted to keep his post-rock firmly planted in the outdoor music festival on Mars territory. Despite the album’s notable two hours runtime, each and every song feels like its own uniquely crafted composition, no repetitive motifs or nostalgia-baiting.

There is unfortunately still a Tetris movie in some sort of shaggy state of development in Hollywood right now. The movie is being billed as a dull biopic about the creator of the Tetris game. Whereas listening to Tetris Effect you imagine a Tetris movie directed by someone more fitting like the Wakowskis. Tetris Effect’s opening song “Connected (Yours Forever)” is a bonafide vocal pop song, like a more sugary CVRCHES-style cooing of the lyrics:

“I’m Yours Forever

There is No End in Sights For Us,

Nothing Can Measure the Kind of Strength Inside Our Hearts,

It’s all connected we’re all together in this life, don’t you forget it

We’re all connected in this”

Try your best not to imagine a cast of Hollywood’s most beautiful plucky orphan mutant misfit youths using the power of Tetris to heal a broken and dying planet!

Notable Track: Next Chapter

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HADES by DARREN KORB

Genres: Progressive Metal, Folktronica, Folk Metal, Dimotika, Greek Folk Music

Darren Korb has become one of the most notable video game composers of the past decade. Korb, an integral member of the Supergiant family, continues to outdo himself with each and every soundtrack. Bastion and Transistor originally found Korb creating a niche for himself with downtempo folk-infused electronic soundscapes and even some vocal pop with collaborator Ashley Barrett. Hades is an altogether different beast for Korb, who much like the developers of Hades, have found themselves at the height of their powers.

Korb also contributes vocals on this album, and I can say without hesitation that these are some of the nicest vocals I’ve ever heard from a video game music designer, because video game musicians are bonafide musicians.The album clocks in at two and half hours and separate from its game is still an absolute thrill ride.

Notable Track: In The Blood

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DEFECTIVE HOLIDAY by MECHATOK

 Genres: Ambient Trance, Balearic Beat, Progressive Electronic, Nature Recordings, Spoken Word, New Age

One glance at the album artwork is all it took for me to know that I must listen to this album. Defective Holiday is an indie walking simulator that is explicit about its intentions: a lightly interactive one hour experience. This soundtrack clocks in at only 31 minutes and it is purely the most conventional album in terms of length.

Last week in late November, Mechatok announced a collaboration with one of the leading zoomer Swedish cloud rap mavericks Bladee, the cofounder of the Drain Gang. Last month gives a pretty clear picture of what kind of circles Mechatok is floating in on. Highly online gonzo vaporwave maestro James Ferraro is another apparent influence on this soundtrack, especially regarding the way the sinister mundane dialogue is woven into the soundscape. There’s one particular track on the Defective Holiday OST, “Rescue Shot Buibo”, that is adorned with standard trap-style drum fills that give the album a shot of energy before wandering back off into the haze. This soundtrack and video game is all about the pure vibe and aesthetic nature that are currently trending in these extremely stressful times.  In a time where all of our holidays were defective from the very start, I think the casual walking simulator will remain a genre high in demand. I have a feeling we’re going to hear a lot more from this empathetic young German.

Notable Track: Valley

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Last of Us II by Gustavo Santaolalla, Mac Quayle (and Ashley Johnson)

Genres: Ambient, Cinematic Classical, Dark Ambient, Spanish Folk Music 

L

The Last Of Us is a horror game where the music itself is arguably playing a critical character role, which can only be expected billing two titans of audio visual soundtracks. Of course Academy Award winner Santaolalla knows his way around a soundtrack. Wielding a resume of astonishing versatility in various TV and film projects, he might have found his higher calling in not only video games but in the horror music canon. Last of Us is an extremely emotional series, and with the wrong soundtrack, the experience could become insufferably bleak. The occasional  splashes of color and light are what make this soundtrack so unsettling and eerie. Not since Silent Hill 2’s Akira Yamaoka has there been such an effective standalone horror video game soundtrack experience. No wonder Gustavo Santaolalla is one of the only video game composers integral enough to the game to warrant a cameo banjo-playing character model based off of him.

As if having one major composer from prestigious TV and movies wasn’t enough, Mac Quayle, composer of the whole Mr. Robot series, contrasts against Santaolalla’s acoustic contributions. The soundtrack itself is sequenced in a way that switches between the two composers. “The Cycle of Violence” composed by Quayle, a track that more than lives up to its name, is immediately followed by Santaolalla’s somber “Reclaimed Memories.” This dance between violence and heart is what the Last of Us excels at as a franchise, and that is why this soundtrack is an effective stand-alone experience.

The only disappointing part of the soundtrack is that Ashley Johnson, voice actor of Ellie’ three songs, is not included in the game’s official tracklist. Ellie’s “Take On Me” a-ha and “Future Days” Pearl Jam covers have made a little history by being the most powerful songs sung by a video game character. When Ellie sings and plays on her guitar they aren’t some little Easter egg idling moments to provide levity for this heavy revenge horror story. These songs are used to make some of the strongest character development choices made by a video game character seen in recent years. Ellie is joining a small club of singing video game characters alongside Parapa the Rapper and  maybe the cast of obscure Atlus title Rhapsody: Musical Adventure.

Notable Track: Unbroken

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Persona 5 Royal Straight Flush Edition by Shoji Meguro��

Genre: Acid Jazz, Alternative Rock, Alternative Metal, Lounge, Jazz-Funk 

This is one of those soundtracks that, much like Nobuo Uematsu’s work in Final Fantasy, is really the heart and soul of the entire Persona franchise (and his work in the adjacent Shin Megami Tensei universe is equally as noteworthy). Persona 5 Royal finds Meguro making his most complete, funky, and otherworldly opus that sounds like no one else in the biz.

You will find many people online scouring message boards, subreddits, bandcamp features, and Yahoo Answers looking for more music like Persona 5. Outside of Metal Gear Solid: Snake Eater, how many other games are packed to the brim with truly foxy songs!? Persona 5 could not predict how badly the title “Throw Away Your Mask” would age, despite the game being more than ahead of its time with the majority of NPCs wearing PPE. Be a good Joker, put on your mask and keep chasing Meguro’s acid jazz-infused dragon through many more semesters to come.

Notable Track: I Imagine

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Streets of Rage 4 by Olivier Deriviere & Various

Genres: Electro House, Nu Jazz, Synth Funk, Acid House 

Composer Olivier Deriviere is a living definition of a video game soundtrack journeyman. He has a career stretching back to the early 2000s working on notable big budget titles like the divisive 2008 Atari fifth Alone in the Dark installment and Remember Me, an unsung buried gem from the PS3/360 era Capcom title. Remember Me is where Deriviere’s electronic leanings started becoming especially prominent in his sound. On the Streets of Rage 4 soundtrack Deriviere has completely come into his own element, developing a whole new sense of campy playfulness.

Electronic French House music can be a divisive genre. For every Daft Punk commercial success there is a band that ruffles feathers like Justice. I sense a strong presence of late departed French House titan Philippe Zdar of Cassius as well. If you’d played this soundtrack for me out of context, I would have guessed an obscure voguing tape from the 80s or a really talented mysterious DJ set. Instead, this is a sequel to a classic beat em up franchise that left a portion of players disappointed by the game’s four hour playtime. The soundtrack is over an hour and fifty minutes long of high octane House music bliss. Much like the Tetris Effect soundtrack, it is truly impressive how much depth these tracks have when they could have easily been nostalgic recycled beats. Sometimes a game’s soundtrack can offer more post game enjoyment than an actual game.

Notable Track: Chill Or Don’t

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Hylics 2 by Chuck Salamone & Mason Lindroth 

Genres: Experimental Rock, Neo-Psychedelia, Hypagogic Pop, Stoner Rock, Jazz-Rock

A soundtrack that comes closest to capturing the experience of hearing the Earthbound or Katamari Damacy soundtracks for the first time. The Hylic indie RPG series is a wonderful and strange beast that is ready to frolic and show its playful side. Hylics is a part of a recent uprising of indie games being developed on the RPG Maker software. 2020 year has left us all with variations of the same stressed out adjectives: Weird. Messed Up. Surreal.

Why not listen to an album from a game that is the perfect embodiment of that surreal mantra? Step away from your computer, draw a bath, and put this album on. Thank me later!

Notable  track: Xeno Arcadia

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Ultrakill: Infinite Hyperdeath (Act I Soundtrack) by Heaven Pierce Her aka game developer Arsi “Hakita” Patala 

Genres: Drum and Bass, Industrial Metal, Ambient, Progressive Metal, Acidcore 

Nothing says “modern indie game development” more than a game built completely from the ground up by one person. Ultrakill’s developer “Hakita” is one of those kindly folkloric DIY figures that make video games such an extensive art form. The game is a painstaking gloriously bloody ode to Dooms of yesteryear but with plenty of its own fine tuned style. The perfect soundtrack for when you’re painting your personal Hell a darker shade of gore, but also would really like to kick your ass into shape if you need an adrenaline boost to your Quarantine blues.

Notable Track: Panic Betrayer 

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Risk of Rain 2 by Chris Christodoulou

Genres: Progressive Rock, Space Rock, Space Ambient,  Post-Rock

Something about the country of Greece brings the best kind of futurism out of the country’s composers. Christodoulou’s Risk of Rain 2 soundtrack is no Bladerunner knock off. This soundtrack for the colorful sci-fi indie rougelike is punchier and less nocturnal than your typical synth-heavy sci-fi soundtrack. Risk of Rain is one of the more successful Kickstarter series around and has the best quality an indie game can have: it feels like a labor of love on all fronts. There’s no reason a rougelike like Rain of Ruin or Hades needs a soundtrack this good, but Christodoulou casts a spell with his electronic-driven prog rock that makes you want to keep respawning. A huge missed opportunity if Christodoulou does not get to soundtrack an earnest sci-fi action-adventure for even big screens. Oh! This soundtrack also features some spoken word segments from Werner Herzog; what more do you need to know?

Notable Track: The Rain Formerly Known As Purple

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Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus by Guillaume David

A big debut project from an up-and-coming composer Guillaume David. Prior to the making of this soundtrack, David was a video game voice actor who worked on a Resident Evil Devil May Cry crossover voicing the character of “Hunk.” Warhammer 40K might become a franchise that more people will care about solely based on the quality of this installment’s soundtrack. When you see the title Warhammer 40,000, what sort of sounds come to mind? If you guessed “Neo gothic cyber Gregorian chants that seamlessly melds the ancient and futuristic”, you would be correct. A turn-based action game could possibly fall into dull territory, but with a visual identity as strong as Warhammer 40K  melded with a suitable musical atmosphere, the action and world becomes irresistible. This soundtrack is a brisk 56 minutes and the other soundtrack on this list with a more conventional runtime. Not a second is wasted on this dynamic and fantastical soundtrack. Prior to hearing this soundtrack I had no intention of ever looking into playing a game based off of something as convoluted as Warhammer 40K, but now I very much want to know what these robot priests are about. That’s the magic of a quality soundtrack.

Notable track: Millenial Rage

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Honorable Mentions:

Happy Listening! 

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 5

••••

She steps off the dirt path and onto the small dock. Her presence doesn’t even effect him, which is concerning. “I thought I’d find you here.”

He doesn’t have the energy to respond, his thoughts are swirling and the anxiety he’s been having about this situation is bubbling to the surface more and more each day, especially because of her. His cerulean blues stay focused on the ripples of the water surrounding his feet.

Kicking off her flip-flop, the brunette takes a seat next to him on the old dock, putting her bare feet in the cool pond water right along side his. She turns to look at him, wondering what’s going on inside his head and for a moment as the sun illuminates is silhouette, something inside her heart shifts. “Why’d you run off like that?” 

“I guess I just got a little bit overwhelmed by it all.”

“All of what?”

“The thought of going off to college and making something of myself.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

Marty quickly whips his head around, affronted by his best friend’s reaction. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my misery.”

She scoots closer to him, encircling his forearm with her own arms. “No, Marty its not...I’m laughing because you obviously haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve been saying for the past 7 years.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Don’t you realize what you mean to your mom, to my parents...to me? Marty, you’ve already made something of yourself. You are the kindest, funniest and best person I know. You changed my life; you’ve changed so many people’s lives.”

“Really?”

A soft smile crosses her features at the childlike hope in his cerulean blues. “Hey, have I ever lied to you before?”

“No.”

“Exactly. And I never will.” She states matter of factly before leaning her head against his shoulder, soaking in the beautiful glow of the setting sun cascading across the water with the person who makes her feel so safe it’s kinda ridiculous. 

The tension in his body slowly ebbs away at his best friend’s words as the scent of lavender beautifully assaults his nose. Taking a deep calming breath, he leans his head against hers, knowing that whatever life throws at him, she’ll be there. He can count on that. “I know.”

••••

Stepping of the dirt trail and onto the old dock like she’s done so many times before, the brunette takes in the picture before her. There he is, clothes tattered, scars across his beautiful face, but he’s alive and that’s all that matters. 

He turns around already feeling her presence ease the tension away from his battered body. His sorrowful blue eyes meet those of sweetly intense brown and the shine that glistens in them. Shaking his head in defeat, he realizes how close he had come to never seeing her again. 

Kensi doesn’t give him a chance to say anything before she’s closing the distance between them, throwing her arms around him, she’s able to relax for the first time in four months. “You’re safe.”

His body clings to hers, hands grasping at her shirt feeling as though they can’t get close enough. That lavender scent that is so uniquely her fills his nostrils, immediately bringing him a sense of self. She’s here. He’s here. They’re here together and that’s all that matters. “Yeah, for now.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”

She pulls back, a cross between anger and hurt written across her features. “Don’t.”

“Sorry.” The blonde apologizes, regretting his words the moment they left his lips. 

Without thinking, her finger finds the red scrape on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

The feel of her skin against his brings back memories of that night a few months ago. He wants that again so bad. So bad he can almost taste it, but there’s something he has to take care of before he can even think about moving forward with her. “I’ll be better when I catch Lazik.”

“Woah. Woah. Woah. What do you mean when you catch Lazik?”

“I have to finish this, Kens.”

Seeing the determination set in his soulful blue eyes she knows there’s no stopping him, but she’ll be damned if he thinks she’s going to stand idly by. “No, we have to finish this.”

“I suppose I could use some backup.” He smirks, earning a playful nudge from his partner. 

••••

A resounding gasp fills the agents ears as the tech operator discovers who the third vehicle belongs to. “Car’s registered to Dale John Sully.”

Kensi tilts her head back against the head rest in exasperation when Eric confirms that her best friend’s undercover persona is indeed inside the warehouse, putting his life in even more danger than before. “Callen, that’s Marty’s alias.”

The team leader shakes is head wondering why he’s so surprised that the detective is indeed in another sticky situation. “Your boy just loves trouble, doesn’t he.”

She stares at the roof of the car for a minute, thinking about Callen’s words. “It’s funny, cuz when we were growing up, it was always the other way around.”

“Kens, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” Marty looks around the backyard nervously as his best friend pulls out the power saw from her dad’s tool shed. 

“What are you talking about? It’s just a little tree house.”

“Yeah, but what’s your dad gonna say when he catches us with his power tools?”

The brunette begins to pull out the sawhorse before turning around to meet the 13 year old’s worried eyes.“He’s not gonna catch us and you’re not gonna tell him either.”

He feels a unfamiliar thud in his heart when the challenging spark in her mismatched orbs meet his.“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re homicidally angry?”

“In fact they have and he was never seen again.” 

Taking a deep breath, Kensi focuses on the here and now. Rescuing Marty’s ass, just so she can kill him herself for going in alone. “So what’s the plan?”

••••

The bald man turns to meet Dale’s eyes, a dark smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You are surprised I have a wife?”

A shiver runs down his spine. “Everybody’s gotta have somebody, right?” The blonde answers as a sense of warmth and dread swarm through his body at the thought of his person, his somebody, his Kensi and how close they are to having at what he hopes will be forever. 

••••

Callen watches as the shaggy blonde, presses the muzzle of the gun forcefully against the dirty cops jaw. “Deeks, look, he’s not worth it.”

Marty ignores the team leader’s statement as his anger continues to take control of his body. “Ask me again. Ask it again!”

Kensi watches on as a side of her best friend that she’s never seen before takes over. Thinking of how he would deal with this situation if their roles reverse, she does the only thing that would certainly bring her out of her rage. “Marty. Marty, put it down.”

As soon as his name leaves her lips a calmness washes over him and it suddenly hits him that she was there to witness what just happened. He empty’s the camber of the gun handing it off to the guys before looking for the nearest way out. 

Seeing the frantic look of turmoil in her best friend’s eyes, Kensi places her hand against his chest, trying to bring him some sort of relief. 

He shakes his head, trying to school his features as much as he can and does the one thing that never seems to work when it comes to her, not that he would want it to. He walks away from her without a word. 

Finding a clear spot against the ally wall, Marty leans against the brick, sliding down until his ass his the hard concrete. He brings his knees up to his chest, burrowing his head into them as he finally lets his tears fall. The anger he’s been holding onto for so long, the pure shit that was this case and the most beautiful moment he’s ever experienced in his life all swimming around in his head. 

He’s not sure how long it is before the familiar sound of her footfalls hit his ears. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Hey, are you okay?” She chastises herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course he’s not okay. She’s seen him come out of some pretty deep covers, but this one seems to be affecting him more than any other. Kneeling down in front of him, her hands find his, trying to once again comfort him the way she always has. 

“I’d be better if everyone just left me alone.”

The bite in his voice tells her one thing, his walls are up and considering the emotional state he’s in right now, they won’t be coming down any time soon...even for her. She stands back up, shaking her head in frustration. “Understood.”

The sound of her footfalls getting further and further away finally draw him out of his “cage,” realizing that she’s not going to fight him right now even though she knows its what he needs. He can feel the strain in his throat as her silhouette gets smaller and smaller. “Kens...” He sighs in defeat as she quickly turns the corner. 

This day keeps getting shittier and shittier. 

••••

He brings his fist up to tap on the piece of wood once more, but just as he does it’s pulled open. A set of mesmerizingly mysterious eyes are suddenly staring back at him, leaving him at a loss for words. “I-“

“I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“I did, but...”

“But what?”

She’s upset, actually upset doesn’t seem to be the right word for what he sees staring back at him. Ever since they were kids he’s imagined this moment in so many different ways, this wasn’t really one of them. “I-I wanted to tell you that after that night we had...I never meant for it to happen.”

Kensi can feel her heart split into two at his words. The thought of this...them..of what they could be, it’s all suddenly gone. All the fight she thought was inside her has dissipated. She won’t let herself cry. She won’t. “O-oh, yeah, right. I-I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were probably just in the heat of the moment and didn’t want to hurt my-“

Before she can finish her sentence, his lips are on hers, cutting her off. His hands come up, cradling her face, kissing her with such passion and reverence that it would put a Nicholas Sparks movie to shame. 

Their tongues duel as if its their last moments on earth and this is goodbye. It’s a few minutes later when they have to pull back, both panting as the rise and fall of their chests brush against each other. “What was that?” 

“It seems as though I’m not so good with the words, so I had to resort to other tactics.”

“Not that I didn’t enjoy those tactics, but you know you can tell me anything, Marty.”

“I know. I know. It’s just, laying it all there and saying the words out loud...to you, I-“

“Deeks, what is it?”

At the sound of his last name leaving her lips, he knows he better get to the point and stop being circuitous. It’s now or never. Chips on the table. All in. Taking one last calming breath, his hand finds itself back on her jaw, the feel of her skin against his sends a shock wave through his body. Conveying everything he possibly can in his eyes, he says what’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue and in some part of his head for 20 years now. “I’ve always wanted this one specific thing in life and I didn’t realize until recently what it was. I want you, Kens. I want you and me...I want us. You’re so much more than my best friend. You’re everything to me, Kensi and I’m so far past being in love with you.”

As his confession washes over her, everything stands still as her broken heart slowly mends itself together. This is so not what she was expecting tonight. “You-you love me?”

“I do.” His lips rise into a small smile. “I think the night we made love made me realize it even more.”

He watches as an unreadable look crosses her face as if she’s trying to size him up before turning around and walking further into her apartment. Seeing as though she doesn’t slam the door in his face, he follows her in, quickly shutting the door and becomes confused when he doesn’t see her sitting on the couch. 

The brunette follows his movements as he walks further into the living room before she makes her next move. Coming up behind him, she spins his body around and pushes him onto the couch. Straddling his lap, she presses her heat against his. His arms immediately wrapping around her waist loving the feel of her body against his as her movements quickly bringing his member to life. 

Slowly moving in, a soft blissful smile spreads to her face as her intense mismatched orbs dance with passion. “I’m in love with you, too.”

[kmpac]

Noona No More

➸ 18+

➸ Summary: You are a stylist for the biggest group in the world, which has some decided advantages, but it also has some definite distractions. The biggest of which being Park Jimin. After a performance goes slightly wrong, you get your chance to tell Jimin exactly what you think of him and turns out he has some things to say about you too.

➸ Word count: 6K

➸ Pairing: Park Jimin x stylist noona

➸ Genre: Slight Angst, Smut, Fluff if you squint

➸ Warnings: Jimin crying (it broke my heart to write it!), some foul language, dry humping, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (because, of course!)

➸ A/N: I have been on tumblr for a while, but haven’t ever shared anything I’ve written. Being a mom in my 30s, it has been literally 15 years since I actually wrote anything, but I’ve been inspired by Jimin lately. My sweet ultimate bias. I just adore him. With the encouragement of some ARMY friends, I decided to share this. We will see what happens and if anyone reads this. Lol. I have never written warnings before, as this is my first time writing smut. I’m so sorry if I forget something. If you see anything I should add, please let me know!

Being a stylist for BigHit had some decided advantages; working for a company that cared for its employees and paid well not being the least of which. But BigHit was also full of idols who were not prima donnas, which from your 10+ years in the business had taught you was an incredibly rare feat. The worst thing you had to deal with was boys falling asleep in the styling chair or wanting to play in front of the cameras that followed them everywhere. No, you had it really good, you couldn’t deny.

That did not change the fact that being a stylist for Big Hit, and primarily being assigned to BTS had some decided disadvantages as well. Primary among these disadvantages was one – Park Jimin.

Jimin was the kind of person that would sit quietly making polite conversation with you making you feel seen and important and not like a prop in his everyday life. But he was also the kind of person that would brush just slightly too close to you as he stood from his chair and would cutely say “excuse me” with a knowing smirk as you blushed from ears to toes. In other words, he was dangerous. He was charming, sweet, sexy, funny: all the attributes to make any woman weak at the knees. Unfortunately for you, having a crush on your gorgeous idol subject was not an option if you wanted to keep your job. Not only were you required to be professional in order to carry out your duties, but it was also the road to heartbreak, and you knew it. Idols weren’t allowed to date openly, and for BTS it wasn’t only impossible with their superstar status, but was impossible due to their schedules. You knew well the hours they put into their work and had more than once blow dried and curled their hair as they fell asleep standing. They worked hard, but play was something foreign to them.

So when Jimin would flirt just before a show, you assumed it was only to get into the mindset of his stage persona, not to personally give you a heart attack. It was the only form of comfort and a wakeup call that you could offer yourself.

That was until one particular day when your whole world turned upside down.

You were backstage at an award show, curling Jimin’s hair as his sleepy chin dipped to his chest. His lips were puffy and adorable as usual and his makeup was flawless so you could barely see his cute freckles that you wished the makeup people wouldn’t hide. His complexion, too, was a bit too light, but you always attributed that to a broken sense of the beautiful in this country. Pale did not always equate to beautiful and tan could be gorgeous, like Jimin’s own natural honey skin tone that made him look like candy you could eat. Come to think of it, it was probably safer for your sanity that they did adjust his complexion, if that thought was any indication of your fragile state of mind around this man.

“You will be needing another dye job soon,” you said casually as you assumed his half asleep mind wouldn’t even register it.

Without even opening his eyes, he uttered, “will you do it, Noona?”

“If I’m the stylist on duty, of course.”

“You are the only one who is gentle. I always feel like my scalp is on fire when anyone else does it.”

“You exaggerate. And I don’t do it any different than anyone else.”

He looked up then as you were midway through a curl of the iron and grabbed your wrist, “promise you will be the one who does it, Noona.”

You were distracted by his eyes that were so much more than the colored contacts he wore. Even those couldn’t distract from how jaw dropping and gorgeous his eyes were, especially as he had some of the most honest and forthright eyes you had ever seen. This man didn’t do secrets.

“I will try,” you offered, though you knew you would do nothing of the sort. Dye days were the worst because you spent hours upon hours with one boy exclusively and you couldn’t handle that with Jimin. He was your Achilles’ Heel.

“Thanks, Noona,” he said as he closed his eyes again.

You hated him calling you Noona. It made you feel old. Sure you were both adults, but you had 7 years on him and such matches just didn’t happen in Korea. Not that it mattered, anyway, you reminded yourself as you turned to grab the hairspray, because Park Jimin would never look at you that way even if you were his age.

The boys rushed out of the room in a whirlwind shortly after with last minute checks of wardrobe, makeup and hair as they went to perform. It was always a mad house just before stage, and the boys were jumping around and singing to warm up their voices, and overall getting hyped up so they had the energy they needed to go full out. There were a lot of people there to see them, and they never disappointed.

The moment your life turned upside down though, started just as you were backstage, putting away most of your equipment and cleaning up any mess left backstage as you and your fellow stylists watched the boys performance on the monitors in the dressing room. The boys were performing Dionysus to perfection. Every move was as accurate as in rehearsal, even with the jet lag and exhaustion of the boys. They were used to it, they would say, but you always felt for them. Jimin was front and center doing his incredible solo spotlight as the boys made a V formation behind him to “Where the Party at” when it happened. Jimin’s voice squeaked and it came out rather profoundly on the monitors. The boys rarely made mistakes of any kind, or if they did it was largely overlooked by the audience, but there was no hiding this moment as he was the focal point.

You could tell by his face for that split second that he was shocked by his voice, but then he went right back to being the exceptional performer he was born to be. You forgot about it entirely until the moment the boys finished the performance and came back down the hallway to the dressing room. You were all crowded into one of the bigger rooms at the show, but even still it was hard to shove everyone in who accompanied the boys, but any crowd was quickly forgotten when you saw Jimin’s face.

He was puffy around the eyes and slightly red. His face was contorted with a grimace and there were definite tear tracks on his face. Tae had him under his arm, practically dragging him into the room. When he made it inside, he completely lost it. He started crying in earnest and fell to the floor against a wall as he shucked off his 3 million Won jacket and cast it in his makeup chair.

The makeup artist assigned to Jimin made no show of emotion as she took her kit and went to sit beside him on the floor to clean him up. She turned back toward you, who was still standing shell shocked in the middle of the room, and asked you to grab the dabbing paper from her station. You quickly went to her side and offered her the materials, which she quickly put to work. The boys would no doubt be called to stage at any time to accept one of their millions of awards they would win tonight, and there was no time for tears. You sat beside him as he attempted to get control of his emotions. RM was hovering as his stylists scurried around him and Tae was shouting praises to Jimin to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to help.

“Noona,” he said and your focus went back to his face and you saw he was looking at you as his makeup artist reapplied his eyeliner in a hurried fashion.

“Yes, Jimin?”

“I messed up. Did you see it?”

“See what?”

“Don’t joke,” he said as he adjusted his position and you tried not to make eye contact. You didn’t want him to know that, yes, you saw him, and yes, you noticed the mistake, because admitting it meant everyone saw it, everyone heard it. You wanted to distract from that, but you didn’t know how. You were quickly shuffling through a million statements you could make that would give comfort without making him feel worse, when you felt his hand slip into yours discreetly. You looked down and then straight into his eyes. What you found there had your heart beating wildly out of your chest. Such an open look of desire to be comforted, to be heard and understood, and it conveyed only a desire for honesty, and though you couldn’t ever verbalize how you knew that, you still KNEW.

You took a deep breath and looked around as all the boys and their stylists began to shuffle toward the door. Before long it would only be the three of you in here if you didn’t manage to get him up and out the door on time. His makeup artist was still going about her work with such wicked accuracy and precision that you marveled at her talent.

“You messed up?” you asked as your eyes were still on the makeup artist, “Who cares?”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you knew there was no going back. The makeup artist stopped her work and Jimin completely froze staring at you.

“You aren’t perfect, Jimin, and you aren’t made to be. Sometimes you are so insanely talented that I think the whole world forgets that you are just a guy. Just a man. And that’s ok.” At this you made eye contact with him and grabbed his hand more fiercely. Jimin was looking at you with a guarded expression, but his eyes were alight with tears or something else – you couldn’t tell.

“You know that, right? You know that you are perfect in your imperfections, even when you mess up?”

He blinked back at you but didn’t speak. The makeup artist looked at you and stood to leave the room to give you a moment. You couldn’t say why she did that, but some cosmic intervention must have made it happen, because as soon as she left you realized that you and Jimin were the only ones left in this room filled with half full garment racks, makeshift beauty stations and piles in every corner of the room filled with people’s belongings.

“Do you really think so?” He asked, bringing your attention back to his face.

“Think what?”

“That I’m perfect, even when I mess up.”

“Of course, I do! Life is messy, and it never goes according to plan, but that’s what makes it beautiful, people are the same.”

His eyes looked down in disappointment, but he wasn’t crying anymore so that was something, although that look made you confused as you felt like you were getting through to him, if not for that expression.

“You know, I failed my final exam in beauty school the first time.”

“You did?”

“I sure did. And if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here.”

“What do you mean?”

You laughed at the open look of curiosity on his face, “My dream had always been to work for YG and I probably would have stayed there forever, but because I failed and my spot was taken I bounced around from job to job with company after company until no one would take me on except Bang PDnim. And now, all this time later, I’m stylist to the biggest group in the world. How is that for No More Dream?”

He smiled at you then and even chuckled lightly under his breath, but his eyes never left your face.

You looked into his open honest eyes for only a moment and yet it could have been days for how your heart began to beat out of your chest. It was one of those defining moments in life. As you looked into his perfect eyes, it was as though you were tied together in that moment, where two souls were speaking though your bodies were silent. It was not something you could verbalize and you didn’t want to. Time didn’t exist in that moment.

That is until you heard the bell alerting them of a commercial break, which would allow them the moment to go back to their seats on the stage. It woke you up and reminded you that you were still sitting on the floor with a pop star who needed to get to his seat before the gossip started. After his mistake on the stage, he didn’t need people speculating that he was backstage crying (even though it was true).

“Ok, let’s get you out there,” you said as you went to grab his bicep, which was surprisingly firm and strong for such a skinny man, but you had no time to think on it, as he interrupted you with your name. He never called you by your name.

“Wait,” he looked at you again in earnest and you felt the blush rise on your cheeks as you waited for him to say whatever he would say.

“I know you hate being the center of attention, and getting any kind of praise, but…thank you”

“You’re welcome, Ji-“

“And…I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but…” he looked behind your back at the door that now contained no one, “If this is my only opportunity, then…”

You had no idea what he was talking about and were about to turn around and head toward the door, no matter his requests for you to wait. He had to go.

But before you got fully turned toward the door, he grabbed you by your wrists and spun you to the wall behind the open door so you would be secluded, and then crashed his perfect plush lips on yours. You had often imagined what being kissed by Jimin would feel like. Soft, gentle, like pillows against your mouth, because his lips were so fluffy looking.

This was not that, though. He was rushed for time, so his lips were tight and brutal against your mouth. In a second, when you went to take a breath, his tongue was in your mouth stealing your hastily taken breath with the greed of his. His hands were in your hair, and his solid front was pressed firmly against yours. You were taken so off guard you forgot to respond to his kiss, to take advantage of running your hands through his hair that you had just styled a few hours previously and still looked gorgeously coifed. Instead you were practically paralyzed against the wall with hands at either side of your head, but as the heat of his body seeped into yours and the semi hardness in his pants connected with your softness, you gasped in pleasure suddenly.

The sound shocked him out of his trance and he stepped away apologizing profusely to you. Instead of listening to him wrongfully assume you weren’t into him, you decided to show him just how much he was wrong by grabbing him by his neck and merging your lips back together. Like two people starved of each other you grabbed and pulled and pushed with a fiery passion and one of your legs lifted off the floor to wrap around his waist as you rubbed your center against his front seeking friction from the only man you ever wanted between your legs for as long as you live. He growled and took your leg off his waist and set you back on your feet in a show of great restraint.

His head hit your chest as he tried to catch his breath and gain control back. The bell was ringing again to say the commercial break was over.

“Fuck,” he grunted out toward the floor as his face continued to be hidden from you. “I have to go back out there.”

“I wish you didn’t, but you are right and the others will be back soon,” you said referencing the other staff.

“Please know,” he said as he lifted his head and made eye contact with you, “this isn’t just physical for me.”

You took a shaky breath through your nose to gain control of your beating heart, “Same here.”

He smiled at that, wide and with his gorgeous eyes.

“I thought I was too old for you.”

He chuckled as he wiped his pants off from sitting on the floor, “I thought I was too young for you.”

He turned to leave as you heard familiar voices approaching.

“We aren’t done here,” he said as he pointed at you and then ran out of the room, just as the others returned to the room.

You stood at the door and watched him go. At the last minute, he turned and smiled at you and like the tease you always knew he was, he licked his bottom lip and bit it.

You knew you probably looked like a love sick puppy as you leaned on the doorway watching him go with a light blush on your cheeks, but you couldn’t help it.

Just before he went on stage, though, you ran out to him calling his name. As your cover you fluffed his hair that needed no fluffing, but to him you whispered, “Don’t call me noona anymore.”

He tried to hold in his laugh but leaned down as his eyes scanned the backstage to make sure no one was looking as he whispered back, “you got it baby. I’ll see you after.”

Then he winked and was gone.

_____________________________________________________________

You did your level best to focus on the performances and your cleanup of the back room until the end of the show that night, but you couldn’t help but relive that kiss over and over again in your mind. You had kissed Park Jimin! The most famous idol in Korea. The literal It Boy of the country, probably of all of Asia. He was beyond beautiful, talented, kind, funny, and did you mention gorgeous? You kept stealing views of his perfect flirtatious eyes in the monitors as you packed up your belongings and shuffled to load the Big Hit vehicles for the end of the show. Every time you caught his eye, you felt like he was looking straight back at you (which was silly since you knew he was just looking into the camera to make eyes at the fans).

After the show everyone was exhausted and piled into the black tinted windowed vehicles to lead them back to their hotels. BTS got a private floor of the fancy hotel designed for performers and the famous actors who presented the awards. You on the other hand were staff, and not just staff, but support staff, not managerial staff, like Sejin who stayed in the hotel with the boys so he was on hand in case of emergencies, and not like the body guards and personal assistants to the group. You were just a stylist. Suffice to say, you didn’t expect you would see him again tonight when you went back to your budget hotel down the block from the venue. Jimin had promised he wasn’t done with you (the thought of that statement made something in your lower stomach twist, even as your legs rubbed together), but surely the circumstances being what they were, that would be impossible.

You were winding down for the evening after washing your face and brushing out your hair and were about to put on a sleep mask and turn on some late night TV program to fall asleep to when your door rattled as a heavy hand hit the door. Like any self-respecting Millennial, you were immediately terrified at the prospect of an unexpected visitor, and ironically, your mind was so full of his kiss that you were beyond astonished and taken by surprise, when you opened the door to Park Jimin in the flesh. You would have pinched yourself to wake up from your obviously delusional dream, but then he started walking in through the door without invitation.

You backed into the room surprised as he threw the keys in his hand on the table and started shucking off his boots as he closed the door with his leg.

“You drove here?”

He nodded.

“How did you even find where I was staying?”

“I’m clever, and Sejin isn’t as protective of his planner as he thinks he is.”

In a moment, you were in his arms. If he had given you time to consider the state of the hotel room, with your belongings strung out across the bed, including your bra and underwear you planned to wear the next day, and your cosmetics strewn across the countertops and tables, you might have been embarrassed. Instead, he was like a man possessed as he took advantage of your surprise, like he had done that afternoon at the show, as well. In a rare moment of confidence, you wondered if he had imagined being with you like this as many times as you had imagined being with him.

His mouth encapsulated yours like he was afraid you would run away if he stopped. You were so incredibly consumed, you didn’t have one thought of stopping him. It was like a dream come true. And having him in this intimate environment that smelled like you and was filled with your things after the previous night’s stay, you felt your whole body come alive.

His hands were in your hair, but his arms were so tightly wrapped around you that every inch of your body felt sealed in his arms. As he walked with you in his arms toward the bed, you only had time to think about how good he smelled, like citrus and some kind of flower. In a word, he smelled delicious. And his body was so solid against yours, and hair and skin were so soft, which you knew because you couldn’t stop your hands from devouring him even as your mouth was completely drowned in his lips.

And GOD his lips. Were there two such lips anywhere else in the world that tasted, felt, and looked this beautiful? Not that you could see them right now as your eyes were rolled back in your head in ecstasy, especially as he drove his stiff shaft into your clothed center. You moaned wantonly and he pulled away to stare in your eyes. His face flushed and lips swollen, even more than usual, as he lay you down on the bed and leaned over you.

“Is this ok?” he asked and you sputtered out a yes in reply as his smiling face fell to devour you once again.

His hands began to loosen the ties on your robe and he slowly ground his heavy anatomy into your clit, which only furthered the fire in your belly.

“Please,” you started chanting as he ripped your robe open and quickly took up residence on your unclothed chest like a man starving. You whined wantonly, who could blame you? You had to remind yourself again that Park Jimin was the one currently running his perfectly pointed tongue over your pert nipple. As he did he moaned in a voice so deep you would have believed it was someone else if not for the evidence before you. His hands were soft as they ran across your sides and your ribs and gripped with his ring clad fingers on your waist. You found yourself growing wetter by the second as you imagined him bruising your hips with those ring clad fingers. It was a thought you often had when you watched his fingers wrap around his microphone when he performed.

“I can’t control myself,” he said, bringing you out of your trance. “If you don’t want this, tell me so now.”

“I want this!” you practically screamed as you lifted your hips to grind against his clothed member. He practically growled in response as he pulled away and stared at your unclothed body. He started to slowly remove his jacket and unbutton his white button up shirt. For your part, you lifted onto your elbows to drink him in, as you pulled your robe from underneath of you and threw it across the room. You were still wearing your underwear (thank god they were cute ones) but your upper body was bare and your hair was draped in what you hoped was a seductive way. He was biting his lip, meanwhile and slowly untucking his shirt from his pants as he, one arm at a time, removed his shirt. It was so hot and sultry, you felt another gush of liquid between your legs as you moaned. Jimin, for his part, seemed to grow more bold and flirtation the more you seemed to enjoy yourself. With the grace of a dancer, he stood to his full height as he finished shucking off his shirt and tossing it across the room. Until that moment you had been fully concentrated on his eyes, but you couldn’t deny that his perfectly sculpted stomach and chest were a very welcome distraction. You had never seen anything so perfect before in your life. From his honey skin, soft and smooth and free of blemish, to his dusky nipples that made your mouth water, you were ready to eat him alive right then and there. You lifted to do just that as you took in his muscular stomach and his sexy tattoo. Your hands followed the trail of your eyes and it took no time to dig in to the feast laid before you.

Your tongue was currently swirling around his perfect nipple, when a particularly high keening noise left Jimin’s mouth. His enjoyment encouraged you to be even more bold as your hand found the front of his trousers. He took a big inhale as your hand connected with his member. The softness of his balls as you brushed them made it even more extreme of a contrast as your hand connected with his engorged manhood. It made your mouth water as you imagined taking it into your throat.

With that thought you pulled away to make quick work of his pants. Jimin was vibrating, practically, with anticipation as his hands joined yours in removing his slacks. His belt flew across the room, and his pants and boxer briefs came off in one shot like lightning. Your eyes again devoured the man, and for the rest of forever you knew you would never see anything as beautiful as a naked Jimin. He blushed slightly as you took him in from head to toe. He knew what he looked like, but obviously was not used to being appraised so fully. His blush only increased his sexiness, so you decided to tell him.

“You are literally the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

His smile could have outshined the sun and in that moment you promised yourself that you would make an effort to be vocal with him to keep that smile on his face.

Now, with only your underwear as a barrier, you both finally realized the gravity of the situation as things got more serious. You began to crawl backward on the bed, as he went on hands and knees to chase you up the bed. You bit your lip and whined at the intensity in his eyes, and he growled at your wanton behavior.

In a second he was back on you and now his unclothed dick was the star as he rolled his hips into your center. You were already so close, it was embarrassing, but you didn’t even care. You wanted him: carnally, emotionally, in any way he would give you himself and you would thank him for any shred of it.

“More baby,” you heard yourself beg, “please, more! I want more, Jimin!”

His lips met yours as he gripped onto your lower lip and bit it, causing you to whine again.

“What do you want from me, Jagiya?”

Your eyes shot open at the use of that word, but it only brought a warmth in your heart as you answered his question.

“I want you to make love to me, Jimin. Please…”

He wasted no time as he descended down your body with open mouth kisses. His pillow lips making you so crazy you thought you could probably just come from his kisses, but he went too quickly down your body and before you knew it he was biting into your underwear to pull them down your legs.

You lifted up to watch and what you saw made your heart explode and your lower lips vibrate in anticipation. There before you were the eyes of a man possessed as he stared straight into your soul and his mouth wrapped around the lace of your underwear.

God he was sexy. He always had been, but nothing had prepared you for this. He hadn’t even brought you to orgasm yet and you were already certain that he was a sex God.

As your thoughts swirled with his perfection, his glorious lips took up the position of your underwear as he slowly but surely wrapped his perfect lips around your throbbing nub. Your panting intensified and you found your hands fisting in the sheets as he began to suck. In between sucks, he would moan about how wet you were for him and instead of being embarrassed you felt sexy and powerful. Jimin had the incredible ability to make you forget his status in a moment of passion and only feel how much he worshiped you. Or at least that was what he did to you.

His fingers meanwhile, found your entrance and as your lips quivered he plunged a ringed finger deep into your hole without warning. You whined loudly as you threw your head back in ecstasy against the pillows. You felt him moan into your nub as you did so, which only intensified your internal struggle. You began panting his name as he continued to assault your nub with licks and sucks as his curved tongue would periodically flick out and tease your lower lips, whilst his first finger took a completely different rhythm, driving into you with abandon. The contrast of feelings and intensity brought you to orgasm faster than you thought possible. With a gasp, and a sharp inhale, you felt your silent scream as it racked your body with shivers. As you came down, and the sensations began to settle into over sensitivity, Jimin’s tongue licked up your liquid heat like it was ice cream. He even sucked on his first finger from ring to tip as he sighed into it at the taste of your release.

You think you might be in love.

In no time he was climbing up your body and smiling at your ecstatic face. You were so fucked out, you had no thought to be embarrassed. Instead you hooked your legs on his perfect ass and pulled him into you.

“Put that perfect dick in me this instant,” you told him as you were out of breath.

“As you wish,” he giggled. With no hesitation he drove himself into you harshly, causing both of you to exhale a fluttered breath. His forehead made contact with your own in an intimate gesture as his perfect lips pouted out to connect with your lips in a feather light kiss. You could have cried at the intensity of his gaze as he slowly began to pump in and out of you.

His dick WAS perfect, as you had said. Just the right size, not too big, not too small, and thick to stretch you in all the right places. And more importantly, he knew how to use it. He lifted one of your legs to drape across his shoulder as he ground himself deep inside of you. You had always been completely convinced that the G spot was a mystical imaginary body part, made up by women who couldn’t tell the difference between an internal orgasm and a clit instigated orgasm, but you stood corrected. As his hips rolled in a movement you had often seen when he was on stage (though admittedly, had never seen quite like this!) you felt that foreign fire burning beneath his pressure. You were about to explode again as Jimin’s hips quickened. You watched his stomach muscles clench and pull taught over and over as his wave motions grew quicker by the second and his moans grew in intensity.

“Fuck, I forgot a condom!” He shouted even as his motions grew more rapid.

“I’m on the pill. Shut up and fuck me!” You panted as you met his movements with your hips.

“God, you feel so good, Jimin.” He moaned at your praise, so you continued practically in a whine, “you are so fucking sexy, I want all of you! I’m so close again. Your dick is perfect! You are amazing! Oh my God!”

And just like that you both grew silent as you crashed over the abyss together. Your high pitched squeal came out even as your lips quivered and squeezed him of every last drop. He meanwhile groaned into your neck as his cock spluttered out the last of his cum into your waiting heat.

It took a while before you regained your breath enough to speak and when you did, you instantly felt embarrassed at the openly affectionate look on his face.

“I couldn’t wait to have you. As soon as you said it wasn’t just physical for you either, I’ve thought of nothing else.”

“I guess I should have trusted you when you said you would find me after,” you laughed, as you brushed his hair away from his face as he fell down beside you. His member was slowly decreasing in size, but you made no effort to remove him from inside of you.

“You should always trust me when I make a promise,” he said with intensity in his eyes, but immediately turned shy, like the humble duality king you knew him to be. “I hope it is ok that I came here.”

“Obviously!” you said much too quickly and much too loudly, causing Jimin to giggle and whisper ‘cute’ under his breath.

“I didn’t plan to come here just to attack you, but then I saw you and I couldn’t resist.” His eyes were on fire and completely set on you.

“I’m glad you did,” you said with a blush as you looked at your hands as you covered your face, “I’m afraid I would have been a mess if you hadn’t broke the ice, so to speak.”

“Why?” He asked earnestly and you almost laughed at how clueless he seemed.

“You have to be kidding.” When he didn’t respond, you sat up and looked him straight into his eyes as he lay back against your pillows. “You are Park Jimin, Lead Vocalist and Main Dancer of the Biggest Band in the world. It Boy of Korea, and literally the sexiest man alive.”

He smiled cockily at that last comment and asked you if you really thought so, but when you quieted him, he turned more sober.

“I get it. But all those things mean is I’m completely unavailable. My life is my job. I don’t have a lot I can offer.”

You tried to contradict him, but he stopped you with a hand on your mouth.

“Despite this…I find myself wanting to risk it all to be near you. I’ve been trying to get your attention for months, ever since you took a more primary role on my styling. I won’t lie to you, you are beautiful, gorgeous even, but I try my best not to pay attention to beautiful faces when I know it isn’t a good idea to get involved, but then you say things to me that completely change my outlook on something, or heal me with just a word, and I can’t help it…”

You were frozen in a seated position on that bed. Your cheeks were on fire at hearing this confession, and you opened your mouth to return the praise, but he stopped you with a kiss.

“Will you let me call you Jagiya? Can I be with you despite all the challenges?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he stopped you again.

“Before you answer, please think about it. We won’t be allowed to have a regular relationship. Not only will we have to be secretive with the outside world, but we will have to be secretive with the company as well. It’s never explicitly said, but I’m not publicly allowed a relationship, and in the eyes of the company this means – they don’t want to know about any exploits we have. As such, even at work, we will have to keep it a secret. Are you ok with that?”

Even with these challenges, you didn’t even hesitate when you accepted him, just as he is and promised to have him in whatever way he was able to give you.

With that he smiled like a man truly content, and his eyes swam with unshed tears, as he fell down beside you in bed. His chin upon your shoulder, as his lips coasted across your neck.

It didn’t take long for things to escalate again.

To say the least, you didn’t sleep much that night. Nor would you again for the foreseeable future.

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: Character headcanons

Dionysus:

He loves anything with any level of alcohol in it and his favorite is obviously wine. However, because of his godly abilities, he functions the in the same way a saltwater fish wood if you placed it in a tank of freshwater. only instead of dying instantly, he just slowly loses his powers and becomes dangerously close to being a mortal. So he usually keeps a supply of wine with him at all costs, and it really doesn't have to be his own wine, it could be any form of alcoholic beverage as long as he consumes it.

He has a mane of curly thick dark hair that accidentally acts like a pocket dimension. he can store something in there, completely forget it and then when he remembers it he can take it out with ease. nobody really cares about how he's able to do this except Athena, she hates it when Dionysus does this and it confounds her to no end, nobody really knows why she hates it but it's speculated that she just doesn't like his chaotic nature.

True to his wild natural look, he actually has two pairs of horns; curled ram horns and long bull horns. He has no memory of it he purposefully grew these horns himself or they may have resulted in his consumption of his wine....but he doesn't care find it to be more of an excuse to adorn his head with more interesting things he finds.

He doesn't have eccentric tastes per se but he does enjoy interesting looking jewelry, placing random objects in his hair and like his brother Apollo enjoys wearing whatever the hell he wants to wear. It doesn't matter if it's a woman's dress or overly ornate armor for no other purpose than to just wear it. The function of the clothing does not concern him, as long as it looks nice on him.

He's very simple god....in the same way your stoner friend is simple, he's is early philosophical for a guy has type and often times you'll see him do weird things that in reality actually have some serious purpose. For example you would pile small stones to form a tower only to have accidentally created the druidic tradition of establishing a location. Another good example would be him having decompulsive need to pile pine cones, according to him he's still trying to figure out what would be the purpose of this but he found out that pine cones are extremely flammable thus perfect as kindling.

He consistently smells of merlot and sweat, it's not that he isn't clean, it's just that with his consistent consumption of his own wine, he doesn't sweat normally anymore... He literally sweats wine thus occasionally giving his skin a pinkish tan hue occasionally, when he bathes his skin goes back to a normal olive-ish tan.

Although he's extremely lazy in some cases, people wipl often mistake him for being soft or weak, it has been noted that in terms of strength he has rivaled both Aries and Heracles in some bizarre manner. nobody really knows if this could have anything to do with his previous incarnation of being a very powerful entity of chaos or if it's just his god-given abilities.

Unlike his fellow gods, he loves being around mortals. He enjoys their nuanced lives and daily endeavors and tries his very best to keep everyone happy.

He's primarily a "good vibes" man 95% of the time and tries to keep the peace, but that doesn't stop him from either justifyingly getting angry or sitting back and watch the drama unfold without his assistant. You also kick your ass and he will do it again if he needs to.

His primary circle of friends/family are Apollo, Hermes, Heracles, Hypnos, Artemis, several nyphs and satyrs, Kale (Delphi's only competent broker/financial expert) and whom ever he can befriend. His secondary basically consists of everyone else whom I've not mentioned.

His wine can actually physically change you with prolonged consumption but with varying results. Many of his leopards for example, have obtained a pinkish, purple hue from drinking the wine dionysus has made for them especially, prolonging their life spans, raising their IQs a little and making them more docile.

On the topic of wine, Dionysus has made several different wines with different properties. He's made wine that acts very closely to a truth serum, a wine that can heal/cure nearly everything, a wine specifically for bacchanals and festivals, wine that actually doesn't effect small kids (for safety reasons) and a wine that can do miscellaneous things.

He's into everything in terms of entertainment, he's surprisingly very cultured in spite of his perceived persona as "the god of drunkards and heathens". So in truth there's never a dull moment with him.

The best to describe him is "a semi-chaotic force of existential calm". He's so chill about so many things, one can mistake this for being aloof or uncaring, but don't worry he's got your back.

He has a list of "dislikes"; he recently has a burning dislike of Romans, drinking water, entitled rude people (because you can be entitled but ultimately unaware of it in an ignorant way), having to do the same task over and over again, being sober (because he believes being drunk keeps something inside him at bay) and frogs....he finds frog to be extremely unreasonable in conversation.

In a more sensual sense, he's up for everything asking as it's not painful or would end in a possible bad way. This explains why he tries his best to stay away from Aphrodite as much as he can help himself.

He doesn't hate Ares, he just finds Ares to be a little too aggressive when it comes to the concept of fun.

He has 0 idea about the existence of some older members of the family, such as Eris for example. He literally has no idea he's not the only agent of chaos in Greece.

He had formed a secret "Drunkard's Society", it consists of other deities from around the world whose specialties occasionally revolve around making alcoholic beverages... if anyone asks yes Jesus (yes he's canon in greek-Bros as the son of "A God" of which no one really knows who) is part of the club by default for some reason sine he used his abilities to make wine. There's very little rules for the club, the only rule is that if possible, bring drinks.

Although he primarily is Pansexual, he is in an very open marriage with Ariadne. Being his only functional braincell, Ariadne is the one who keeps him grounded when making certain decisions, she pretty much completes him in the sense of companionship. She's also pretty compatible with his personality given her upbringing, in spite of her upbringing as a royal, she's always been more carefree and empathetic with her subjects. Plus she doesn't object to most of what Dionysus does but she knows when to step in as his partner on more serious matters. Deep down, Dionysus believes that Ariadne is the second reason why he's still alive. His first being "because my dad mpreg'ed me into existence".

He may or may not be aware of his previous incarnations, he gets weird dreams that feels very violent and feverish at times of a stress filled day. He knows he isn't like the other Olympic gods in many ways.

His seat in Olympia was gifted to him by his aunt Hestia. Hestia, being the oldest child of "The Big 6", felt it was time for her to "retire" from being part of the Olympic gods, no one really understood why she made this decision but she was extremely happy to give the seat dionysus as she personally felt he had a "certain spark" that felt was appropriate as her successor. He too, has no idea why he was given this gift but he assumes that if Hestia felt it was appropriate than it was.

Out of all the olympians, he has made friends with the most deities outside of Greece, second place would be Hermes and third would be Ares.

Apollo

Unlike dionysus, he's extremely calculative, considerably well sorted and more formal. There's always a visible method to what he does and everything has a scientific explanation, in contrast to dionysus's unpredictable meme energy.

He has a bizzarly faire complexion with literally no flaws and his skin almost glows with warmth. His blond hair has been known to also glow depending on the light. His eye color is the same shade as the sky with white pupils, but when it's night time his usually white pupil turns into the normal black, representing the passing of the daytime. The same thing happens to Artemis.

Being the god of the arts and sciences, he loves to educate people. Delos (his home island) is home to one of the best schools of thought in all of Greece.

His first passion of playing the lyre and it still is to this day, if he wasn't the god of the sun, he'd be the god of music.

He puts this persona of "the perfect guy" to mostly everyone he knows, with the exception of Hermes and Dionysus who pretty much know he's a big sensitive softy.

He's an extremely beautiful man with perfect mesomorphic body. He has very gentle mannerisms with a contrasting burning and passionate reaction to anything that could anger him. Pretty much, he's the embodiment of the sun, beautiful, giving, warm but he will burn you.

His personal tastes are similar to dionysus's in terms of preference of clothing. Anything goes and when he looks fashionable in anything, he especially loves wearing lose dresses because he feels the most comfortable in it. He barely sees a reason to assume clothing can be specific to gender norms, as long as it does its function, it suits him pretty well. To him, clothing is clothing.

He's one of the best chariot riders in Olympus, rivalling Triton and occasionally Hades.

He's pan/bisexual to put it best, but he seems to have an easier time forming lasting relationships with men than he does with his female relationships, as evident his mythos. He's not very sure why, and he desires to get better at it considering he actually has the most children in the pantheon.

He's an extremely loving father to his offspring, he's taught most of his children in the ways of art and sciences but is always surprised to see them flourish with their own specific passions and talents.

He thought Orpheus would be the son who's take his place if anything were to happen to him....until he was killed and sent to the underworld. Apollo still mourns for his son's death and doesn't blame Dionysus or his maenads. He believed that Orpheus's was too powerful, even for him

He chooses his lovers, not the other way around. It's an unfortunate trait he inherited from Zeus and it probably is the main factor in why he has such a difficult time with having female companions.

He literally knows about almost everything on almost every subject.

Like Ariadne, he's Dionysus's other braincell. Because of this, the two seem to have an ongoing battle of ideologies that grew into an extremely friendly rivalry to see who can get the most apostles and followers. There's no competitive energy between them, it just feels like a huge game to them.

His circle of friends oddly enough don't stop at Hermes and Dionysus, along with Artemis, his lovers and his muses, it seems Apollo has a surprisingly small circle of friends out of the "the bois". Inspite of his more intellectual relationship with Athena as a fellow scholar and "thinking person", he doesn't necessarily consider her an ally. In fact he actually has a very interesting list of possible foes that are mostly other members of the family. His number one rival however seems to be Eros, who has repeatedly caused him grief in the past, he's probably the second factor as to why he has such a complicated relationship with female companions.

He's a very accommodated individual, it baffles him till this day as to why his twin finds more comfort being in the outdoors than in Olympus, seeing how both of them were raised the same way. He doesn't like being dirty or getting too dirty, he's a bit if an introvert most of the time.

His favorite foods is anything grown under the sun. The only thing "fermented in the dark" he would ever consume is Dionysus's wine, which outside of ambrosia, is the only drink he trusts other than his own.

It may not look like it but he's actually a serious fighter. Especially loves using his bow and arrow and trains alongside with his twin sister.

Give me look pretty, but he will still kick your ass if you deserve it.... Or not he could just simply incinerate you out of existence. In terms of powers, out of the trio he actually does overpower them through natural force than anything.

His Muse's basically are a mixture between his group of female friends and essentially sisters by covenant. He's only had one relationship with one of the muses but outside of that he has NEVER once thought of any of them as calcubines. He will retaliate if anyone assumes otherwise, the reason being is because he would never harm or have any intentions of hurting any of his muses. They see him as a brotherly figure and teacher of the arts, NOT as a master.

Hermes

He's the one god in the family who's decided to make his life a lot more harder by having more hats to wear. He ironically likes it because it always makes him feel "closer to normal".

He's the hardest working of the trio, the only other individuals who works as hard as him is Hestia, Hephaestus and Hades.

Simultaneously, he loves lounging around eating his favorite snack, high energy foods. Bread, surgery fruits, nuts, anything to use to help his caloric intake for his long days of running.

He's literally fast enough to travel forward and back in time. At first, he was just found it strange when he would mention someone, it would be either in past tense or no body would have known who they were. After he found out that he was literally running forwards and back in time, he's been carefully pacing himself.

His favorite thing to do is observe anything really, especially loves seeing what happens after he effects something. For example, he could miss place a cup for no reason other than to see what will happen next.

Although being older than Dionysus, he's the shortest and "youngest looking" of the trio. His youthful complexion however has a dismal purpose. He notices that mortals find him a lot more approachable then the other gods. He primarily looks like a young lab in between the ages of 19 in comparison to Apollo's late 20 something and Dionysus's mid 20 something with a positive youthful disposition, the reason why is because in his "real" form, he actually is taller, pushing to late 20's to early 30's, has a little bit of facial hair, facially stern looking face of some hardened by life and overall "intimidating", not in an Ares sort of way....more like as if you can't really read what's on his mind. This may actually have something to do with the fact his speed could have actually been something he inherited from grandfather, Chronos. He hates his original body and does everything in his power to avoid showing even Apollo and Dionysus this version of himself.

He bisexual with a preference for women. He loves to experiment but that's when he gets in the most trouble. A great example would be the primary reason why his sort of least favorite son, Pan, is the way he is.... because he actually mated with a woman....in the form of a goat, since then, he has had to keep on eye on Pan due to his pension for causing problems....the bad kinds. His favorite children are Hermaphrodite and Hermanubis, he believes they're both his best out comes and both children have the best qualities of both parents.

He's extremely terrible at coming up with names for his children.

He dangerously takes more after his grandfather than he does Zeus physically and powerwise. Due to his incredible speed, his connection to everything from the underworld, to the intricate influences he has on mortal life, and even the fact he actually feels time catching up with him when he over runs, Zeus feared that his father's dark influence was on Hermes and protected him as much as possible from the scrutiny of his other siblings. This fed the fear that Hermes was to be the son to overthrow Zeus....until Apollo became Hermes's closest brother and friend and until Dionysus came along and basically padded the weird "dark prophecy" down to a grinding hult. Since then, Hermes secretly is forever in dept to both brothers for essentially proving everyone else's assumption of his dark nature wrong.

He has an extremely interesting relationship with his demigod brothers like Heracles and Perseus, with a lot of convincing, Hermes was able to get both Demigods to be considered full fledged gods by Zeus's blessings. Since Demigods age far more slower than normal mortals, unless consecrated into Olympus by Zeus, Hermes always consolidates his demi-siblings since he knows unlike the Gods, they will too one day die. He just really didn't want to lose his favorite half-brothers.

Out of the trio, he's seen the most shit. He's seen painful and peaceful deaths. Being a psychopomp isn't all fun and games unfortunately, it's the equivalent of being a doctor in terms of emotional disturbance. He does find it comforting that the only people who completely and fully comprehend what he internally goes through is Thanatos, Hypnos, Charon and Hades. All four of which constantly consolidate him on how he feels and that it's ok to go through the motions of what they call "indiscriminate mourning", a feeling of constent mourning for those who have no relevance to him but which one constantly feels empathy. In a dark humorous way, a demon in Tartarus suggested to remove his "empathy" to ease his suffering but Hermes refused because he'd rather have it than feel nothing.

Being the god of deception, he actually hides his insecurities and personal on-goings extremely well. He knows what's important is the present of things, he's seen death (literally and the god) and has seen what life has to offer. It's not going to stop him from having the best time with his brothers. Lucky for him, he tends to forget he's pretending and goes on as best as he wants to.

He loves animals. He's especially sympathetic to turtles and tortoises, he absolutely admires them for just being such a slow animal who can also be close to home. He recently discovered sloths in the continent that will soon be discovered as South America, and is completely enchanted by their slowness. He also loves 'racing' with faster animals like horses and antelope.

He is the only living being Cerberus let's through in and out of the underworld. Mostly because Cerberus never seems to catch him, thus the beast doesn't really bother, plus Hermes always brings treats for him so that helps.

The wings on his helmet are emotive when active and melds into the metal when inactive. Being the most 'human' of the trio, he can slip into a crowd unnoticed.

Out of the trio he seems the most normative, being more down to earth like Artemis. However he doesn't show the same amount of contempt for the pampered life of a god as much as Artemis does, he's comfortable where ever.

Like Dionysus, he has a very wide range of companions, friends and allies. he doesn't have a lot of enemies that he can name but he does have a bit of a complicated relationship with Ares. He doesn't really hate Ares, but he does enjoy occasionally making a fool out of him. Ares in truth doesn't mind this considering Hermes did save him from some Giants who put them in an urn....is early enough it's not that he's indebted, it's just that when he threatens to kill her is it really isn't anything.

Hermes enjoys antagonizing people isn't very fond of. Hera specifically, he tries to find every way to anger her as much as possible. Even if it results at some else's expense.

He can and will, consentingly fuck your wife. And he would do it again.

Juxtaposed to his complicated and emotionally heavy job as a psychopomp, he's an absolute funnyman. It even borders on 'Bugs Bunny' like antics.

[mythgirlimagines]

As the third day of the week begins its start, Fusion Anon began to work on his art. The submission is ready, and you better know it! Presenting Myth Anon, the Former Ultimate Poet!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

When it came to academic subjects, Myth was very skilled in anything requiring creativity, for she is able to gain creative inspiration from just about anything. While she has a love for all art forms, the one mode that catched her eye in particular happened to be poetry, particularly poetry related to people and romance. As Myth became a teenager and romantic feelings began to blossom on both sides of the hill, she began writing poems to try and woo the people she had feelings for, but alas, not many people returned the sentiment, mainly due to Myth’s odd mannerisms and speech patterns. But despite her odd speech patterns and mannerisms, no one can deny that Myth is a stellar poet, with perfect flow and emotionally-moving verses, to the point that she managed to get into Hope’s Peak, thanks to her poetic skills. As an adult, she is currently living off the revenues gained from her live poetry readings.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Procrastinator

When you consider the two’s personality traits, a friendship between Myth, the eccentric and flamboyant poet, and Wyre, the chronic slacker and part-time delinquent, would seem utterly and patently ridiculous. But Myth and Wyre have been the best of friends ever since they were young children. Whenever Myth gets rejected by a prospective love interest, Wyre would always be there with ice cream for Myth, and a little “something-something” for the people who rejected their best friend.

Outfit: A messy black gakuran over a white undershirt, longer hair that she didn’t even bother to cut, glasses from her original design.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist 

As the mastermind behind various outrageous (yet credible) conspiracy theories, Scar proclaims herself to be the “Savior of All” and yearns to protect people from the hypothesized threats that Scar claims are looming around the horizon. Scar’s whole chuunibyo act provides inspiration for a lot of Myth’s poems, particularly ones themed around darkness and evil threats. While Scar is glad to help her senpai, she is also low-key embarrassed about her whole middle-school chuunibyou act.

Outfit: A camo-patterned t-shirt, a dark purple overcoat slung over her shoulders like a cape, cargo pants, mask, gloves, and boots from original design.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Ice Skater

Famed for his grace and sheer energy upon the ice, Fusion won loads upon loads of awards from ice skating tournaments, particularly specializing in Salchows and speed-skating. Fusion is currently attempting to teach Myth and the other conmates how to ice-skate. Myth is still far from an expert, but her newly-gained skill in ice-skating gave her even more inspiration for her poems. Because Myth’s vocabulary is very similar to his good friend Purple’s, Fusion can easily understand Myth.

Outfit: A fluffy blue parka over a red and yellow leotard, red mittens that were knitted for him by a fan, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Trivia Expert

Having appeared on various trivia game shows and often seen studying in the library, Fusion II has a vast amount of random knowledge on a vast amount of random things. While Fusion II views Myth as a confident role model and wishes to emulate her coolness and confidence, Fusion II wishes that Myth didn’t intrude in the middle of her study session and start loudly reciting her poetry. The irritation is not helped by the fact that Myth can’t seem to pick up on Fusion II’s sarcasm in the slightest.

Outfit: A blue and yellow baseball cap with a yellow question mark on the front, a blue letterman’s jacket over the same red shirt from her original design, the skirt and boots from her original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Personal Assistant

Despite being polite and very efficient with his duties when on his various jobs, when off-duty, Janon couldn’t be any further from that façade, being lazy and crude to just about anybody. It was very clear that having all of those jobs at such a young age really took a toll on both his psyche and his sanity, and he wants nothing more than to finish all of his duties in record time and then collapse on the spot. Janon can’t stand Myth and her flamboyant and eccentric mannerisms, for they give him a headache that just wouldn’t go away. But deep down, Janon envies Myth’s independence and confident in being herself, while Janon views himself as a slave to PR and can’t show his true and vulgar attitude towards his bosses.

Outfit: His hair and bangs slicked back, a brown vest over a white dress shirt and a pink bowtie, matching brown pants, black gloves and boots.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Voice Actor

Famous for starring as the leading ladies in magical girl anime, Sparkle’s loud and hammy vocals have garnered her fame, despite her young age. Even when she isn’t playing a character, Sparkle’s voice is still as loud and flamboyant as you can get. Because of their similar temperaments and personas, Myth and Sparkle got along very easily. Myth was over the moon in joy, from finding someone who behaved a lot like her (flamboyant, loud and appreciates the “fine arts”) and appreciated her poetic masterpieces, on top of that. Myth regularly lets Sparkle read her poems, as vocal exercises, and Sparkle’s voice just sounds so hypnotic, when she is reading Myth’s poems in a hammy and energetic magical girl’s voice. 

Outfit: Same outfit from the original, but with bedazzled microphone and headphones. 

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Romantic, and Wet Sock, Former Ultimate Paleontologist

Egg is famous around their school for their romantic advice, while Wet Sock is a pioneer in paleontology. Despite the very different domains of their talents, Egg and Wet Sock are practically peas in a pod, particularly when it comes to inserting cursed comments into just about any situation. But just because they’re both cursed, that doesn’t mean they aren’t geniuses and respected in their respective fields. Egg, is willing to put aside their cursed comments and help Myth with her romantic troubles, and even giving her advice for her romantic poems. Egg’s twin harbor some more-than-platonic feelings for the poet, but good luck getting those feelings out of Wet Sock, for they just might threaten you with a bone shiv. 

Egg’s Outfit: Smoothed down hair, a pink off-the-shoulder sweater with a red heart stitched on the front over a white tank-top, black leggings with small pink hearts on the knees, pink slip-on shoes, glasses from original design. 

Wet Sock’s Outfit: A brown sleeveless jacket over a white tanktop that shows off their scarred arms, a tan apron with a dark brown dinosaur skeleton on the front, brown cargo shorts, brown steel-toed boots.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Ornithologist 

Having mastered the art of standing quietly and motionless, Curious is so placid and peaceful, that birds can’t help but perch on them. Thanks to their calm and passive nature, Curious is able to get closer to birds and study them. Despite being a respected genius in the study of all sorts of bird species and is even the discoverer of nearly-extinct species of birds, no one knows where Curious came from, for they spent pretty much all their life is the forest, yet is exceedingly formal and polite. Curious’s modest, polite and romantically-dense nature, contrasts heavily against Myth’s loud, dramatic, and flirtatious nature, but somehow their friendship still works, thanks to Curious’s heavy respect towards their senpai. 

Outfit: A green poncho to help them blend into the grass over a white shirt, a brown belt, black pants, brown boots and binoculars across their neck.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Astronomer

Yearning to reach the stars, and stopping at nothing until he accomplishes his goals, Nerd has brains and brawn and he is not afraid to use either of those (his brown, in particular). Graduating at the top of his astronomy academy, both physically and mentally, Nerd’s disagreeable and explosive personality means that he wasn’t able to become an astronaut, particularly after he scouter-burned a teacher who gave him a bad grade. Bad grades aren’t the only thing that can enrage Nerd, for he particularly hates flirty and flamboyant poets who constantly try to seduce him at every opportunity. But Myth is one determined poet, for she will constantly write love poems for Nerd, even if she suffers in the process.

Outfit: Same suit from his original design, but with a galaxy patterned tie.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Essayist

Despite the sheer number of academically-acclaimed essays that Eldritch wrote, it’s near impossible to find any other traces of Eldritch’s existence, apart from his self-reviewed and academically-revolutionary essays. Eldritch double-shooted, to make absolutely sure that no one could find him and trace the essays back to him. Eldritch is truly a textbook example of a shut-in, who finds it impossible to trust anybody. Because both Myth and Eldritch have talents that involve writing, Myth keeps trying to interact with Eldritch, but Eldritch just repeatedly pushes her away, while loudly claiming that he doesn’t trust her, for reasons left unknown. But Myth keeps trying, hoping that Eldritch could let his guard down one day.

Outfit: A grey hoodie with the hood-up, shorts and slippers from the original design.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Puzzle Solver

Despite being physically gifted, Dream appreciates a great mental challenge, from time to time. Whenever she’s not dancing or playing volleyball, Dream is often in the corner with a sudoku puzzle or a Rubix cube. Eventually though, Dream made world records, despite her age, thanks to her sheer speed and accuracy at completing puzzles. Eventually, Dream managed to get into Hope’s Peak with the title of Ultimate Puzzle Solver. Whenever Myth gets writer’s block, Dream would supply Myth with a puzzle to get Myth’s creative neurons firing, and it usually works, at least half of the time. Dream may not understand half of what comes out of Myth’s mouth, but she’s still a great friend to her.

Outfit: Two pink barrettes shaped like jigsaw puzzle pieces, a black t-shirt with a Rubix cube design on the front, a pink and cream flannel shirt tied around her waist, sheared green shorts, shoes from the original design.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Speedreader 

Iris has a reading comprehension way above even most adults, and reading is practically a breeze for this clumsy, yet well-meaning, bookworm. Being a massive book nerd and proud of it, Iris proudly read the entirety of her local library two times over, at unparalleled speeds, all with a big smile on her face, causing her to become a local sensation, until she was accepted into Hope’s Peak’s middle school division. Because of the vast walls of text that she reads, Iris can easily understand Myth’s eccentric and grandiose speech patterns, and translate for people who can’t understand. Iris’s naturally positive and friendly personality also helps in making friends with the otherwise eccentric and friendless Myth. 

Outfit: A blue overcoat over a black shirt and skirt, black stockings and blue slip-on shoes.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Surgeon

As a veritable medical prodigy who was born to two affluent medical professionals herself, Purple primarily specialises in surgery and operations. Despite her age and general timidity when in social situations (to the point that she often hides from others behind much larger doctors), Purple is a master at surgeries and is revered by her patients for her maternal attitude and her kind heart. Both Myth and Purple bond over their hard to understand and oddly-vocabulary, and Purple’s vocabulary helps Myth come up with new words for her latest poems. Myth is also working on giving confidence lessons to Purple. It’s taking some time for Purple, but Myth is confident in her skills, and claims that it’ll work one day.

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, but without the beret and an added white lab coat.

This series would center around the egotistical yet lovable poet, getting the love that she truly deserves. 

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PERSONALITY

Poet!Myth is flamboyant, eccentric and likes to think of herself as a charmer and a genius, and wouldn’t hesitate to show off her talent and intellect, at every chance that she gets. Poet!Myth speaks a lot like her poems: with odd metaphors and old-fashioned vocabulary, and quoting famous poets and playwrights. She usually responds to her haters by claiming that they “just don’t understand art”. Ultimately though, Poet!Myth yearns to find love and people who could accept her for who she is, and she constantly puts up the charmer facade, in hopes that it’ll work out one day.

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APPEARANCE

Poet!Myth wears her purple hair in a ponytail that is pinned by a feather quill, and the glasses from her original design. Myth wears a black overcoat with internal velvet that is slung over her shoulders like a cape, a blue vest with pink stripes on each side and a matching pink cravat, over a white dress shirt, black pants and matching black loafers.

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I hope you like this talentswap! Let me know what you think of this AU!

-Fusion Anon

[wherevermyway]

bittersweet lullabies // binchan // oneshot // 16+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin rating: mature! 16+ warnings/tags: angst, friends-to-enemies, enemies-to-lovers, symphony AU, implied sexual content (seriously, it’s barely even there and probably very easily missable), alcohol, referenced underage drinking, past seo changbin x jung wooyoung (ateez). word count: 15,000 also on AO3

originally posted: 07 february 2021

Several years ago, Bang Chan and Seo Changbin were best friends in middle school. They quickly became rivals in high school, starting not long after Changbin got the lead first chair for the viola section, something Chan had also been vying for. When Changbin became valedictorian, they got into a heated argument and Changbin swore he would never talk to Chan again.

After university, they both received offers to work in the same symphonic orchestra. When they run into each other for the first time in four years, conflicting emotions bloom, tensions arise, and it all comes to an apex when Changbin storms off into the Seattle rain, and Chan can’t let him go, not after the guilt he had after all of these years.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

“I earned this, Chan!” A voice shouted in a cold, empty hallway. “Do you understand how many sleepless nights I pulled to get here? The sacrifices I’ve made?” There was a loud clattering against metal lockers that echoed against the linoleum flooring and the bland drywall. Papers fell, scattering about the floor as the overhead lighting flickered, illuminating two young men dangerously close to one another.

A scoff came from the slightly taller, blonde man. “Do you think I didn’t work hard?” He slapped his hand against the metal locker behind the brunette man leaning up against them. “I tried so hard, had the same grades as you, the same SAT score, and yet you somehow got valedictorian? What’s your secret, Changbin?”

“Can you leave me alone, dude?” The smaller man gave the blonde a shove, and attempted to storm away, before he was tugged back by the wrist. “Come on, man, they could only pick one person for valedictorian. You still get a speech, now let me leave. I’ve got stuff to take care of.”

Chan, the blonde, shook his head, looking down to the floor. “You really think I only want a stupid fucking speech? I didn’t want to be salutatorian; I don’t want to play second fiddle to you for one more goddamned thing.” He looked back up to the brunette, Changbin, and his eyes were glistening and tinted red. “I just wanted this one thing, to be better than you at something for once. You got lead first chair for orchestra. You got lead tenor for All-State. You’ve always been better than me, and this just proves it and it hurts.”

The two of them exchanged a painful glance, but said nothing. Changbin tugged his arm away, glaring at the other man, pity hidden behind his stare. If this were some sort of coming-of-age, poorly-written Hollywood dramedy, this would be the part where they would make out against the lockers. He would ruffle his hands through Chan’s hair, tell him some cheesy line, like “fuck what everyone else thinks, I may be valedictorian, but you’re the top of the class in my heart”.

However, this was real life. Nothing worked like the movies.

“What’s done is done, Chan,” the brunette sighed, rubbing his wrist. “Grow up and get over it. I’m tired of doing this shit with you every time I earn something and you throw a fucking fit and get jealous.” Changbin turned away, stepping on some of the discarded papers as he quickly walked away, down the corridor. “Don’t ever talk to me again,” he shouted, his voice firm and bouncing against the hard surfaces, echoing loudly in the emptiness.

Chan shook his head and let a tear slide down his face. “I miss the old us.” He remorsefully whispered to himself, dropping to his knees and collecting up the papers he dropped when he shoved the younger man into the lockers. He missed his former best friend, lamenting over how much he let his competitive nature ruin their friendship, the only friendship that really mattered to him.

Four years after Chan and Changbin graduated high school, they still found themselves thinking about each other as they graduated from university. Changbin had somehow completed a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in four years during his time at Yale, and Chan finally got his coveted valedictorian title at Dartmouth. They may have hated each other, not speaking at all in four years, but they were polite enough to give each other half-hearted congratulatory messages on social media for university graduation.

Everyone did it, right? It was the thing to do for birthdays and graduations, like some unspoken rule. Perhaps it would bring them closer, start the path of building up the bridge back to friendship that they had burned years ago. It was unlikely, but he’d never know if he never tried.

Chan wondered how much Changbin had changed in the previous four years. He had typed up an apology that spanned several pages of text, had it saved in his message drafts for weeks, but never built up the courage to send it. The overwhelming guilt and shame for treating his former best friend so poorly would never allow him to send that message.

Changbin appeared to be happy for once, losing himself in his studies and performances, happy and in love with his fiancé Jung Wooyoung, a classmate of theirs that also ended up at Yale. Everything seemed to be going well for him; Changbin had just accepted a job with some renowned symphonic orchestra that he was moving cross-country for.

Perhaps they would never mend, and this was fate telling Chan to move on.

Changbin saw Chan’s polite “congrats, man” timeline post, and couldn’t help but scoff at how insincere it came off to him. He had stalked Chan’s profile for the entire four years they didn’t speak to each other, seeing some bad drunken frat party photos, reading interesting concepts he proposed about the transformational theories in music, and watched a couple of short-lived relationships bloom and subsequently fizzle out within only a couple of months. Chan was always chaotic, and Changbin kind of missed that unpredictable nature about him. Someday he’d reach out, he figured, but that day wasn’t today.

It had been a couple of months since graduation. Changbin had a stressful time planning a move cross-country that his now former fiancé didn’t support. Fuck it, he figured, a career with the symphonic orchestra in Seattle was worth it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, something that was incredibly selective, that he was invited to be a part of, and he deserved it. Wooyoung was halfway out of the door, anyway. They were always picture-perfect online, but Wooyoung stopped putting in any effort into the relationship well over a year ago, something about “focusing” on some technical project that he’d likely never complete.

Wooyoung never completed anything, and when Changbin broke off their engagement, the younger man simply shrugged it off.

It didn’t matter. Out with the old, in with the new. Whatever it took to convince Changbin to stay sane, to feel like he hadn’t wasted three years on someone not worth his time. He didn’t resent Wooyoung, but their relationship felt like it was lacking from beginning to end. Maybe he would find someone that would light a spark within him on the other side of the continent.

From the week he spent in Seattle during his interview and audition, Changbin deemed that Seattle was far superior to Connecticut, anyways: something about its dreamy, rainy, “chronically sipping lukewarm earl grey tea while listening to chill synthwave” vibe excited him. It was something completely different than what he was used to, and it was going to be drastically different than the uptight nature that the east coast gave off.

Connecticut was vivacissimo. Seattle was andante . It was time for something calming and slow paced for once in his life.

It only took Changbin an hour to bring in everything from his car and settle into his new apartment. The human resources team was kind enough to help him find a cozy, furnished apartment that was a short walk away from work. It was nestled in the bustling Capitol Hill neighbourhood, and he knew he was going to love sitting inside and watching people scurry about from his third-floor balcony. He had a few days to settle in before he would show up for orientation, and he couldn’t wait to explore the area.

For now, though, he would unpack a bit, then sleep. A week and a half of driving cross-country, while beautiful, was exhausting. Three thousand miles. Constant playlist shuffling. Talk radio while driving through Illinois and Wisconsin to hear asinine political commentary. Getting carsick and vomiting where I-90 met I-35 in Minnesota. Nearly breaking down close to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. Almost hitting a coyote in Montana. Seeing the sunrise as he drove over a mountain pass as he approached the Idaho state border. The thrill of finally approaching Seattle and getting lost as he made a wrong turn, somehow ending up in Tacoma. It was an adventurous trip, but it sapped the life from him.

There was one thing, however, he could rely upon to restore his drained energy: his viola.

He took his prized, cherished viola out of its well-maintained case, running his thumb over the chip under his chin rest, and Changbin felt like he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. This viola got him through so many hard times in life, keeping him grounded and sane regardless of how hectic his schedule was from the last half of high school and all throughout university. If he was stressed, he would simply take the viola out of its case and let something flow from him.

As he brought the viola up to his chin, strategically placing his fingers at the end of his bow, he looked out the window taking in the view of the sunset, and aimlessly started playing something. It somehow slowly blended into his part from Lament, which was a duet that he and Chan had performed their junior year of high school.

Perhaps it was because Chan had been invading his thoughts lately, but his improvised practices always turned into Lament . It was a beautiful duet; they had won first place at the state competition for it, earning a perfect score, which was something that was incredibly rare; it helped them pad their resumes to get into Ivy League universities. They practiced for months, starting the summer before their junior year, because they wanted to actually take home an award for it. “We’ll show them,” Chan arrogantly smirked as he puffed out his chest. “We’re better than just some deeper violins stuck in the middle of the orchestra. That’ll teach them all for making fun of us.”

Changbin remembered being nervous about it. The sweat beading on his palms as they waited in the wings of the stage prior to their performance, the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, the sound of the blood rushing between his ears. He was so nervous that he would trip, or he would drop his viola, maybe that everything would go impossibly wrong. However, the minute he and Chan looked at each other as they prepared to start their duet, a sense of calm overtook him, and he lost himself within the music.

Somehow, they managed to make it through the entire performance without faltering. As soon as they were hidden behind the black curtains of the stage, Chan gave Changbin the closest, warmest hug he had ever received in his life.

“I told you we’d do it, man!” Chan excitedly whispered into Changbin’s ear. “You fucking killed it!”

“You did really well, too,” Changbin had shyly whispered back, offering a couple of nervous pats in between Chan’s shoulder blades. He remembered feeling lucky that the backstage area was so dark, because it was very obviously apparent that he was blushing.

He pulled himself from the memory, unable to finish playing his part from the duet, the notes sounding correct, yet feeling dissonant in his heart as he played. His shoulders drooped as he stared off into the skyscrapers far off in the distance. Sure, the relationship he had with Wooyoung was tumultuous, but Changbin wasn’t entirely innocent, either, often daydreaming about Chan during the most inopportune times.

When Wooyoung would dance his fingers against Changbin’s bare flesh in the darkness of their room, he was guilty of letting his mind wander to the what-ifs: what if Chan were there? Would Chan nip at Changbin’s neck with the same passion? How warm would Chan’s breath feel against his earlobe as his teeth dug into the tender flesh? Would he take Changbin in his arms and pepper his skin with soft kisses and haphazard ‘I love you’s as they tangled themselves up in each other?

It was insufferably suffocating, being weighed down by the ghosts of his past as he tried to move forward with his life.

For a long time, Changbin was infatuated with Chan. Starting in seventh grade, he wanted to spend time with only Chan; they would spend their weekends and summer vacations together, text each other until they fell asleep, and they were a part of all of the same extracurricular activities. To most people, all the way up until their junior year, they were essentially brothers that weren’t related by blood.

Nobody could have been closer than them.

One night, not long after they received the results that they had gotten a perfect score on their duet, Chan invited Changbin to a party at their friend’s house. Changbin, being the shy introvert that he was, would have said no otherwise, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Chan. There was nothing special or memorable about the house party itself, not until they both drunkenly stumbled into an empty bed together.

They had slept next to each other several times, but this was different. Changbin wrapped his arm around Chan’s chest, tucking his head underneath the elder’s chin, letting himself get lost in the warmth of their embrace. The alcohol convinced him it was a great time to be honest — perhaps a bit too honest.

“Chan,” Changbin had slurred out in a near-whisper. “Can I, uh, tell you something?”

“What’s up, dude?” Chan responded, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Changbin took in a deep breath, and sat up, staring down at Chan in the dark. “I think…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed audibly, “I think I kinda like you?”

Chan just laughed, patting Changbin’s thigh. “I like you too, dude. It’s why we’re friends.”

“Nah,” the brunette huffed, smelling the stale, cheap beer on his breath and shuddering as he shook his head. “Not like that.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“Like,” a moment passed and Changbin recoiled into himself. “I like you, dude. I wanna take this to the next level. I dunno, man, this shit’s awkward and hard to admit.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Chan sat up and leaned in close to Changbin. “Bin,” he sighed, firmly gripping his junior’s thigh, “I like you, too, but I don’t know. We could, like, seriously fuck up our friendship. I mean, you saw what Seonghwa did to Hongjoong when they went from friends to boyfriends.” He hiccupped and awkwardly chuckled to ease the tension blooming between them. “I don’t wanna ruin what we’ve got, since we’re basically brothers and shit.”

Changbin shook his head. It really was stupid, after all. The alcohol, however, gave him confidence that he didn’t ask for and didn’t need right now. He batted his eyelashes and brought his face in, up close to Chan. “Can I at least kiss you to see how it feels?”

Chan giggled, likely out of nervousness and drunkenness. “I mean, I don’t see why not. But neither you nor I have kissed anyone, ’s probably gonna be weird.”

“I don’t care.” The words left Changbin’s lips as he boldly reached up to Chan’s neck, pulling them closer to each other. It was awkward, painfully obvious that they really didn’t know what they were doing. Their lips were a little too dry for it to feel as magical as Changbin expected. Still, they continued; a tiny spark igniting between the two of them. It may have been awkward, but it didn’t feel wrong.

Chan brought his hand up to Changbin’s soft, brown hair, letting his fingers grip the strands gently. He brought his other hand up to the small of the brunette’s back, pulling him in. They couldn’t quite figure out which side their noses should be on, and when they opened their mouths to let their tongues adventure around, they clashed their teeth together one too many times, causing pain to echo throughout their heads.

Regardless of the awkward nature of their kiss, it was perfect for them. It felt like they kissed each other for hours, eventually rolling around the sheets, fingers skirting around on warm, flushed skin. Changbin didn’t even remember falling asleep, just the comfort of losing himself in Chan’s touch.

The next morning, however, was far from perfect. They were both grossly hungover, and Chan was oddly distant. “I dunno, dude,” he had sleepily grumbled, avoiding looking at Changbin at all, “I still don’t know if this is right.”

Chan was going to say more, but Changbin waved him off in a panic with feigned confidence. “Nah, dude, it was just us being drunk.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry for being weird, I guess I was just a little too curious to have a kiss. Shame our first kisses were while we were drunk, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chan awkwardly smiled, “little weird, but whatever.”

Unsurprisingly, they started having problems not long after that. Chan had started getting irritated with Changbin putting more and more focus into his studies, starting to surpass him academically. Then, Changbin got first chair for the violas in orchestra. He beat out two seniors, and Chan was right behind him. Chan was always right behind him in everything. They were so close, they were like minor seconds in a chord: just two notes right next to each other that sounded uncomfortably dissonant when played together.

When Changbin got stressed, he focused. Conversely, when Chan stressed, he brooded.

“Come on, man,” Chan had whined right after practice one day, “you and I both got that perfect score on our duet. How’d you get lead first chair over me?”

The annoyance of Chan’s constant negative behaviour was draining on Changbin, causing the younger man to grow more and more irritated by the second. “I don’t fucking know, okay?” He snapped while opening his viola’s case. “Someone had to get it, and it was me. Stop taking out your shit on me, man, it’s exhausting.”

Chan frowned in response. “I’m not taking it out on you,” he huffed, “you’re just getting a lot of good shit lately, and it’s not fair.”

“You should have fucking tried harder, then!” Changbin shouted, taking a step towards Chan, clutching the neck of his viola tightly. “You know what’s not fair? What’s not fair is the fact that you’re being a broody sack of shit at me because you’re just not practicing as hard or studying as hard and that’s not my goddamned fault! You need to grow the fuck up, dude.”

Chan scowled and shoved Changbin back in anger, harder than he anticipated. He didn’t expect it to be such a rough shove, but Changbin didn’t always have a good sense of balance. The younger man tumbled backwards, and his viola hit the ground with a thud, a discordant twang coming from the delicate instrument and echoing throughout the room.

The silence that followed the scuffle was deafening. Chan tried to apologize, knowing just how important Changbin’s viola was to him, but he just incoherently sputtered and panicked. Changbin stared up at Chan in horror, blinking away tears that were budding up in his eyelids.

“How could you?”

It was the last thing that Changbin said to Chan for months.

The memories flooding up in Changbin’s head caused a gnawing pain to bloom within his stomach as he stared out the window, the sky now a deep shade of indigo. He sighed, then put his viola back into its case. He thought playing it would make him happy, more comfortable in his new apartment in a new town, but it just made him feel cold and alone. It felt like there was nothing but dissonant chords reverberating inside of him.

Changbin stared down at his viola, hesitating to close the case. The chip from the day it collided against the ground was still there, glaringly obvious as the memory burned itself into his head. He recalled that the musician that repaired his viola offered to fix it up, even though it was just a surface blemish and wouldn’t cause any musical problems. “No,” Changbin had told the man, “it’s right under the chin rest, so I’ll see it every time I go to play it. It’ll remind me to be more cautious.”

Cautious of his instrument, that’s probably what it sounded like to the musician. What Changbin really meant, however, was how he’d be cautious of letting anyone close to him in the future, no matter who it was.

Uncertainty rushed over him, but Changbin was certain of one thing: he needed to get Chan out of his head. Sooner, rather than later. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when he started with the symphony.

Maybe he’d be alone forever.

Monday came quickly, and Changbin was running early. He had left far too early, showing up nearly an hour before he needed to be at the practice hall. He shrugged the nervousness from his shoulders as he made his way to a nearby cafe to grab something caffeinated to help perk him up. Seven in the morning was far too early for his schedule after all of this time off from university.

It was a brief walk, maybe only a couple of minutes to the cafe down the street. Changbin opened the door, inanely scrolling through his emails as he walked through the front door and got in line. There was one email from the conductor, Lee Minho, sent out to everyone earlier that morning, welcoming the new members of the orchestra. Names, ages, instruments, and where they were from.

“What can I get for you?” The barista at the counter politely asked, causing Changbin to look up from his phone, his face flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered, locking his phone, sliding it into his pocket. “I’ll take a shot in the dark, medium, three shots, please.”

“Your name?”

“Changbin.” He was curious to see how terribly the barista would butcher his name as he tapped his card against the payment terminal. A minute later, he stepped off to the side, grabbing his phone to scroll through the email again. Since he was early, he might as well try and learn who was who and where they sat, what they played.

The wind and brass instruments were first. A new French horn player, a new trombonist, a new bassoonist, a new flautist. He was about to scroll through the percussion and string players when the second barista mumbled something that sounded kind of like his name. He walked up and grabbed the paper cup that was placed on the countertop, eyeing the scribble on the cup that barely resembled his name, rolling his eyes at the attempt.

Changbin took a cautious sip of the hot liquid as he made his way towards the front of the cafe, taking a seat at the window bar, placing his viola case down on the ground and his cup on the table, looking through his email. He didn’t care about the percussion section, but when he got to the strings, he perked up a bit. Two new violinists, two new violists, and a new cellist.

There was another new violist along with him, and Changbin bit his lip in excitement. He wondered who they were, where they were from. Then he saw the name, right under his. He stopped tapping his toes in excitement and his jaw dropped. If he was holding his coffee cup, he would have dropped it in shock.

Viola: Changbin S., 22, Connecticut. B.A., M.M., Music: Yale University.

Viola: Chan B., 23, New Hampshire. B.A., Music Performance: Dartmouth University.

“Holy shit,” Changbin whispered as all of the colour drained from his face. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way that Chan was actually in Seattle. There had to have been another Chan from Dartmouth that was coming all the way here, right? That it wasn't just some crazy fever dream that Changbin was having?

He sat and stared at the email on his phone until the screen automatically turned off from inactivity. If Chan was seriously going to be in the symphonic orchestra with him, right next to him, what was he going to do? The two of them hadn't said anything more than polite passing phrases over their birthdays or for their graduations over social media, for fuck's sake. What the hell was going to happen when — no, if, it had to stay as an if — the two of them met?

The soft bell of the front door opening made Changbin shake his head, crashing back to reality. He turned his phone over, putting it down on the counter so he didn't have to look at it, and brought his cup back up to his lips. The coffee in the cup was nice, a bit more mellow and mild compared to the coffee he was used to on the east coast, like this was brewed with care and love, not in a hurry for someone just trying to get their fix.

“That's the third symphony,” a quiet voice came up behind Changbin, his ears twitching a bit as he heard something related to music. Perhaps this person was another musician, part of the orchestra? Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he turned his head over his shoulder and actually dropped his cup, spilling the warm liquid all over the table and into his lap. In a rush, he grabbed his phone as he stood and let out a crisp, sharp interjection.

As the coffee cooled in his lap and the barista from earlier approached him with a towel, his brain caught up to the realization that his former best friend-turned-rival, Chan, was right behind him. Before he could fully process what that meant, Changbin found himself madly dashing back to his apartment, phone in one hand, viola case in the other. Reality hit him in the face and burned as much as his scorched legs as he collided into the door of his apartment.

This wasn't a dream.

Changbin was thankful that he was always early to things. After rushing to apply some burn cream to his legs and change into a fresh outfit, he had somehow made it back to the concert hall with fifteen minutes to spare. He gripped the handle to his viola's case tightly, palms sweating as he tried so hard not to panic. Beyond the doors of the practice hall, he knew that Chan was going to be there. Nothing he did could prepare him for that, and he knew it.

He took in a deep breath, and let off a quick exhale as he pushed the door open. The crowd of other players was massive — there had to be nearly a hundred people crowded up in small circles. The newer people were very obvious, awkwardly off to the side in their respective sections. Some people were off in random seats, tuning their instruments. Then, in the middle of the room, he saw someone seated, alone, anxiously scrolling through his phone. It was the same brassy blonde that was in the cafe.

Chan.

Almost as if the energy in the room cooled as Changbin entered, Chan shifted in his seat and aimlessly scanned the room, looking at the other members, until his eyes landed on Changbin, and his lips parted. They stared at each other, seemingly like they were frozen in space and time, that there was no one else around. A conflicting rush of warmth, excitement, and terror washed over Changbin all at once as he stared at his former best friend.

Changbin shook his head, letting his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. “This is going to be fine,” he quietly reassured himself as he walked towards the middle of the room. “You two don't have to look at each other, speak to each other, just be civil. If you're lucky, you won't even have to interact much. Hopefully.”

That was a boldfaced lie, but it helped reassure Changbin in the slightest way possible.

“Hi,” Chan awkwardly whispered as Changbin got close. “Long time, no see, huh?”

He simply couldn't resist looking up at Chan and somehow wrinkling his face up into an uncomfortable grin. “Hi, Chan.” His tone was a bit cold, but what else could he do? They left each other on horrible terms, not even speaking to each other during their high school graduation ceremony. Changbin had given his valedictorian speech, and remembered Chan walking up to the podium, giving him a pitiful expression as they crossed paths.

“Looks like your assigned seat is right next to me.” There's a tapping noise as Chan's fingernail repeatedly strikes the plastic seat next to him. A large, black binder sat atop the chair, with "Changbin S., Viola’ emblazoned on the top of it in silver, serif lettering.

Fate was a cruel bastard.

Changbin stifled a sigh under his breath, placing his viola's case underneath the chair as he grabbed the binder. He sat down in his seat, pretending to rifle through the paperwork. There was simply no way that he could focus, knowing that Chan was right next to him. It was completely awkward and uncomfortable. Changbin could practically feel the warmth of the blonde sitting next to him, even though they were about a foot away from each other.

“We're gonna pretend like all that time together never happened, huh?” Chan's voice was cold, and he tsked as he brought his phone back up to his face. “I really thought four years would've changed you, Bin.”

Changbin slammed the binder shut and leaned into Chan's face. His eyes darted around, knowing that he was getting some strange glances from people that weren't preoccupied, but it didn't matter. “You're the one that refused to grow up and handle things responsibly like an adult. I don't want to hear another fucking passive aggressive word about this from you.” His tone was hushed, but venomous and seething. “You had all this time to apologize, but you never did. I sincerely hope we don't have to interact much, because this two year contract is going to be hell on me if you're here.”

Chan scoffed. “Whatever, dude,” he shook his head and looked back to his phone. “I just wanted to try and be civil, but if you wanna play that game, then you can. Go right ahead.”

This was outrageous. Changbin opened his mouth to say something, but a man with a calm demeanour walked into the room, his presence demanding attention from everyone as they scattered to their seats.

“Good morning, everyone,” his voice boomed throughout the corridor. It was soft, inviting. “Welcome to your first day of the season. If you would kindly find your seats, we'll get started in a few moments.”

Changbin awkwardly fumbled with his binder, resting it on the music stand in front of him, then bent down to pick up his viola's case. He undid the latches, and pulled out the instrument, his eyes fixated on that damned chip under the chin rest. Naturally, after he stared at the chip for longer than necessary, he lifted his eyes up to Chan, who was rubbing his bow against the brick of resin in his hand.

Chan was always delicate with his instrument. He put in so much love when he polished his viola prior to competitions and performances, always lovingly eyed the hairs of his bow as he carefully watched the resin coat each strand. Typically, he would hum some inane melody to himself as he got lost in the process, in the care of what he did.

Today, Chan wasn't humming.

It felt like the energy around him had gone from its usual bright cheerfulness, and turned into a dark, gloomy cloud.

“Please,” the instructor spoke yet again, looking up from his stack of paperwork on the podium, “if you haven't done so, begin tuning your instruments. Hopefully they're all tuned up, but I'm sure some of you have been slacking since we last practiced together, hmm?”

Changbin didn't need to tune his viola, since he tuned it last night in anticipation, but he went along and pretended to tune it with his plastic electric tuner. The light shone green as he kept strumming against the C string. Changbin tried to stare at the light, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Chan. While he wasn't humming, the elder still put in so much tender energy while he cared for his viola.

It had been all this time, but Changbin still felt his abdomen and chest light up with fire when he saw Chan, no matter how much it hurt. It was apparent that Changbin was still so madly in love with him, even after all of these years and all of the emotional torment they had put each other through.

This man was going to be the death of him.

The beginning of the first day with the symphony wasn't eventful. There were some warm-ups and some scales practice, but that was simply to get everyone prepared for the performance season. After all of that, the conductor, Minho, went through each section and asked the new members to introduce themselves. Percussion went first, then woodwinds, brass, strings. Second-to-last was the viola group, and Chan went first.

“Chan,” he said with a smile, his dimple prominently on display, “I'm 23, originally from New York, but I've been in New Hampshire for the past four years thanks to university. I recently graduated, with honours, top of my class, from the music performance faculty at Dartmouth. I hope we all get along well and you'll treat me kindly. Let's have a great season!” He sat down, and his smile faded as Changbin rose.

“Yeah, uh, hello,” Changbin awkwardly stuttered, folding his hands together behind his back. “I'm Changbin, 22, also originally from New York, but I've been in Connecticut for the last four years where I matriculated at Yale. I have a bachelor's and master's in music, specifically: music performance for viola and piano. I've been playing the viola for most of my life, and I hope I will serve everyone well here. Uh,” he paused, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.”

There were a couple of polite chuckles as Changbin sat down. Despite having a penchant for giving well-manicured speeches, he hated giving unprepared introductions. He felt tense enough already, knowing that Chan was right next to him, making him all the more uncomfortable.

The new violinists introduced themselves, and Minho clapped once. “Excellent,” he praised. “Now that introductions are out of the way, please split off into your respective subsections until I'm able to get to each individual group and assess your skills for placements. Those of you that have finished by your lunch break are welcome to leave, unless your principal seat deems otherwise.”

A couple of musicians groaned.

“It's nearly autumn,” Minho said with a soft smile as he adjusted his necktie, “you all know that placement seats, other than principal seats, aren't guaranteed.”

Changbin nervously swallowed. He knew that placements were, yet again, going to be a source of contention for both of them. Chan was top of his class at Dartmouth; Changbin was top of his class at Yale. Both of them were going to be a force to be reckoned with, especially up against other top-class talent.

This orchestra recorded for multiple high-budget films and would perform in the pits of renowned theatrical performances. There were just over a hundred seats in the orchestra, but thousands applied for open spots after contracts ended and spots opened up. It was nerve-wracking, and Changbin wasn't confident that he, for the first time since high school, would be placed in one of the first viola chairs.

“Hey,” a voice perked up as everyone started to shift around and break off into their own groups. “I'm Seungmin,” a young man stood in front of Chan and Changbin, probably about the same age as them. “I'm the principal chair for the viola section. Changbin and Chan, right?” Both of them silently nodded once in affirmation. “Nice, Ivy Leaguers like me. Cornell, graduated last year. Anyway, don't worry too much about placements. Not much you can do until you actually have to perform, and Minho is pretty great about making you feel comfortable if you're nervous. Why not come meet everyone in the section?”

There were polite greetings and less-formal introductions shared, a couple of people made jokes to ease the tension, as to be expected. Seungmin discussed the projected schedule for the season, going over some of the pieces that they would need to practice together and individually. They went over all of the general housekeeping, discussed the placement procedures, and that they were free to go after they were done, since there was no real point in sticking around for the rest of the day.

“Alright, well,” Seungmin stood up as his alarm went off, “lunch starts now, so I'm gonna head off. See ya in an hour; just meet up here and don't be late. For strings, the violin section goes first, then us.”

Changbin looked down to the floor, an uneasy pit growing in his stomach. Part of him knew he should stay and practice, just to get his mind in the right order, but he couldn't pull himself away from the fact that Chan was still there, right next to him.

“Get up,” Chan muttered, lightly tapping Changbin's chair with his foot, startling the brunette to attention. “Look, dude,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and huffed with discontent, “I know we haven't spoken in years, but there's some things I wanna talk to you about before we go in and compete against each other for yet another stupid thing. Come grab lunch with me, alright?”

“I'm not hungry.” Changbin's eyes darted to the side, furrowing his brows in frustration. He just wanted to focus on practicing his piece for placements; there was no time to worry about eating at a time like this.

“No,” an exasperated sigh came from Chan as he folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “You're just nervous and you don't wanna talk to me. Unless you've drastically changed, you do this shit before performances, too. Just come on, it's not gonna be that bad, I promise.”

Changbin wasn't sure why he agreed to this. The two of them sat at a table in the hipster pho shop next to the cafe, awkwardly poking at their warm bowls of noodles and broth as they sat in silence for at least a good five minutes. “So,” the younger man sighed, “what did you want to talk about?”

The blonde sucked his lips in between his teeth and chewed on them for a second before he set his chopsticks down into the bowl and looked up, meeting Changbin's gaze with a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. “Changbin,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side, “all those years ago, I was horrible to you.”

“I know.” The brunette abruptly cut him off, seething through his teeth while he sat back in his chair.

“Bin,” the older man shook his head, his eyes wincing with pain, “dude, I had this big ass draft saved in my messages that I wanted to send to you after we graduated.” He brought an elbow to the table and nestled his head into his palm. “For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ever send it. I don't know why; it was probably out of embarrassment and cowardice. The way I treated you all that time, over some stupid competitive shit, I'm sorry, Changbin. Honestly, I'm so sorry.”

A tsk left Changbin's lips as he rolled his eyes away, looking at the wall to his side, just for a moment. He leaned in, pressing his arm into the table, mere inches away from Chan. “Yeah, you did a lot of shit, and yeah, I know you’re sorry or whatever. But you know what hurts me the most, Chan?”

Chan nervously swallowed and bit his lip.

“You did all of this shit to me after I kissed you. None of this started until then.” Changbin shook his head in disappointment. “I'm not upset about the way you reacted, not really, at least, but I am upset over the fact that you kissed me back so hard, like you actually wanted me as more than a friend. After all that, you started treating me so horribly, like you had to prove that you were better than me. Like our years of friendship suddenly didn’t matter anymore.”

“Changbin, I just couldn’t—” Chan started, but Changbin sat back and shook his head, speaking up and cutting off the blonde.

“You hurt me.” There were tears budding up in the brunette's eyes. “It's taken you four and a half years to apologize. Chan, I’ve waited for fucking years for this. I wish you would have sent me some bullshit, half-assed stupid text message apology that summer. It would have hurt less than this. All of this time, I thought you hated me. That my best friend wanted nothing to do with me. Nothing else hurts more than that, to have your favourite person in the entire world suddenly hate you, and it’s all because you thought he had feelings for you, too, but he just threw them back in your face and laughed at your pain.”

Changbin stood up and grabbed his phone from off of the table. “I'm not ready to forgive you, Chan. Not after all of this shit. So, please,” a couple of tears rolled down his face as he bit his bottom lip, “just respect me enough to leave me alone for a little while. I need to think about this, about us.”

He stormed off before Chan could attempt to stop him. An overwhelming fear of nervousness took over: partially due to the unsteady ground their relationship was on, and partially due to the fact that his placement exam was going to take place soon, and Changbin was nowhere near the right mental capacity for that.

“Shouldn’t have done this,” Changbin whispered to himself as he wiped the tears from his face, his footsteps hard and heavy against the concrete sidewalk. “Fuck you, Chan.”

“Capriccio,” Minho smiled, his face relaxed and expression warm. He held his clipboard in hand as Changbin eyed the sheets of music in front of him. “Composed by Vieuxtemps. I picked this as the sight reading for today’s placement exams.” The conductor was welcoming enough, but his calm demeanour didn’t ease the nervousness vibrating throughout Changbin’s body.

All those years ago, I was horrible to you. Chan’s apology still sounded so clear in his head, Changbin constantly replaying the memory unwillingly as the notes on the sheet music danced around, tangling itself up into an unintelligible mess.

“Changbin?”

I’m so sorry, Changbin. He was so angry: at Chan, at himself, at the fact that he ran away, that he couldn’t concentrate on the important task at hand in front of him.

“Hey,” Minho’s voice was layered with concern as it pulled Changbin from his thoughts. “Are you feeling alright? It’s just a standard placement exam, nothing to be too nervous over.”

Changbin stood in the empty office, viola carefully cradled in his hands as he blinked his way back into focus, the sheet music suddenly becoming clear and normal. “Sorry,” he shook his head, trying to rid Chan’s voice from the depths of his ears, “I guess I’m just nervous.” Capriccio. It was a piece Changbin had heard, but he had never played it before, as to be expected for sight reading, but the anxiousness in his stomach blossomed like a large black lily of doubt, poking its petals at his ribcage. “How long do I have to look at this?”

“I’ll give you two minutes to look over it,” Minho leaned against the back of his chair and rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Once you’re ready to start playing, I’ll take notes. We’ll do the scales exercise before that, as well as a piece of your choosing. Are you sure you’re ready, Changbin?”

“I’ll be fine,” Changbin huffed, trying to calm the nerves inside of him as he readied his viola. He had to be fine, he had to beat out Chan with this. “Let’s do the scales, then.”

Changbin kept telling himself that had to beat Chan, but he didn’t know exactly why.

“Hey, man!” Seungmin said with excitement as he patted Changbin on the back, right outside of the practice room. “How'd it go?”

Changbin groaned and rolled his eyes, gripping the neck of his viola a bit tighter. “It was alright,” he grumbled, walking to where his case laid on his chair. Chan had gone before him, and was deliberately looking away from Changbin as he approached. As soon as he started shuffling with his case, Chan got up with an exasperated sigh and walked away.

“Are you two,” Seungmin pressed, lowering his voice as he approached Changbin, “do you know each other or something? I'm getting some weird vibes from you both.”

The brunette gritted his teeth as his bottom eyelid twitched. “We were classmates, yeah,” he admits, “back in high school.”

“Oh! That's exciting!”

“No,” Changbin sighed, “I wish it was more interesting than that, but we stopped talking after we both got into different universities”. It wasn't a complete lie, yet it wasn't a complete truth, either. Changbin quickly weighed the options of being honest with Seungmin about how strained their relationship was, and chose to just fake it for the greater morale of the group. They were both too new to start something so petty so early on in the season.

Seungmin grinned as Changbin turned around. “Well, hey,” he bopped his head back and forth to the side, humming a bit, “it's kinda cool when you've got people that know each other and work well together in the same group. Maybe the violas will be a bit stronger this year.”

“We'll see,” Changbin said with a fake smile. Whether he was talking about the group or about his relationship with Chan was uncertain.

It was nearly a full day until placement results were revealed. Both Changbin and Chan got first chair, but they were at the bottom of five. What stung the most, however, was that Chan had beaten Changbin, likely due to nerves.

Changbin was at the bottom of something for the first time in his life, and he didn't know how to handle the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

“Sorry,” Chan whispered as they both stared at the sheet. “At least we're both first chairs, not second, though, yeah?”

He shouldn't have been upset, because these were some of the best performers in the entire country, but Changbin was seething. Fists clenched, teeth gritting, and he was sweating with how infuriated he was at being in the bottom for the first time. Ever. Seos were never anything but first, and this was going to eat at him from the inside out for a long time, especially since he was beaten out by Chan of all people.

“Hey, guys,” Seungmin leaned up against the wall, causing them both to break their gaze at the sheet of paper for a moment. “Congratulations on getting first chairs during your first contract year. Not many people get that.”

Changbin didn't care if “many people” got first chair or not, he was still fixated on the fact that he got beaten out by Chan. He wanted the assistant principal seat, but wasn’t even remotely close to it. So, he determined he’d have to work harder, to set his eyes on the principal seat when placements opened. This step backwards could cost him that opportunity when it came up in the spring, and he hated it.

Chan elbowed Changbin in the side, causing the brunette to snap back to reality.

“What?” The younger man bit back, viscerally reacting as his eyes widened and he bared his teeth. He wanted so desperately to throw Chan up against the wall and yell at him for distracting him right before his placement exam, when he knew he should have just stayed back and practiced. Chan broke his routine and all Changbin could think about during the exam was how angry he was at his former best friend.

“Chill out,” Chan sighed, eyes widening for a brief moment in shock. “Seungmin just asked if the two of us had any plans after practice.”

Seungmin shook his head. “It's cool if you do,” he smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension blooming around them, “a bunch of us, including most of the newbies, are all going out to Vivace. It’s that little bar down the street. Could be a good chance for everyone to get to know each other a bit better. Seems like you two have a head start on that, but now it's time for us to get to know you.”

His voice was sickeningly optimistic. Changbin gritted his teeth together under pursed lips and was about to decline, until Chan spoke up for both of them. “Yeah,” he said in a fake pleasant voice, “Changbin and I are down for that.”

“Don't speak for me,” Changbin said through his teeth, but Chan turned to look at him and frowned.

“Team morale. Be a good player, dude.”

Brooding. Failure. Fucking failure.

Changbin never was one to brood, but he was never one to fail, either. Today was a day of firsts, none of them good. He frowned as he leaned over his glass of warmed cognac, staring down into it in disgust at his reflection. The entire group was bonding with each other, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, and he was being the awkward loner in the corner again, silent and reserved.

“That didn't seriously happen,” a young man with short platinum blonde hair drunkenly giggled. Felix, probably. That's the name that Changbin thought he heard him mention when they all introduced themselves. He was the new French horn player. “Hyunjin, dude, you've gotta stop it with picking up random people in clubs.”

“It's Cap Hill, baby,” the man with long, black hair half-heartedly whined, martini against his lips. Hyunjin. Second chair cellist. “Sometimes you see someone hot, and you just gotta take them home, y’know? Of course you don’t, you’re too prudish to get fucking laid.”

A laugh bubbled up from the group, but both Chan and Changbin were staying relatively quiet. “Hey,” Chan said in a low voice, leaning against the table that Changbin was resting his elbows on. “You should come participate with everyone.”

“Why?” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Nobody here really cares about each other. It's all polite bullshit anyways.”

“Seriously, would you just fucking stop with this mopey shit, dude?” Chan tried to keep his voice down, setting his pint of stout on the table. “Come on, you're not a kid anymore.”

Changbin tilted his head back and sighed. “I never lose, man,” he brought his head back upright, staring down Chan as the alcohol loosened his lips. “You know I've never come in second, much less last, for anything. Let me just be down for once.”

As Chan opened his mouth to retort, another short, young man came up to the table. Jisung, the lead second chair violinist slammed his lager on the table with a wide grin. “What’s up, newbies? We're doing shots. Team bonding, yeah?”

Changbin's lip curled up in disgust, already annoyed by how chipper the other man was. “I don't do shots,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung dismissively waved his hand in the air and scoffed. “We get it, you’re pretentious and better than us or whatever. You're doing a shot with us anyways, a'ight? If you're drinking, it ain't optional.”

Seungmin, Felix, and a quiet brunette carried a few small glasses of amber liquid, setting the tiny shot glasses down on the table. “I don't know why you recommended Fireball for this, dude,” Hyunjin grumbled as he shook his head, taking a shot glass from the table and stepping right behind Jisung.

“It's good!” The smaller black-haired man shouted with a wide smile. “I've met nobody that doesn't like this stuff.”

“I hate it,” Changbin grumbled in protest, vaguely recalling memories of getting hammered on the foul liquid during a house party his sophomore year of college. A layer of regret gripped at his ribcage, thinking of the way Wooyoung’s boozy breath lingered on his lips as they made out on the patio of some stranger’s house. The regret clawed at him while he recalled how he looked up at the stars and wished that it was Chan there instead of Wooyoung. “I hate it a lot,” he repeated, unsure if he was still talking about the liquor or if he was talking about the memory creeping into his head.

His quip earned him a finger in the face from the loud young man, pulling him from his lamenting. “Not tonight, you don't. You can hate it after our fifth shot of it. Hate it tomorrow morning. Yeah?”

Everyone grabbed a shot glass, several reaching out in reluctance, and Seungmin puffed his chest out. “Alright,” he proudly said with a triumphant grin, holding his glass in the air, “we're gonna have a great year. Newbies and violists may be outcasts, but we're all a family. Yeah?”

The group let out an affirmative, albeit jumbled, noise.

“On three,” Jisung said with a smirk, then counted to three. All of the men lifted their glasses to their lips and chugged down the cloyingly sweet and uncomfortably spicy cinnamon-flavoured liquor.

“Oh, that's horrid,” Changbin shuddered, nearly dropping the shot glass as he recoiled. Chan nodded his head as he hissed, while Seungmin and Felix scrunched their faces in discomfort.

“You're disgusting, Ji. Let's get more!” The brunette from earlier perked up, the first time Changbin caught him speaking during the gathering. “It's not a good night unless someone pukes before we leave, yeah?”

Jisung slapped his hand on the table and collected the empty glasses from everyone. “Hell yeah, Jeongin, that's my dude!”

It wasn’t until the cool, late summer breeze hit Changbin as he stumbled outside that he realized that that fifth shot of Fireball that Jisung convinced everyone to take was, in fact, not a good idea. He groaned to himself as the cool air gradually revitalized him. “That shit was horrible.”

“Yeah,” Chan's aching voice slurred up from behind him. “You gonna be good getting home, Bin?”

Changbin wouldn't have responded if he was sober. He would have, and should have, just walked away, waved Chan off with an insincerely polite farewell, but the alcohol gave him a slight boost of confidence. He shrugged and sighed. “Probably. I live just down the street, uh,” he brought one hand to his temple as he blinked, eyeing his surroundings, eventually slinging his right arm up and pointed lazily towards the right, “that way. Somewhere.”

“You've never been a good drunk, have you?” Chan sighed, walking up to Changbin and interlocking his arm with the younger man’s, gently pulling him towards the direction he pointed in.

The brunette shook his head a few times and whined. “What're you doing?”

“Making sure you get home in one piece.”

“You dunno where I live, man.”

Chan tugged Changbin’s arm a bit and sighed. “You said this way, so I'm making sure you go that way. Besides, I live over here, too. It's on the way.”

“The Bushnell Apartments.”

The blonde stopped in his tracks and stared down at his drunken compatriot in shock. “How'd you know?”

“What?” The younger man lazily lifted his head up and knitted his brows together in confusion.

“That's where I live, dude.”

“No,” Changbin scoffed, “you big dummy, that's where I live.”

“Wait a minute,” Chan chuckled inwardly, “you live in the same complex as me?”

“Sounds like it, yeah,” Changbin nodded once, bringing his free arm up to rub the back of his neck, “third floor, room 325.”

“Holy shit. I'm in 324. I wondered who was playing music a few weeks ago when I was moving my stuff in.”

Changbin laughed nervously as the realization that Chan lived so close to him, not only in the same apartment complex, but right next door to him, slapped him in the face. “Fate's a real bastard, innit?”

“What?”

As much as Changbin wanted to say something, a look of discomfort quickly washed over his face. “Oh shit,” came out instead of the quip he was planning on, and he quickly, awkwardly dashed to the curb of the sidewalk, violently emptying the contents of his stomach all over the pavement instead.

A drunken laugh came up from behind him as Chan cackled maniacally. “I knew you were a lightweight.”

The next morning, Changbin woke up and even the most ambient of sounds were painfully louder, every light was uncomfortably brighter. He let out a weak whimper, and curled into himself as the world spun around him. “Goddammit,” he grumbled. “Fuck Jisung and fuck last night. I'm never drinking again.”

As if fate was teasing him, taunting him with how unfair it truly was, there was a knock against the door, the faint rapping pulling him out of his daze. He sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back, coming to terms with the fact that he was going to have to get up in a moment. “Be there in a sec,” he attempted to shout in the most decent, cognizant way possible.

It took Changbin a few moments to reorient himself as the walls spun around him. He stumbled his way through his bedroom, out to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole. Changbin fumbled with his deadbolt for a moment, scolding himself as he realized he forgot to do the chain-link before he passed out at some point earlier that morning. He pulled the door open, instantly regretting leaving his bed as he saw the man at his door.

“Chan?” He rubbed his eyes and grumbled. “How'd you find out where I live?”

“You told me last night, dude.” The taller man offered a plastic bag around his finger, almost as if it were some sort of physical apology. “Figured you could use some of this, especially since you don't remember all of last night, do you?”

Changbin stepped back, opening his door wide. There was no way he had the energy to yell at Chan, not when the man had brought him food as a peace offering. “I'm still upset with you, you know.”

“You told me last night,” Chan shook his head, tutting in feigned irritation as he took a couple of steps into Changbin’s apartment. “Several times, actually.”

The two of them sat on the couch in awkward silence as they ate their lukewarm, greasy diner takeout. Changbin curled up into a ball, clutching his sports drink to his chest as he rolled his face into the couch cushion. “God, I feel like shit,” he whined. “How are you so okay after all of that? You ended up drinking more than me.”

Chan chuckled. “I was part of a frat, dude,” he took a sip of water from his glass, then set it back down on the table. “Beer was an acceptable substitute for water in Sig Ep. Practically its own food group. Ah,” he stuck a finger in the air and his face turned stoic, “unofficially, of course.”

In all honesty, Changbin never realized that Chan had become such a different person after he went to university. He was still caring and kind, but to picture him as a typical frat boy was jarring. “You still got honours and valedictorian after all that shit?”

“Yep,” the older man clasped his hands together, bringing them behind his head as he leaned back into the couch. “Don't know how I did it, though. Talent probably got me far enough.”

“You were always really good at playing the viola, dude.” The compliment was sincere, Changbin rolling his eyes up to catch the profile of his best friend, staring longer than he should’ve.

Chan turned slightly, sucking in some air through his teeth as he looked at Changbin. “Never as good as you.” His voice was low, like there was something hidden deep under his words.

The two of them were quiet again. Changbin couldn’t help but ruminate on Chan’s words, memories of their constant rivalries and the night of their drunken kiss violently replaying over and over in his head. Chan always wanted to beat Changbin out on one thing, and Changbin was afraid it would cause Chan to look down on him as somehow lesser than.

Oh.

A sour, queasy feeling rolled up the back of Changbin’s neck as he realized he had probably treated Chan poorly in everything they competed for when he beat him out. How could he have treated his childhood friend so terribly for something so petty and trivial? Changbin had no other friends, not since he and Wooyoung split up, and the loneliness he felt bubbled up in his chest, commingling with how horrible he felt for the way he had treated Chan after all this time.

He should have apologized, too.

“Hey, Bin,” Chan leaned further into the back of the couch, drawing his arm out against the frame and he stared down at his sickly junior. “If I had reached out to you and apologized, do you think you would’ve forgiven me? We said some horrible shit to each other and, honestly, I never thought we’d see each other again. I’m glad we got to see each other after all this time, but I can’t help but think we’d never talk to each other otherwise.”

Changbin couldn’t help but look away, staring off into the tiny chip on his wall next to his calendar. He chewed on his teeth, unable to resist thinking about all of the stupid, petulant rage he felt over their trivial fights. He brought his thumbnail to his teeth and anxiously nibbled at it, honestly unsure if he would’ve forgiven Chan if they didn’t end up in Seattle together after all this time. “I dunno,” he muttered, words coming out with a slight lisp against his nail. “I think you’re probably right. I mean, we hadn’t talked in four years, why start now? What’s the point of resurfacing old wounds just to tear into them?”

A heavy sigh came from Chan as he looked up towards the ceiling. “I guess you’re right. I figured you had everything going perfectly for you. You graduated with a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, were happily engaged, and had just accepted some prestigious job somewhere. You were succeeding and surpassing me in so many ways yet again, and I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—” Chan quickly cut himself off.

Changbin lifted one of his eyebrows at the sudden silence, turning to look at Chan in confusion. “The fact that you what?”

The blonde shook his head, quickly standing up and brushing his shirt off. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Wait,” Changbin reached out to grab Chan’s arm without thinking, loosely grasping at his thin wrist. “Chan, I know it’s been years, but you can tell me anything.”

“No,” Chan shook his head, refusing to look at Changbin. “I promise, it’s not that important right now.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin opening his mouth to protest, Chan spoke up again. “Look, eat the rest of your food and drink a lot of fluids. We can talk about this all later, I just,” Chan offered a quick smile over his shoulder before he tugged his wrist free of Changbin’s grasp and made his way towards the door, “I can’t talk about it right now. Sorry, man.”

Changbin cursed himself for drinking so much the night prior, his hangover preventing him from chasing after Chan. As much as he wanted to know what Chan was about to say, he figured he would just drop it for now, then press for more information later.

Chan’s ‘talk about all of this later’ turned into a lot longer than Changbin expected.

It should have been days, weeks at the most. However, the end of summer resigned itself to Seattle’s torrential autumn rains, the symphony’s first performance of the season came and went, they all worked through their planned Thanksgiving break to finish recording a score for a film with an unbelievably large budget. All of that came and went, and there was still no conversation broader than casual discussion between the two of them.

Every time they passed each other, Changbin’s eyes lingered on the blonde. What was Chan thinking? What was he going to say that caused the energy between them to shift so drastically?

There were polite conversations in passing between Chan and Changbin off and on. Occasionally, they would walk to the practice hall together, but it was by sheer accident, only because they had left their apartments at the same time. Every interaction between them seemed accidental, too pleasantly sterile for what had to have been harbouring beneath the surface.

Autumn bled into winter. Rain turned to sleet, which morphed into snow a few times during January and February. February blended into March. March blossomed into April. More performances, more anxiety, more productions, more nervousness, more expectations, more, more, more. More from the symphony, and less, less, less from Chan.

The sleepless nights brought on by extensive late-night practices were tolerable; tired mornings after these were easily remedied with a few cups of coffee. Conversely, the few times Changbin had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, he found himself tossing and turning, restlessly thinking about Chan, unable to sleep. His heart pounded with nervousness, Changbin swearing he could hear his heartbeat echoing against the beige drywall of his bedroom. He reached his fingertips up and brushed them against the wall behind him, where he assumed Chan was laying on the opposite side, peacefully slumbering away.

So close. So far away. Chan was always right there, but so far out of reach.

I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—

What exactly was Chan going to say on that day? Months had passed, but Changbin could still hear every syllable that came from Chan’s lips, the way that his tongue punctuated each hard consonant with a staccato against his teeth, haunting his dreams. He could picture the moment that Chan’s expression changed, shifted from ease to uncertainty, how his eyelashes twitched when his eyes went wide with fear.

Late one sleepless April night, Changbin had found himself staring upwards yet again, lost in the grooves and valleys of stucco against his ceiling. His nervousness of the upcoming principal seat exam weighed him down, forcing him to sink further and further into his mattress, heavy with doubt. Earlier that day, Chan stepped back, saying he wasn’t interested in fighting for the position, which Changbin read as neither truth nor fiction.

“I just want you to have the best chance possible,” Chan had told him with a seemingly fake smile. “You’re so incredibly talented, Bin. You’ve got the leadership skills, and I support you all the way.”

No. Something about that wasn’t right.

Changbin frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as he bit down on his lips. He tried to recall exactly what the expression was on Chan’s face while he said those words with a layer of insincerity. The insincerity was juxtaposed with honesty and pain, so many conflicting and contrasting things said without words.

Then, it hit him.

You’re so incredibly talented. It sounded so familiar, the layered pain and genuine jealousy.

Never as good as you.

It had been months since Chan told him that, when they were sitting on the couch nursing their hangovers at the beginning of the season. Months had passed, but the words were suddenly so crisp and clear, as if Changbin was right in that moment again.

It wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy.

In a near panic, Changbin reached out for his phone on his nightstand, bringing it up to his face. The bright light burned his retinas, but it didn’t matter. He started scrolling through Chan’s social media page, down countless months and years, endless photos that started with him in various spots in Seattle, then to his graduation, followed by various frat gatherings and university happenings.

It was like Changbin was travelling backwards in time, seeing several familiar names and faces pop up, partially reliving the moments he had spent over the years angrily scrolling through his timeline on the nights he where Wooyoung was sleeping soundly next to him. Names that caused Changbin’s stomach to tense with varying degrees of jealousy started popping up with each season he travelled through.

Senior year: Son Chaeyoung, five months.

Junior year: Minatozaki Sana, seven months.

Sophomore year: Im Naeyon, three months. Hirai Momo, two months.

Freshman year: Park Jihyo, two months. Yoo Jeongyeon, two months.

Changbin recalled all of the people — all of them women — that Chan had dated, how none of them really seemed like they were serious relationships, that they were maybe friends with benefits at most. The photos Chan had taken with them were all stiff and felt rushed, like he was putting on a show that he was happy with them, when he clearly wasn’t genuinely happy.

It wasn’t jealousy. Of course it wasn’t jealousy.

Chan was hiding something, and Changbin’s heart sunk into his stomach as he found himself staring at the ceiling yet again. All he could find himself thinking about now was a single word ruminating, burning into his head.

Why?

Changbin made sure to leave well in advance prior to the start of the day. He didn’t want to risk running into Chan, not when the principal seat exam was today. He had spent too much time ruminating and worrying over Chan and the what-ifs the night prior, his lack of sleep apparent as his limbs ached with fatigue.

The walk to the practice hall was uneventful; drizzle had languidly fallen from the sky, embedding itself into Changbin’s jacket, temporarily turning the crimson fabric just a few shades darker. After several months, Changbin had gotten used to the nonstop Seattle rain, varying from drizzle to torrential downpours with occasional reprieves of sunshine peppered in throughout the year.

In a way, it was oddly calming. The rain kept people from lingering in the streets too long to chatter, but there was also a stubborn resiliency as people just accepted the downpours. Umbrellas and ponchos were only seen with tourists, people that seemed afraid that the slightest bit of drizzle would cause them to melt. There was an influx of tourists in March, when the cheap cruises up along the coast to Alaska started. With the influx of tourists, there were more and more performances that were crammed into Changbin’s schedule.

Honestly, the transition from March to April seemed so minute, like the drizzle turning to heavy droplets of rain, the rainstorm he constantly found himself in. It was a beautiful time of year, and Changbin hadn’t ever truly appreciated the fact that there were so many varying shades of grey along the spectrum of white to black.

The transition from August to April seemed to be so subtle, too. Within a few months, the barista at the cafe got better with his name, eventually able to speak it with confidence at about February. Changbin assumed she was flirting with him a few times when she passed his cup to him with various doodles and scribbles on them, but he shrugged it off.

Today’s cup holding his shot in the dark had a heart next nestled up to his name. Perhaps it would bring good luck for the principal seat exam.

Practice was uneventful, since the entire group was only together for the first half of the day. As the group disbanded into its respective sections for individualized practice, nerves bubbled up in Changbin’s veins as he steeled himself in preparation for the principal seat exam. Seungmin had wished him the most polite “good luck, man,” he could muster, even though they were both competing against each other.

Changbin had been in the middle of practicing his solo piece when a familiar voice pulled him from his concentration.

“Fantasia Cromatica?” The voice was layered with nervousness and anticipation.

The brunette sighed, trying to bite back his irritation at the loss of his focus. “Yeah,” he turned his head over his shoulder, eyeing the man that approached him. “Surprised you recognized it, Chan.”

Chan’s hand twitched as he lifted it for a brief second, like he was about to reach out to Changbin. “I’ve eyed that piece several times,” he brought his hand up to the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling as he stood a respectable distance away from the brunette, “it’s intimidating, but it’s such a well-known viola solo. I guess I’m not surprised you picked something without accompaniment with how independent you are.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but Chan’s words struck a sour chord within Changbin. The younger man shook his head once, eyeing the floor before he turned to look at the blonde. “I’m trying to practice,” his voice came off harsher than he had meant it to. Chan’s expression fell from nervously optimistic to slightly hurt, and Changbin rolled his eyes with a huff as he tried to pedal backwards. “Look,” he started, making awkward eye contact with Chan for a brief moment, “after I’m done with all of this, can we talk? I’ve got some stuff on my mind I wanna discuss with you.”

Chan looked excited for a moment as he nodded rapidly. “Sure,” he bit back a smile, “yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Changbin half-smiled as he turned back to his sheet music.

“Good luck, Changbin,” Chan brought his hand up to the brunette’s shoulder, offering a quick, warm squeeze that didn’t last nearly long enough. The slight touch caused Changbin’s breath to hitch in his throat, all of the air around him turning cool as Chan left.

Somehow, the younger man felt revitalized with the well wishes of his friend still lingering on his shoulder and dancing in his ears.

“So,” Minho greeted Changbin with a warm smile as the brunette entered the room. “You’ve decided to audition for the principal viola seat. After the initial chair placements, I didn’t think you would try, in all honesty.” The auburn-haired man smiled, tipping his wire-rimmed frames down his nose slightly, red pen in his hand.

Shit. Nerves lit up all over Changbin as he started to doubt himself, like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I’m glad you did.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin’s nervousness, Minho offered kind words in his usual soft, gentle voice. “Listen, I should be clear about something. I specifically sought out both you and Chan, as well as a few others, for this year’s contract placements. I don’t think you recognized me during the interview process, and I’m surprised you didn’t notice after the season started.”

“What?” The brunette cocked his head to the side, eyelids squinting upward in confusion.

Minho set the clipboard down on his desk, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table. He interlaced his fingers together and rested his chin on the backs of his hands. “I used to live on the east coast. I was in New Jersey for a while until I moved to Seattle a couple of years ago for this job. You and Chan performed Lament at the state competition in New York a few years ago. I believe you were both juniors back then, correct?”

Changbin’s throat went dry as he recognized Minho from so long ago, feeling somewhat dumb for not realizing it sooner. All those years ago, he was sitting in between two other judges, wearing the same wire-rimmed glasses as he wore today. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “That’s right.”

A smile crept up Minho’s face. “You both earned a perfect score, which was a rarity in and of itself, but what really captured me was how well both of you worked, the way you both blended together so naturally, beaming with raw, unadulterated talent. Such balance can’t be taught, only naturally weaved together by fate.”

Uneasiness came over Changbin in waves, like he was about to be judged far more critically than he anticipated.

“Anyway,” Minho brought his hands to his desk and sat back a bit. “The details of it all aren’t important. Just know that I’m happy that you’re both here. I’ll admit, however, that I was disappointed when Chan told me that he wasn’t interested in auditioning for the principal seat.”

A jolt surged up against the length of Changbin’s spine. “What?” He pressed, taken aback, unsure if what he just heard was accurate. “Chan told you he wasn’t interested?”

Minho nodded once. “He told me that, if given the opportunity, you deserved it more than he did, that he believed you were more talented and had the right leadership skills for the position.”

Changbin knitted his brows together. Nervousness had been replaced with a rush of anger. He initially found it odd that Chan wasn’t going to audition for the seat placement, sure, but the fact that he deliberately told Minho that Changbin was more talented and deserved it? That they didn’t even get to have a fair chance of competition between the two of them?

He felt strangely hurt, like Chan had somehow betrayed him. All for what, a seat placement? Something so trivial, after all these years?

His eyes looked down at his viola, eyeing that familiar chip one more time. The familiar word that echoed against Changbin’s head the night prior was so loud yet again.

Why?

Chan was pacing in the hallway when Changbin emerged from Minho’s office. “Hey!” He perked up with a smile on his face. “How’d it go, dude?”

Changbin shook his head, unable to look at Chan. A scowl curled up his lips as he bared his teeth, briskly walking to where his viola’s case rested. Practice was supposed to be for another hour, but he couldn’t bear another minute of being under the same roof as Chan, in the same claustrophobic space as him, not when he was seething with anger.

“Changbin?” Chan’s voice was closer, but quieter than before. “Was it that bad?”

The brunette’s fingers trembled as he shakily rested his viola in its case, eyeing the chip one last time before he slammed his case shut. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the instrument lockers, deciding to leave his viola in the practice hall overnight. Chan trailed behind him, his voice growing more and more concerned as Changbin paced away.

“Dude,” Chan pressed, reaching out to grab Changbin’s wrist as he slammed his locker door shut. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“Why?” Changbin wanted to say so much more, but the single syllable was all he could muster.

Chan winced, shaking his head in confusion. “What are you talking—”

“Why didn’t you audition for the principal seat?” His voice was terse, yet was still draped in a layer of fragility. “No, why did you tell Minho you didn’t deserve it? We’re supposed to be rivals, right? Push each other and make ourselves better, like when we were kids. What the fuck happened?”

“Changbin,” the blonde’s composure dropped with his shoulders, a look of pity washing over his face. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I just… I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

“Tch, typical. You know, Chan,” the younger man scoffed, rolling his eyes before he stared down the blonde, “I don’t understand you. I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected, not by anyone, not by you. I deserved a fair shot at the principal seat placement, I deserved to compete against you, and you just insult me like I had no chance if you competed.”

Chan curled into himself slightly, hurt by Changbin’s words. “I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Changbin shook his head and spun on his heel, padding off towards the exit in anger.

After a moment, Chan heard the downpour come through the door as Changbin ran off. He rushed to his locker, grabbing his jacket and his umbrella. “Changbin, wait!”

Seattle rain was never forgiving, especially during spring. The precipitation clattered against the ground at near-torrential speeds, the heavy noise only amplified as it reverberated against the concrete and the walls of nearby buildings.

“Changbin, please,” Chan shouted as the younger man stormed out of the practice hall and into the downpour that enveloped Capitol Hill in a dark haze. He took a few long strides as he chased after the seething brunette.

Changbin spun on his heel, shouting at the top of his lungs as he stared down Chan with wild eyes, his voice barely carrying along the heavy pattering of rain against concrete. “I don’t understand why you keep hiding, Chan! Why did you turn me down all those years ago?”

Chan shook his head, avoiding eye contact as he motioned for Changbin to come back. “Come here, Changbin, get under my umbrella before you get sick.”

“No!” Changbin shrieked in anger, tears streaming down his face as all of the emotions he had bottled up over the years suddenly erupted all at once. “Do you not understand how much I’ve loved you all these years? Ever since we were kids?”

“Bin, please, I—” The blonde’s shoulders sunk down as he recoiled into himself, eyes darting around as he was frozen in place.

“Everything! Everything I did was because of you, Chan!” The words burned as they came up from Changbin’s chest, the black lily of nervousness entangling its petals in between the empty spaces of his ribcage. “I put myself through hell to distract me from you, to get all of these thoughts out of my head, to stop fucking thinking about you for once!”

Chan was quiet, lips parted as he stared at Changbin in disbelief, tears unknowingly spilling from his eyelids.

The brunette refused to relent, shouting over the Seattle rain. “You were the only person that believed in me. You pushed us to do that duet, even though I thought it was stupid. You’re the reason we got the perfect score. You keep saying that I’m so much more talented than you, that you’d never be as good at me, but you’ve always been the one that’s naturally better at all of this.”

A beat passed between them before Changbin let out an anguished, angry shout. He was so tired of all of the pain and anguish he had felt over the years, and letting it all finally explode after so long, like a rubber band wound up too tightly, felt unnaturally liberating. Regardless of how Chan felt about Changbin after all of these years, he could finally let go of his agony, which was equal parts terrifying and relieving.

“Why? Why the fuck did you never apologize to your best friend, Chan? I have been in absolute fucking misery since you and I kissed so long ago and I don’t think you understand how much I wanted you to be there. How you kept creeping into my thoughts, even after all of these years, all I could think about was you.”

The blonde advanced, his face pulled into a downward scowl as his footsteps were heavy against the slick concrete. “It’s because I didn’t want to admit something,” Chan spoke in as low of a voice as he could while he pulled Changbin to his chest. “When you kissed me all those years ago, I was terrified about all of the what-ifs that started rushing around in my head. Like, what if I ruin my friendship? What if you’re not actually into me? What happens when I’m not good enough for you? What if I was actually straight and I was going to cause you nothing but pain after all this time?”

“Chan, stop.” Changbin shook his head, bringing his damp hands to Chan’s clammy face, rubbing away the tears that started spilled over, down his chilled cheeks. “You’re always good enough for me. You’re the only one that’s good enough for me; the only one I ever wanted.”

“What?”

“Listen,” the brunette sighed heavily, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved Wooyoung, but, the thing is…”

Chan watched the expressions on Changbin’s face cross a spectrum from confusion, to anguish, to regret.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, as horrible as it sounds. Sure, we were drunk when we had that one kiss, but it was the best kiss of my life. Hell,” he hiccuped, trying to swallow back tears, “I thought I lost my chance with you forever after high school. So, I settled. Wooyoung was the only other friend I had, and he was interested in me. I took a shot with him and, yeah, we were fine, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. I was ready to settle for a life of mediocrity until he decided he didn’t want to come to Seattle with me. I was finally free of both of you when I got here. I could leave you both behind.”

Changbin brought his forehead down to Chan’s wet shoulder, the fabric squishing against his skin as he rolled around and sighed. “It’s horrible,” he dropped his hands and clutched at the lapels of the blonde’s jacket, pulling himself closer into the older man’s embrace. “I was so glad to be free of both Wooyoung and the ghost of you. So, when I saw you that day at the cafe, it was like all hell had broken loose; everything came rushing back and I was overwhelmed by the weight of my past. I was forced to reconcile with the one person I hurt the most, the one who hurt me the most, and the one I never thought I would be able to forgive.”

A soft chuckle echoed around Chan’s chest as he rested his cheekbone against Changbin’s sopping wet brown hair. “We can’t escape each other.”

“I guess not,” Changbin quietly relented, releasing Chan’s jacket from his grasp, his arms languidly falling to his side in exhaustion. He was tired of being angry for so long, for harbouring such a deep-seated resentment against his best friend, for being mad at himself for never forgiving Chan after all this time over something so minor. So fucking tired. “I’m sorry, Chan. For all of this shit.”

The tapping of Seattle rain against Chan’s umbrella seemed so muted as the men stood up against each other, lost in their little bubble as the world disappeared around them. Nothing else mattered but being warmed by each other. Chan dropped his hand from Changbin’s back for a moment, then brought his fingers up to the underside of Changbin’s chin.

“Changbin,” his voice was timid as he tilted the younger man’s chin upward, both of them making awkward eye contact for a moment. A few drops of rain fell from Changbin’s hair, mingling against the tears that were rolling down his face, the droplets joining to become something greater, a small river down the valley of his cheek. “Even if you don’t forgive me after all this time, I forgive you. We were both idiots back then. What matters is that we’re here now. We can leave everything behind and move forward — together.”

“Together.” Changbin repeated, his voice cracking in between the syllables. He hated feeling so weak, but he couldn’t help it. All of the emotions from the past few years coming up, burning in his chest as the realization that what he yearned for all this time settled. After all this time, he was finally where he felt comfortable, secure, happy, with no strings attached.

Chan.

His arms were warm, a shelter to protect him from the weakness he was feeling. The happiness in his eyes and the bright smile on his face was Changbin’s sunshine during the overcast, dreary Seattle days.

Chan was home. His home.

The pattering of rain against Chan’s umbrella was suddenly so quiet, a rush of warmth blossomed up from Changbin’s cheeks to the tips of his ears. The black lily of anxiety that rested in between the spaces of his ribcage blossomed from black, to crimson, to a vibrant pink. All of his feelings for Chan became crystal clear, and he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

There was nothing left to lose.

“I love you. Still, after all of this time. I love you so much, Chan.” The words left his lips before he crashed them against Chan’s, much less awkwardly than their kiss so many years ago. His hands reached up to Chan’s blonde locks with a sudden renewed, yearning energy, grasping at the strands and tugging at them as if he would sink into the ground if he let go.

Rain came pouring down all around them as Chan dropped his umbrella, bringing one of his hands down to the small of Changbin’s back, the other hand softly cupping the younger man’s face. “I love you too, Changbin,” he whispered breathlessly as he pulled back for just a split second. Chan brought the brunette closer into his grasp, droplets of rain falling between them, rolling down their faces and in between their lips.

Like Connecticut, Changbin was vivacissimo, as wild as the hustle and bustle of the east coast. Like Seattle, Chan was andante, languid and calming.

Chan was his home, where Changbin belonged all along.

[ambitionsource]

can we just talk about nigel... walk us through him please

i’m 2 months late to answering this, but yes. yes we can! i’ll try to give the same general portrait of him as i did in the past with like nate and stuff, hopefully it will be somewhat coherent bc i love him and he deserves to be appreciated and understood just as much as our other fave a class kiddos

so as we all know damn well at this point, nigel is an aspiring actor. he’s one of the few students in the a class who has a very core passion that he doesn’t waver from (like in the way maya, farkle, yindra, riley, etc. kind of just do lots of everything -- and eat up the opportunities in their wake LOL -- nigel is like zay in that they both have very clear areas of expertise that they dedicate most of their energy and passion to). and though he’s not as intense or vocal about it, acting is extremely important to nigel. actually, the whole process and experience of being an actor is, from the character work to the play reading and annotating to those moments of actual delivery. he’s an actor in his bones, equally as dedicated as maya or zay just significantly more outwardly laid back about it.

that being said, i feel like all you have to do to really get a sense of how deeply he cares about it is to... ask him about it. like if you get him talking about shakespeare, any of his plays, the kid who always seems so quiet and laid back will be talking a mile a minute and unpacking the nuances and brilliance of shakespeare’s works faster than you can keep up. he’s also like this -- tho not to the same degree as acting -- about classical music / jazz / a capella choirs / orchestra (since he plays the violin), local cafes + coffee, nostalgic story-driven cartoons like digimon that he watched on pbs when he was younger, and editorial cartoons. like he’s the friend that sends yindra and zay his favorite political cartoon from the new york times every sunday to their group chat (and after some time, jade gets these excerpts too). he’s also decently savvy about fashion, at least the lowkey hipster art deco pretentious chic type of fashion. i think he’s similar to asher, riley, and charlie in that he comes off a certain way and everyone assumes they know what he’s like bc he’s great a maintaining this calm persona, but those who really know him know that it’s all a charade and he’s extremely nerdy, excitable, enthusiastic, and impassioned, etc. if he’s comfortable with you, then you get the full nigel chey experience with all those quirks and eccentricities.

part of the reason nigel has the calm, unbothered persona, though, is mainly because of his family. he has a good relationship with his parents and his siblings, but he comes from a family where there’s a lot to juggle and so many things going at once that it behooves him and makes him feel better to be out of the way and not adding to anyone’s plate. as we mentioned on the income scale, nigel is one of the scholarship students at aaa, so much of his parents’ time is dedicated to making ends meet and looking out for all of the chey children. nigel has a few siblings, but the age gap for the most part isn’t that wide. he has an older sister who is one year ahead of him in school (but is not an artist, she’s studying to be a school counselor), a younger sister who is a freshman, a younger brother who is in middle school, and then the baby brother of the family who was unplanned and thus is quite a few years younger than the rest of them. so they’re a crowded, hectic little clan, and nigel feels like the best thing he can do is just stay out of the way as much as possible and be useful when he can. so he’s become very good at internalizing unpleasant emotions, letting things go, and not getting riled up (esp by provocation of younger siblings). in some ways, this has also made him a bit of a doormat, as we see in some scenes with yindra and zay where their personalities are just so much louder than his so he tends to default to them or try to keep the peace.

nigel also puts a lot of pressure on himself because of the money situation in their family as well as the unspoken expectations of his parents. both of them are supportive of him pursuing acting, and they always do their best to make it to at least one of his performances, but they’ve taken pains to make it understood that nigel is going to have to work his ass off simply because they don’t have the means or industry savvy to help give him a leg up (like half of his classmates do). like, they wholeheartedly supported his application to aaa -- especially his dad, who is a bit of a lit nerd himself and loves shakespeare / passed that on to him -- but they made it clear that if he couldn’t get a scholarship, it just wouldn’t be feasible. thankfully, that worked out for the best, but i think nigel lives very aware of that threat nipping at his heels at all times and that’s part of why he throws himself so deeply into the work and was basically oblivious to any other form of Teenagerdom (i.e., jade’s crush or his potential feelings for anyone) for most of his time at aaa.

there’s also a bit of an internal pressure in wanting desperately to make his family proud and feel secure about his future in such an unstable career. like his mom is an analytical mind, she was studying to be an engineer when she was in college but then she dropped out to help take care of nigel’s maternal grandparents and so she never got to realize that for herself and i think she has a lot of anxiety about nigel ending up in a similar situation where he isn’t as secure or happy as she wants him to be. but she doesn’t really like... understand in her head that thats where her hesitation is coming from + the fact that she just isnt an artist and doesnt really get why doing such a risky career would be worthwhile. she supports him, but doesn’t logically Get it. so i think nigel wants to be able to Prove to her he’s got it under control, that he’ll be okay, so that then they can just enjoy his passion as much as he does without worrying about him at the same time. he’s also the first son of the family, and so he has a sort of subconscious pressure as well from masculinity in terms of like coming out successful and able to help support his family, both his and the one he builds in the future with a partner. so big melting pot of anxieties and pressures going on in that beautiful nerdy head of his, but he doesn’t talk about it really even with people he trusts (like yindra and zay) nor do i think he truly understands himself that he’s carrying all that around. it will probably hit him eventually. guess we’ll find out someday!

(fun fact: nigel’s mom also does side work as a seamstress, so that’s part of why he has such a natural appreciation for that type of work. now who else do we know who is a masterful seamstress... hm... its on the tip of my tongue...)

all of that being said, at his core nigel truly is a very laidback guy. its somewhat a persona, but it also is true to his inner self. he’s passionate, but in a tempered and healthy way. i think that sometimes, despite how creative he is in many aspects, he struggles to think outside the box and off the beaten path because of how important measured success and competence is to him. so things like maya doing whatever the fuck she wants and yindra thinking about skipping college and just jumping into the industry don’t compute for him (the same way all of it doesn’t really click for his mom), and as we know, he sometimes becomes frozen in inaction because that feels safer or more logical. and he’s just never going to be the diva that zay or maya or farkle can be, and he’s content with that. if he’s going to make it, in his head, he’s going to achieve it through hard work, dedication, attention to craft, and being a decent person who people enjoy working with. and he also definitely understands the importance of knowing who to trust and having that tight inner circle, i.e., what he has with the true star squad of yindra and zay.

-- Maggie

[rglozwriter]

FNAF Swap AU: Mari!Mike Origins

Inspired by @official-michael-afton and @jaes-fnaftrash‘s fnaf roleswap au’s, I decided to write what was supposed to be a short story of about 1,000 words. Guys, I finished it at over 5,000 words! I haven’t written a story that long in forever. :)

So here’s a story about the origins of Marionette!Michael Afton, and Swap!Henry and Swap!William. Just a heads up because I know some people don’t like stories like this, Henry is the murderous asshole in this story, William is not. I know not everyone likes that, so if you don’t than please don’t read this story.

Henry throws his wrench on the worktable, his frustrations reaching a near breaking point. His newest creation is powered down on the table, the thrown wrench jostling it for only a second.

The creation, or what he calls the Marionette, can almost be confused for a human. Of course, most people would be put off by the purple skin tone and face paint, but Henry hopes that the Marionette’s kind and calm persona that he installs would squash people’s unease of it. Michael and Charlie think it’s good, and even William has already talked about bringing it into the diner.

But it’s not perfect. His creation is still missing something to make it truly human. It infuriates him to no end. It’s like the solution is right there but he cannot obtain it. He stalks out of the room, not wanting to even spare his failure another glance.

His home is empty once he comes up from the basement, and it takes him a few seconds to remember that Charlie went over to the Afton’s house down the street after finishing her homework. She has been spending less and less time at home after Sammy’s “mysterious accident” with one of William's inventions in the basement. Not that he can blame her.

He checks the time, six in the evening, at this time they should be done making dinner. He sighs and goes to grab his boots beside the front door. Hopefully, they won’t mind one more mouth to feed.

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

The rain comes down hard onto his car as Henry drives through the town. It’s a Saturday so of course, Charlie wanted to go back to the Aftons to play with Elizabeth. After driving her to the house due to the rain, he didn’t feel like driving back home. 

The talk with William last night is still running through his head. Remnant, the idea they discovered in college. The thing that gives humans life, almost like a soul. He feels like crying, the one thing to make his creations perfect and he cannot obtain it.

The rain starts to come down harder, and Henry curses. It’s already almost pitch black outside thanks to the storm, and it’s only three in the afternoon. It’s when he drives past Fredbear Diner that he spots a peculiar sight from the lights given by the windows. 

Standing outside in the alleyway is a boy wearing a purple shirt and a green bracelet. Michael Afton, William’s eldest son. Henry’s not sure how long he’s been in the pouring rain, but he’s already soaked. He’s pounding on the window of the diner, and Henry cannot tell if it’s tears or rain pouring down his face.

He pulls into the parking lot and just watches Michael. The boy screams out for someone to open the door and let him in. Probably a cruel prank then. That’s when the thought enters his head.

“You cannot create remnant, so why not take it?” It says.

And the thing is, he considers it. Most people would immediately drive away, or at the very least throw that thought away. But Henry, he’s desperate for his dream of a perfect creation, so he decides to entertain it.

Mike has the kind of personality that he wants the Marionette to have. He’s smart, bright, and thanks to the discipline from William he can be polite when he needs to be. Besides, William has two other children, so surely he wouldn’t mind losing one?

His mind made up, Henry leaves his car. Careful to not alert the boy, who’s now huddled under the window, his knees pulled to his chest as he sobs in his arms. Henry knows he doesn’t have much time before someone comes along so he snatches the boy’s arm and pulls Mike up to his feet before starting to drag him to his car.

It takes Mike a few seconds to process what is happening, but once he does he tries to pull out of the grip around his arm, even trying to use his other hand to pry out. All it does is cause Henry to grasp tighter.

They reach the car, and Henry flings open the passenger door before throwing Michael on the seat. He frantically looks around the interior, a look of recognition crosses his features. He’s been in his car before of course. Michael finally gets a good look at Henry’s face.

“Uncle Henry…?” He says, the confusion clear in his voice. Henry just closes the door before getting into the driver's seat.

“Put on your seatbelt.”

Mike listens…

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

Henry stares down at the dying boy. The blood pools from under him as the stab wound on his chest continues to gush the liquid all over the purple shirt, turning it into a sick sort of tie-dye. Michael’s eyes stare up at the ceiling in shock as blood continues to pool in his mouth, choking him. 

It was easy to convince Mike to come to his basement, with the promise of wanting to cheer the boy up by showing him the Marionette and then needing his help with his animatronic. Michael, who loves to watch and help his father with his work on the animatronics, was a little excited if still a little nervous. So with one hand on his back, Henry led the young boy down the steps to the basement. 

The thing about his basement is just how cut off from the rest of the world it can feel. There’s no other entrance to get into the basement and couple that with no windows and only one light source and it can create quite a chilling atmosphere. So chilling that Elizabeth and Chris refuse to step foot in the basement, and even Charlie refuses to come down without Henry.

Michael’s choking and gasping is the only sound in the basement. Well, that and the Marionette’s mechanical clicking and whirring. He turned the animatronic on to keep Michael distracted, and it worked. The poor boy didn’t see the knife coming.

Maybe that’s why when the phone rings in the kitchen, Henry jumps. He only spares the other two occupants of the room a glance before rushing up the stairs to answer the phone.

(If he stayed for a bit longer, Henry would’ve noticed the way the Marionette’s gaze turned to Michael, a look of distress and pity on its face.)

Henry’s not surprised to find the call to be from a frantic William, who went to go pick his son up from their diner, only to find his eldest gone.

“Will you help me look for him?” He says. Henry agrees, grabbing his coat from the rack beside the front door and hopping into his car to head down to the Afton house.

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

The Marionette gets down from the table, it’s eyes never leaving the child. Marionette was programmed with code to help calm distressed children from injuries like cuts and bruises. But even with its limited knowledge of human injuries, it could tell that this was no simple cut.

This child, a small boy of an apparent ten years of age, is too injured for a few soothing words to fix. He needs a doctor, but there’s no employees or the owners for the animatronic to get. So the Marionette can only do one thing it’s programmed to do, it’ll comfort the boy.

It walks up to the child, stepping into the puddle of blood. The boy is no longer making any noise, yet it can tell from the small twitches that he’s still alive. It reaches down to him and slowly pulls him into its arms. Mindful of the painful groans and whimpers coming from him.

It holds the child closely, combing his hair and whispering soothing words that his code can give. It feels the boy slacken in its embrace, the painful whimpers are no longer being uttered. A small smile graces the Marionette’s face. It’s a relief to have calmed the child down enough to have him sleeping.

The Marionette was not programmed with the knowledge of death.

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

After searching around for Michael, Officer Clay was contacted. A search team was sent to check the areas around Fredbear Diner, and even the woods behind the diner. Five o’clock arrives and William’s son is still not found.

By the time Henry gets back to his home, William was barely just holding it together. Henry could understand, he felt the same way with Sammy and Mary’s deaths.

He walks down to the basement but pauses on the steps. There’s a large blood puddle on the floor where Michael’s body is supposed to be, but his body isn’t there. Not only that, but bloody shoe prints are leading away from the puddle.

Henry makes it the rest of the down to find a peculiar but welcome sight. There sits his animatronic, his creation, holding Michael’s dead body in its arms. The Marionette is turned off, hopefully from taking Michael’s remnant and not from overheating.

It took a few times to tug the body from the Marionette’s grasp, even powered off the creation is strong. He curses when he spots some blood staining the animatronic’s outfit. That’s going to be a pain to remove. 

But that’s a task for later. Right now, he needs to figure out where to hide Michael’s body. Henry considers burying his body. But if the police find it they’ll trace the crime back to him. A glance around the basement gives him an idea, the freezer. He can just hide the body until the whole search calms down.

Wrapping Michael’s body up in a blue tarp, He dumps the body in the freezer, the crunch of the body against the frost at the inner walls. He stares down at the body, feeling a twinge of regret for the boy he not so long ago considered a nephew. 

He closes the freezer.

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

It took a month for Henry to finally get rid of Michael’s body. William has been wringing himself ragged trying to find his son, and the kids have been more subdued in their energy. Charlie goes over to the Afton house every day, to try and cheer up her friends. 

The police were the worst though. They hung around almost every corner and shadow, making it impossible for Henry to just dump the body in some dumpster and go. 

He understands why they are working so hard, Michael might be the first case of a kidnapped child from Hurricane that turns out to be serious and not just a kid wandering off. Coupled that with the fact that Officer Clay is a close family friend to the Emilys and Aftons, so he’s probably taking this as badly as William is. Henry understands it, that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

And if that wasn’t enough, turns out he killed Michael for nothing. Michael didn’t possess the Marionette. Henry cleaned the blood off the animatronic and gave a week of waiting for any sign of improvement before setting the attraction open in the diner. 

Much to Henry’s disappointment not only did the Marionette not improve in acting human, it got worse. Now, it would glitch and stutter through the coded phrases at random intervals. And according to some of the patrons, they would hear the animatronic say a strange phrase that Henry knows he didn’t program into the Marionette.

“Save Him.”

(You can’t.)

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

The windshield wipers scrape against the window at the fastest setting Henry’s car has. It’s nine at night, and the cops have finally calmed down enough that Henry feels it’s safe enough to get rid of Michael’s body.

Thinking about the said body, his eyes travel to the rearview mirror, to the thing lying across the backseat. It was a pain digging Michael out of the freezer, the tarp refused to separate from the freezer’s insides, the frost clung to the tarp like weld bond adhesive, Henry gave up and just grabbed Michael and left.

Michael’s body shakes with the car, and once again Henry wishes he fought the tarp just so he doesn’t have to see the body every time he checks behind him. At least Michael’s head is turned towards the backseat, Henry’s not sure he could drive with the feeling of the cold dead gaze on him.

Right now, he’s driving to the diner. The alleyway has the dumpster that he needs to hide the body. Hopefully, the dumpster isn’t too full, or else he has no other thing to do but dig through the trash, and the last thing Henry wants to do is dig through trash in a severe rainstorm.

He drives into the alleyway, careful to keep his car lights low. It didn’t take him long to park the car and drag Michael out from the backseats. Now with the body in his arms, he makes his way to the dumpster, only to have his hopes dashed.

Not only is the dumpster full, but it’s also absolutely overflowing! With trash bags even in a pile around the dumpster. There’s no way Henry can hide his body in there. By the time he digs out a spot for Michael’s body, he will almost certainly get caught.

But Henry can’t go back to his home with the body! Sooner or later, the body would be found if he keeps it at home. And Henry’s not sure what he’s most afraid of if that happens, the police or William.

A light comes on inside the diner, and Henry, panicking, dumps Michael next to the brick wall that makes up the diner. He hurries to his car and speeds out of the alleyway.

An employee named Caleb is the one who discovers the young boy’s body. When questioned by the police if he saw who dumped the poor child’s body in the alleyway, all he could say was he saw a red car speeding off out of the alleyway, he was more concerned about the corpse he found. Caleb would quit his job three days later, citing trauma.

A father is contacted that night to receive the terrible news that he suspected, but hoped to not have.

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

William stares down at the freshly dug grave, the setting sun painting it a warm glow. It’s been a few days since the funeral, and he finds himself in a worse daze than when Michael went missing. At least when his son was missing there was still hope that he would be found alive.

But no, that was never going to happen. He overheard the cops gossiping, he knows how whoever killed his son kept his body in a freezer. He clenches his shaking hands as he’s reminded of it, how some bastard out there was probably looking him in the face and giving him some false sympathies like a snake in the grass.

William eyes the tombstone in front of him once more. 

Michael James Afton

His eyes travel to the tombstone next to his son, his wife’s name on it. He finds himself thankful that he was able to at the very least bury them together. 

He brushes his fingers over his wife’s grave, tracing her name. It takes William a couple of seconds to realize that he’s fallen to his knees in the dirt, but at the moment he doesn’t care.

A feeling started to blossom inside his chest, replacing the cold emptiness that was there before. It gnaws at him, intensifying the anger that already resided in him. William grabs fistfuls of his jeans, scrunching them up and grits his teeth as he identifies the emotion spilling over into his heart.

Intense revenge.

He gets back up onto his feet, ignoring the dirt on his jeans. He spares Michael’s grave one more glance before starting the trek back to his car. He has a lot of planning to do. 

Making sure his son’s murderer gets dragged off to hell will be time-consuming.

[chlcrine]

( courtney eaton / demi girl ) LUNDY VICENTE is 22 years old and is a JUNIOR at thales university. SHE is majoring in WOMEN’S STUDIES and is known for being THE JAILBIRD as HER can be RESILIENT and SCHEMING as well as HOTHEADED and AGGRESSIVE. every time i see HER, SHE reminds me of THE DEEP END OF A SWIMMING POOL, TITLEFIGHT LYRICS, SLEEPING ON A FULL SIZED MATTRESS. ( amanda / 23 / she/her / mst )

hey guys its amanda the raven mun. like this to validate me thanks *winks*

NAME:  lundy b vicente AGE:  22 BIRTH DATE:  november 19th 1998 ZODIAC:  sagittarius sun, leo moon SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  bisexual  /  biromantic FINANCIAL CLASS:  lower HOMETOWN:  kissimmee, florida EDUCATION LEVEL:  junior studying women’s studies FACE CLAIM:  courtney eaton ADDICTION(S):  nicotine DRUG USE:  frequent ALCOHOL USE:  frequent POSITIVE TRAITS:  self-reliant, confident, risk-taking NEGATIVE TRAITS:  vulgar, violent, selfish

BACKGROUND  -  triggers: prostitution, child neglect, incarceration

as she would put it, lundy was born to a crackwhore mom and never knew her dad. the earliest years of her life were certainly happy, allbeit delusionally so. by the age of five the girl had the local streets memorized, running rampant with her friends through parking lots and swimming in motel pools. while her mother used alternative means to earn money and occupied their single bedroom with the company many suitors, young lundy became independent, and aware of the harsh realities of the real world on her own.

before long, cps caught word of the less than ideal living conditions that the child was living in, and got involved. ultimately she ended up in the foster system after a brutal custody battle between her mother and the state.

though she lived in a variety of homes around the state of florida, some good, some not so good, lundy ended up stuck in a home for troubled girls. the system threatened to chew her up and spit her back out, but self-reliance had made her testy around authority figures.

her thirteenth birthday was spent during the first of many bouts in juveinial detention, but she took to the facility well. like a school she reined over, lundy actually found herself getting into trouble just so she could return. the highlights of her teen years mostly consisted of fighting, fucking, and making the other kids in juvy all around just as miserable as she was.

once she turned eighteen, lundy was contacted by her father’s family. he lived in virginia, and offered her a place to stay as she tried to “get back on her feet”, seeing how he himself had done some time and knew the feeling. it didn’t take long for lundy to decide that family life wasn’t for her, so she began applying to colleges in hopes to live on campus.

PERSONALITY  -  triggers: violence

it should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with lundy that she was kicked out of her most recent housing situation over the summer. the police were called after a neighbor reported a domestic disturbance, only to find that lundy had beaten one of her roommates bloody and blacked out. though she claims she had a reason  ---  he was creepy!  the feds didn’t give much of a shit about that, and there is a pending court case. she is also living with her dad again, working to repay him for her bail fund, and waiting to be contacted further. she most certainly should NOT be indulding in partying, or any reckless sort of behavior, but that goes against her very identity.

when you actually have lundy on your side, she’s a force to be reckoned with. ride or die, type of person, but she struggles to find people who actually wish to become close enough to her for that. at this point, it doesn’t bother her that others find her offputing. her sense of humor is an acquired taste, and she’ll certainly say what’s on her mind, but perhaps that may seem refreshing? to some people? maybe?

lundy is rather loud, just when she speaks, and LOVES digging into other people’s business. she is incredibly impulsive and will always support bad decisions. she’s deliberate, though never planned, and tactless. the type to hurt your feelings on accident AND on purpose, depending on the day. in general, she is silly. a maniac really

RANDOM SHIT

she plays bass. picked it up whens he moved to virginia. she’s just a rock chick!

proud marxist but i don’t recommend bring it up to her. she’s been kicked out of many classes due to this

as far as gender goes, lundy has always felt “female enough” but certainly has a more adrogynous energy about her. wears a lot of baggy clothes and backwards hats. has been called a lesbian since before she can remember, but kind of took on that persona and made her something she’s proud of

sleeps most comfortably in small spaces. prefers her full sized mattress to anything bigger

constantly makes the jacking off motion when other people are talking

has this love you tattoo on her hairline a la her at the time girlfriend and this tattoo on her hand

loves a good video game session (aka not talking to anyone for 72 hours unless it’s through playstation)

loves a good handwritten letter, will even get romantic about it sometimes

likes fucking menthol cigarettes

always leaving the house with her hair wet like girl why???????? also loves to swim

had a gay boyfriend once. the only boyfriend she ever had. it lasted like a week asdfsdf

based on:  young aleida ( oitnb ), moonee ( the florida project ), spinelli ( recess ), jayden ( short term 12 ), donna ( that 70s show )

WANTED CONNECTIONS

a band?????? this is so so so up for whatever ideas anyone else has but she’s definitely always wanted to be in a band and has the charisma for it. need anyone else who plays an instrument other than bass or sings

half siblings???????? they would have to be at least half white, because her dad is white.

exes ?? (f/nb) of literally any sort. she was probably a very fleetingly romantic gf. she’d be like here is a love note i made u but also we’re breaking up tomorrow. 

someone she’s beat up?????????

honestly i can’t think of anything all that specific anymore my brain always runs out of juice at the fucking end of writing intros like this. i really just want literally any connection dude hit that mf LIKE button