#my thought process was ‘if I try to draw the guitar it’ll go from a 20m sketch to a 50min one’

[macaronirats]

Quick prorev Frank sketch because uhh. You know why

[bts-weverse-trans]

The Life of BTS Writes a Story Review of BE 2020.11.30

BTS released its new album, BE, on November 20 after RM announced the band’s plan to produce the record on BANGTANTV’s Log (ON) on April 17. The group was working on the album even as “Dynamite”, the single they dropped on August 21, was topping the Billboard Hot 100. This order of events is given a fresh new meaning when “Dynamite” closes BE as opposed to standing alone as a single. While the group was busy sending messages of hope by reminding us of the past where heading out happily after a cup of milk was possible and giving us a glimpse of the future that will eventually come, they were recording the emotional ride they have been on while being off stage via different tracks on BE. Such changes in emotions can be seen through different portrayals of Jung Kook’s room—the way it looks during the first verse of both “Dynamite” and “Life Goes On,” the title track of the new album. Jung Kook is captured looking chipper as he ties his shoes getting ready to go out and dances in his sunshine-filled room in the music video of “Dynamite”, but in the latter’s video, Jung Kook stares blankly out the window. BE tells the story of how Jung Kook and other members navigated their lives, which includes their time singing “Dynamite,” during the pandemic by stepping out of rooms that are distinctively less colorful than the scenes in the music video of “Dynamite”.

The seven tracks, not including “Dynamite”, embody BTS’ emotional shifts and draw what looks a lot like a V curve, with “Skit” separating each section of three songs. The album opens with “Life Goes On” where BTS asks, “there’s no end in sight / is there a way out?” to live through a reality devoid of hope and arrives at “Stay” where the group expresses their intense longing for a reunion with the fans by saying, “Thinking of you now / No matter where you are / That’s not important.” And during this journey, BTS responds to the physical limitations imposed on their daily lives by saying “They took away this whole year” while also trying to put a positive spin on it by singing, “Thoughts can change by thinking,” in “Fly to My Room”. What follows is “Blue & Grey”, where they reveal inner feelings of depression and anxiety with the line, “Still don’t know this sharp blue / Hope it’s not covered over I’ll find the exit.” “Skit” then offers a shift in direction, and the next song, “Telepathy” reveals their eagerness to meet people again, highlighted by the lyrics, “Every day’s the same and I’m happiest when I meet you.” BTS also takes a moment to let out their complex thoughts on work to reach “Stay” ultimately. It is only at the end of this process that the optimism in “Dynamite”, which feels like a conviction of hope in a time of pandemic, appears in full.

“Life Goes On” allows those who don’t know whether they should hold on to hope or give up on hope to feel what it is like to go with the flow when you don’t know what to feel. Those who want to find a reason to be positive in life affected by the pandemic can find solace in “Fly to My Room.” But it is when you listen to the album as a whole that you can get healing from the pain the pandemic has inflicted on us. The soothing ambiance offered by “Life Goes on” transitions into heavy, slow, and dark tunes in “Blue & Grey,” which is followed by faster rhythm and airy sounds in “Telepathy” and “Stay.” Then the album finally culminates in “Dynamite” where the bright sunshine lifts you up. The record in its entirety offers the chance to experience at least indirectly the emotional ride taken by global superstars BTS themselves. “Dis-ease” is the classic example of the storytelling style BTS chose for the album; the moment they let out their angst and fully devote themselves to work is when the song reaches its climax. When BTS sings, “Get up one more time / It’s morning again we gotta go out / Let’s go one more night,” towards the end of the song, the arrangement drives up the song’s tension for the peak moment, “Everyday I console myself / We’re all the same people ain’t so special / Ay man keep one, two step keep calm and let’s heal up” which tops the song off like fireworks. This ironic way of storytelling mirrors BTS’ life at the moment. There are a lot of thoughts about work and life on their mind, but they try their best to work through them. And just as they do this, their energy transforms into a musical blast.

With “On,” the single track on their previous album “Map of the Soul : 7,” BTS says “Where my pain lies / Let me take a breath.” The album covers how BTS has traveled from the past to where they stand now, and “ON” tells a story of the members having to live with the “shadow” that comes with enormous fame as discussed in “Interlude : Shadow” on the very same album. With BE, BTS finally tells the story of their lives that are still unfolding. It’s not clear whether their questions about work asked in “Dis-ease” now found answers. It’s not known how long this will last, just like no one knows when this pandemic will finally run its course. We have no way of knowing if they are still in the mood expressed in “Blue & Grey” or they’re feeling the positivity of “Fly to My Room.” One thing that is clear is that while they battle work as one would with “Dis-ease,” they still wrote songs like “Telepathy” and “Stay” to send their messages to the fans, and kept busy getting ready to perform “Dynamite” on numerous stages. BE is the album that ties together all of their real-life events, both on and off stage, as one narrative. They started as an idol group and now their lives are intertwined inseparable from their music, their very existence becoming the stories they tell.

The way BE sets up different songs is directly linked to the musical changes BTS has undergone, and thus, are evident in the album. As the members’ stories take center stage, the arrangement focuses on getting their lines and melodies across and adjusts itself flexibly to each member’s part without following a certain trend or form. The arrangement filled with sounds of guitars, synthesizers, bass, drums, and pianos or sounds similar to real instruments is fitting to songs like “Fly to My Room” and “Blue & Grey”, in which auditory shifts accompany each member’s part. The smaller number of sounds used in

BE

compared to previous albums further emphasizes vocals, such as by accentuating the sound of Jung Kook inhaling in the beginning of “Life Goes On.” If J-Hope’s part in “Fly to My Room” reminds you of a gospel song, it’s not just because the synthesizer highlighted the gospel-like vibes but also because j-Hope’s voice that faithfully delivers his emotions as if giving witness to an epiphany with the line, “Thoughts can change by thinking.” Just like the auditory shift that takes place with SUGA’s rap part in “Blue & Grey” where the drums begin to layer, the arrangement of BE evolves constantly in line with each member’s part.

BE also takes on new challenges in format.. The chorus in “Blue & Grey” has such long melodies that it has no clear ending, and it fades out for the post-chorus that triggers an image of a lonely winter night with gloomy vocals. The post-chorus might seem like an abrupt shift but many devices contribute to giving this song the bleak wintery night vibe: RM’s somewhat distant rapping delivered through left and right on stereo that echoes through the room as well as the vocal recording that applied different echoes depending on lyrics and the solemn sounding cello. “Life Goes On” progresses in a similar fashion, starting with percussions ringing right next to your ears that create multi-layered sounds and taking you to an imagined space by blending the chorus and synthesizer. The story they tell resembles confessions about emotional states or specific circumstances, and the melodies unfold and rap flows in new ways as the story progresses While there are a lot of shifts, there is consistency in that sounds build the same sense of space. “Stay,” while being an EDM piece, ends on a rather blue note after phasing out beats that earlier set the stage for the dancefloor stomper. It makes sense given that the song is Jung Kook’s imagination of performing in front of the fans; Festivities in the song are interrupted by the fading out of vocals and overall sound layers. “Telepathy” offers a catchy hook in a song filled with bouncy spirit, just like “Dynamite” does. But the difference lies in that “Dynamite” brings out the explosive energy through repetition of melodies and variation of rhythms and that “Telepathy” phases itself out by reducing the number of sounds. “Fly to My Room” is about coming to terms with life in the pandemic, but the acknowledgment doesn’t necessarily make such a life enjoyable. Adding vibrant melodies isn’t a solution to challenges that accompany work, which are conveyed in “Dis-ease.” Such are the mixed feelings we experience in life—in which we have no control over a break or our approach—that are clearly expressed in the album by highlighting each member’s part and various shifts. Despite the numerous musical turns, the album has been produced in a way that ensures its consistency throughout the entire work; “Life Goes On” leaves you with the chorus where the seamless melodic flow seems like it’ll just keep on going.

In “Skit”, BTS is talking about how they’re practicing their debut song for performance eveon on the day after “Dynamite” became No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100. After they topped the chart with “Dynamite”, they came back with an album filled with songs seemingly the polar opposites of their hit single. Life seems to be on a loop but changes suddenly appear, and previous routines end up different because of this newness. BE is an acceptance of such peculiarity of life rather than an answer to it. BTS began with K-pop and now have become superstars of pop, and they’ve harnessed the power of their own story in the album by choosing neither path. The team that began its journey with “No More Dream” and have traveled to “Dynamite” leaves an open ending as to where they will head next. Still, the next chapter will be shared regardless of what it shapes up to be. That is why they can leave us wondering what comes after BE.

Trans © Weverse

[flipomatic]

Choreography

Author Note: Here I am again, LisaYuki has reclaimed my soul.

Summary: “Lean in.” Those words, so simply escaping from Sayo’s lips, sent a tremor down Lisa’s spine.

“Y-you know we’re performing this on stage, right Sayo?” Lisa stuttered, her face warming as Yukina actually leaned in closer. Yukina was so close now; Lisa could feel her breath on her cheek. This was fine, she told herself. As long as she looked ahead at her mic during the song, she’d be fine.

Word Count: 1900

____________________________________________________________

Every time Roselia played their new song, Lisa was filled with overwhelming joy. The lyrics she wrote, the music Rinko composed, and the part she sang, all came perfectly together. The song was better than she ever expected it to be.

Soon they would perform Yakusoku for the first time, at an important concert. It had to be perfect by then, up to the high standard Roselia held for their music.

Today, on a cloudy afternoon, the final touches were being added. The song was almost ready to perform. Sayo had insisted on recording them playing it, so she could watch it back later for any errors. Her phone was set on a music stand in the back of the studio, capturing every note played.

Lisa focused on balancing playing and singing, making sure to be close enough to her mic. More than in any other song, she needed to be heard here. The notes from her bandmates flowed around her, with the drum carrying the heartbeat of the piece and the piano lifting it higher. She sang in reply to Yukina, as they built the song together.

Lisa’s heart always pounded in her chest when they reached the bridge of the song, where she alternated with Yukina. Lisa poured her feelings in every time, singing with everything she had. Her dedication, her loyalty, her affection; she wanted all of it to come through.

The last chorus was her favorite one, and she was sad to reach the end of the song.

Once the last note rang out, Lisa looked around at her bandmates. Rinko looked content as she slowly removed her hands from the keyboard. Ako was grinning from ear to ear. Sayo frowned slightly, but Lisa could tell that she was satisfied.

Yukina had turned to look at Lisa, their eyes locking when Lisa’s reached her. She nodded once, sending a wave of warmth and pride through Lisa.

Sayo stepped forward to stop the recording. “I’ll watch this later.” She said, holding up her phone. Lisa and Yukina broke eye contact to look at her. “But I think it’s ready.”

“I agree…” Rinko spoke quietly. Ako pumped one fist in agreement.

“The song has come together well.” Yukina deposited her mic on the stand. “Good work everyone. That’s all for today.”

With that dismissal, the band started to pack up. Lisa put her bass in its case, zipping it shut. She started to stow her music as well.

“The new song is so exciting!” Ako stood near Rinko as she packed up, talking excitedly about Yakusoku. “It builds really big!”

Rinko nodded in agreement. “I hope the audience… likes it.” She had finished stowing her keyboard, and was zipping up the case.

On the other side of the room, Sayo had finished putting her guitar away. Despite committing to do it later, she was already watching the recording. Yukina was with her, watching it as well. Lisa could barely hear it from here, though she thought it sounded good so far.

Lisa scooped up her bass case, slinging it over one shoulder. She approached the video watching pair as Rinko and Ako made their exit.

“How is it?” Lisa asked, drawing their eyes for a moment.

“The tempo has finally stabilized.” Despite the positive message, Sayo frowned. “It’s still missing something.” She looked irritated.

“Hmm…” Yukina mused, looking back down at the phone. Lisa stepped closer so she could do the same.

“I’m not sure it needs anything else.” Lisa said after thirty seconds of watching. It all looked good to her. The balance was perfect and as Sayo said, the tempo was under control. That had been their biggest problem when they started learning it.

Sayo was silent for a moment, as the video continued to play. Her eyes widened when the last chorus started. “That’s it.” She looked up at Yukina and Lisa. “We need choreography.”

“You’re right, I should’ve thought of that.” Yukina nodded, bringing one hand up to her face thoughtfully.

“It’ll boost engagement with the audience.” Sayo paused the video as she spoke, rewinding it to about the halfway point. “Especially if we time it right.” Her eyes practically glinted, in a sinister way that gave Lisa pause.

Lisa thought she might regret this, but she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

Now Sayo smiled sharply, the look of one who was satisfied with themself. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, I have to see how it looks.” She stepped away, back towards the center of the room. “Do you have a few minutes to try something?”

Lisa glanced at Yukina, who shrugged. “Yeah, we can stay.” Lisa replied.

“Great, go ahead and get back into position.” Sayo gave the instructions as she walked to the back of the room. She’d be able to see the whole area from there.

Lisa walked to where she’d been rehearsing before, while Yukina grabbed the mic stand and did the same. She set her bass case down.

Once they were in position, Sayo gave more directions. “I’m thinking of having it during the bridge, right before the last chorus.”

That made sense, since it was the largest point of build up in the song. “I assume I’ll stay here.” Lisa said, gesturing at her feet. “Since I need the mic.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Sayo turned up the volume on her phone, then played the video for a moment. “No one will move until the line ‘my beloved.’” She played the start of the bridge, which began with Yukina’s lines, before pausing it. “At the end of that line, Yukina you should walk towards Lisa. You have to be there by the start of your next line.”

Sayo gestured for Yukina to obey as she played the song again, which Yukina quickly did. Lisa glanced over and watched Yukina approach as her own voice singing ‘my beloved… the tender sights of your many smiles’ played from the phone. Lisa’s stomach flipped, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.

Sayo paused it at the end of the line, as with Yukina reaching Lisa just in time. “Put your hand on her shoulder.”

“Excuse me?” Yukina deadpanned. Lisa also wasn’t sure she had heard it right.

“You know what I said.” Sayo crossed her arms.

For a moment, the two stared at each other. Then Yukina complied, bringing her right hand up slowly to rest it on Lisa’s shoulder. Yukina’s own shoulder was still a good distance away.

“Lean in.” Those words, so simply escaping from Sayo’s lips, sent a tremor down Lisa’s spine.

“Y-you know we’re performing this on stage, right Sayo?” Lisa stuttered, her face warming as Yukina actually leaned in closer. Yukina was so close now; Lisa could feel her breath on her cheek. This was fine, she told herself. As long as she looked ahead at her mic during the song, she’d be fine.

“Yes.” Sayo replied bluntly. She lifted her phone again. “Yukina, you’ll sing your next line like that.” She played the audio for a moment, with Yukina’s voice singing ‘I’ve gently awoken’ before pausing it again. “Hold the mic for Lisa so she can sing her next line. Lisa, put your free hand over hers.”

Oh, no, no no no. As Lisa turned her head towards Yukina, realizing just how close their faces were, she knew that she could not handle this. Her cheeks had been warm before, but now they burned. Yukina wasn’t even looking at her, since she was focused on following Sayo’s directions, but she was far, far too close. Lisa could hardly breathe.

Yukina held the mic in front of Lisa’s face as Sayo played the last line of the bridge on her phone. Lisa slowly brought her hand up as directed, covering Yukina’s with it. Lisa’s voice on the recording, soft and oh god why had she written the song like this, sang ‘keep believing in me until the end’. Sayo paused it again.

This was like Hidamari Rhodonite, but even less outside of Lisa’s control. It felt intimate, terrifying. Yukina was right there. Her golden eyes, expressive to only those who knew her best, met Lisa’s.

For a moment, there was just the two of them.

Lisa pulled her hand away quickly and broke eye contact, reminding herself to breathe.

“Then Yukina will take one step away, for the line you sing together.” That was easy, that Lisa could do. Yukina moved away, back towards the side of the room. The recording played one last time, the last line ‘it’s a promise’ ringing through the room.

“I’ll make sure to go stand in the back, so all eyes are on you.” Sayo said with a nod. That provided no comfort to Lisa, who felt like she could collapse into a melted pile of mush. Only the bass would be left if she did.

“The crowd will love it.” Yukina said, cutting Lisa’s protest short before she could even start to voice it. She turned to Lisa, eyes widening slightly. They flicked down, then back to Lisa’s face. “Are you alright?” Her eyebrows were furrowed with concern.

Lisa was sweating and flushed; she must’ve looked incredibly stressed. Her words caught in her throat. “I, hehe,” She chuckled nervously. “I’m fine.” She was not fine. Lisa was very far from fine. “Are we sure about this?”

“I think it represents the song well.” Yukina replied, her mouth turning down into a frown. “If you’re not comfortable, we can change it.”

“I…” Lisa inhaled slowly, processing Yukina’s words. She was giving her an out, a chance to escape this. But, didn’t this choreography represent the heart of the song? Yukina and Lisa’s promise, how close they were, and their past together, were all on display here. Lisa had known that when she wrote the lyrics. This was just choreography to match, to show the parts of her she had filled the song with. If she thought calmly about it, which was admittedly hard right now, it made sense.

It would enhance the song, make it even better. That was enough to influence her decision. “We should do it.” Lisa settled on, accepting the moves even as her heart still raced. She’d dealt with being close to Yukina for many years, she could handle this.

Yukina’s lips quirked up, the smile reaching her eyes.

“We’ll keep practicing it next time.” Sayo interrupted, approaching the pair. “I think it’ll work.”

Yukina nodded, and the trio resumed getting ready to leave. Lisa picked up her bass as they put the mic stand back, then headed out from the studio.

The breeze outside helped cool Lisa’s warm cheeks, but it couldn’t do anything to calm her racing mind. She glanced at Yukina as she walked, marveling at how calm Yukina had been. She really was a professional, the best singer Roselia could ask for. Lisa wondered what she thought as they performed the new moves, but that was a question for another time.

Lisa still loved the song she wrote, though she was going to need to keep practicing it. It captured the spirit of her promise with Yukina, her feelings towards her best friend, which would only be performed by the best. Lisa would follow through on that promise, until the very end.

The next step was to perform it without nearly passing out.

____________________________________________________________

End Note: The translation of Yakusoku lyrics is from the wikia, linked here: https://bandori.fandom.com/wiki/Yakusoku

To see this choreography performed by Roselia, you can watch a video of Rausch Yakusoku here: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1DU4y147kS

[minjungfmd]

butterfly / creative claims verification

writing verification for @fmdjiah‘s butterfly. an instrumental inspired by the dreaminess of a movie, and lyrics that write a love story that feels like a remnant of a dream. warnings / none wc / 1687, not including lyrics 

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

despite how many times she’s repeated the movies in her head — set forth with the question of whether any erasure of the memory counts towards the steps of healing — she finds something new.

this time, the fixation on the cinematic score, an ethereal dream shifting the pieces of fragments of fiction versus reality prompts her fingers on the keyboard to start trickling a series of notes, one by one. trickling dainty, delicately. it mimics the tempo of classically thought-of harps, and the note leads to a drag over one and another. and when inspiration hits, she goes straight towards her home-studio, the new file of a blank screened ableton before the record starts, and she carries the notes, letting the settings hit almost to the notch of mute.

there’s no heavy emphasis, just the trickle of notes she wants to carry the dream of the track. it’s the lucid dreams, the ones that feel like when you’re drunk on little hours of sleep with heavy eyelids, and a heavy heart to match. the nostalgia that comes in waves, just like the gentle sounds to lull you to sleep, knowing full well you can’t.

she imagines the song to have a feeling, the lyrics that are sung in a way it just drags. heels in the ground, one word blending into another in a sultry emotion that counteracts the nostalgia lodged in the song — makes note of that for later, but for now, inaudible words, just phasing past her lips in small ideas of how the melody goes.

she takes the first one, the counter-progression of the initial notes as she hums the words, taking two notes forward in the same pitch before the other falls back. it all contrasts by the time she takes a stark turn, starting another line with a higher note, only to transition down. her pen jots the time stamp, a possible falsetto? she leaves that to later judgement.

but work doesn’t always come in a streamlined process, just as it’s hard to solidify ideas one by one, in a cohesive manner. instead, it comes wayward from all angles, and she falls back to the instrumental, taking in the slow bpm tempo — leading with a possible chord, heavy on the synth to start each trickle of keys. this time, the setting’s louder, spotlighting the attention to the thickness of the beginning, setting up for the entirety of the dream.

-

when she falls back on the track, she finds herself doused in inspiration days later. working on bits and pieces, martyring it like a puzzle still to be written. she takes her notes, one by one, still no lyrics at hand but an idea of non-coherent words and strings of random sentences — the heaviness of the chords, the synth and the trickle of keys she alters with editing, building up from the minimalism of the keys to heaviness of the synth by the time she picks where she sees the chorus.

vibrato on the voice, drag the end.

she writes that down, singing along empty words — a more powerful vocal execution, even where her own struggles. a dip before the vibrato and the drags paint the canvas whole.

the song’s not for her, least not when the power dynamics of the song — the counteraction between the softness of the dream with the voices of reality are centered around the song. the verses carry themselves alone before she takes in a different set of notes, speeding them up towards the end. a nameless track with an empty story — it’s the skeletons of something, maybe someday it’ll come into fruition.

— 

the song repeats itself in her head, like a taste of irony. it bleeds into her thoughts when she’s drifting back, lost in the middle of a meeting — the dreamy synths drowning out the talks of the executives, and by the time she spares a few hours, she’s already back into the studio, notebook wide scribbling down rudimentary sketches of clouds and figures.

turns out, it’s another love song struck in her mind when dreams entice a figure of her past that comes to haunt her in sweet memories, too sweet to be drowned out by any erasure.

she writes the first few words:

drawn in a dream that i can’t wake up from i was still looking for you

it’s like sleep walking, or some wicked form of lucid dreaming. walking around in circles hoping for a figure of the past keeping up — but the reality brings to a limbo that leaves her double questioning the thoughts of what’s real and what’s fake if the thing she’s looking for all along becomes the centerpiece  that all draws to him.

because she knows, optimistic thinking. wishful dreaming — it all dies the second dreams blur with reality, and what’s sitting in front of her becomes the hopes and wishes she spent her 11:11s and pennies on. her breath held still, a person of permanency to become exposed right in front of only to realize the first taste becomes like the first hit of a drug that takes over the body in full throttle. exhilaration, and addition all lying on the first whiff, putting her on a cloud nine, skies above her head. no recollection for the past nor future when the present feels so good.

now that i found you i can’t wake up i can’t escape from you

but even addicts have their downfall and the high doesn’t last long. least not when the shaky withdrawals of a person no longer being there starts to breed the downfall for a constant lingering feeling of wanting something that’s not there. she knows it, and she’s sure anyone else does too — the way he’s there and then poofs into fine air, the remnants of the cologne left on his clothes the only piece to tether her back (only, that’s a lie. it’s always been a lie when the memory becomes the final force of red string tethering her still).

in the end, he’s not a creature to be caved in nor is she a creature meant to stay still. freedom lingers like a butterfly always waiting at the end, with the only possibility of hope: maybe, someday it’ll return.

even if i struggle to hold onto you’re still like a butterfly

she wonders how she became a lovelorn addict in the first place. how she became jaded by the pinky promises and breaths shared underneath the blanket. heartbeats playing in sync, and the gleam in her eye that writes the story for a future left unwritten — little did she know, it’d be left as the future untold. 

if anything, it’s pride that tells her to regret. prevent the beggar nature to fall onto her knees and plead for a sense of freedom — because the more she thinks, the more she dwindles and the pang in her gut grows. 

she writes down her pleas here, because if not here — then anywhere housed in her thoughts would topple over the self-ruination in.

let go of my tired heart the deeper i get, the smaller i become the one that got away, making my heart more painful

it’s a pity song, a pitied dream. one word after the other scrawling itself across the pages. yet, the journal houses the same old song written fifteen different ways, each word, each sentence staking the same words unspoken to a boy she can’t bring herself to call. empty lines, and empty text messages — erased, then re-written over and over. and the only remedy becomes the hope that someday it’ll enter his own ears through the speakers — because in the end, she falls inside cowardice. falls too short, becomes a coward to bring herself to say it out loud: i miss you. i hate you. but i can’t regret you.

-

like a school girl, she carries her harddrive close to her chest. crossed again, hidden behind a mask as she finds her way, her own unwelcomed entrance coming in a peek through the doors before she steps into the studio. her hands toss the disk to her friend, sitting happily in front of the desk — he’s a free soul, unbridled by any company and a worker to all. still, friendship crosses work boundaries when she comes in for a second set of ears, and he picks up on the one-two cues already halfway plugging the drive into the computer.

“i want to add a series of chords, guitar — but i can’t get the right set, or the right set.” it’s her concession, when she hums along what she means, fingers already pointing to a screen at the set time point. “i’ve added in as much synth as you could see — heavy handed especially where the chorus blurs into the second verse, and the end of each line to exude that cloudy blur i want in this song. but here.” her nails tap once more at the screen. “i want this weird chord style, where it’s somewhere between electric and acoustic, heavier than the piano that carries the song.” 

too many words, and she waits in the silence, arms crossed against her chest — awaiting an answer. but she knows, her friend works in silence, taking in the entire song the whole way through before parting his lips to give any sort of answer.

“you could add it towards the end of the song? the entire beginning sounds too heavy on the synth to add anything else.”

she weighs her choices, a song spurned on by inspiration. yet, she stands in a limbo of not knowing what to do, and what to add. instead, she tilts her head, lips unevenly pursed to the side of her face. “could we try adding chords? but the specific settings of an unplugged electric guitar”

“you don’t think it’ll clash?”

“if we keep it silenced enough it doesn’t drown out the keys, i think it could work.”

her friend motions over to the lines of guitar stockpiled in the side of the room, “take your pick.”

her hands gravitate towards the first guitar, taking a seat on the couch behind them. uncertain, she motions with a nod to play back the instrumental of the song, void of her guide vocals, strumming one take to the next. it all leads to a simple c, and she flicks her gaze up, a eureka gloating in her eyes. “it’s this.”

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 6

Harry makes a movie while Rori makes some music: May 2016

Word Count: 1.7k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora knew she was moping, but she couldn’t help it. Harry looked across at her from where he sat nearby, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he watched her.  “Would you stop that?” he asked with a chuckle, drawing his mothers’ attention.

“Leave me alone, H,” Aurora replied, noticing the way that Anne’s gaze flicked between the two of them in confusion.

“What am I missing?” she asked her son.

“She’s mad at me,” Harry explained, looking not at all put out by the fact.

“I’m not mad,” Aurora argued. “I’m in mourning.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Harry laughed.

She rolled her eyes at him, remembering the conversation that had that had led them to now.

“Love, you know how I went to London a few months back to audition for that movie?” Harry had asked her. “I got it.”  

“Really?” Aurora had cheered, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly. “OMG! Harry I’m so proud of you.” She’d placed kissed all over his face before settling on his lips. “You’ll be fantastic.” 

“I’ve got to cut my hair,” he told her. Her face had fallen, the fingers of her right hand instantly moving to his long curls to tangle in them.  

“But I love your hair,” she had pouted. “How short does it need to go?” 

“Military short.”  

She let go of him, stepping backwards. “I hate this.”  

“I’m sorry love,” he’s replied softly. “It’ll grow back.”  

Now there she was, watching on as a hairdresser straightened out his hair, pulling it tightly back to the nape of his neck, scissors in hand. He laughed when Aurora winced, turning her head so she didn’t watch.

“It’s just hair,” he reminded her.

“Yeah and now it’s gone,” she sniped.

Anne chuckled as the pair continued to bicker while the haircut continued. When it was all over Harry took some photos of the ponytail and then he took his mum and fiancé out for lunch, hoping to snap Aurora out of her depressing mood by taking them to her favourite sushi bar.

xXx

Harry left for France a few weeks later, leaving Aurora in New York. She put on a brave face until he was out the door and on the plane, and then she hid herself away in her room. She felt ridiculous for being so dependant on him; the majority of their relationship had been long distance, but she had gotten so used to him being there every day since Christmas, that the idea of being separated for months was heartbreaking. Steve knocked on her door the evening after Harry left, letting himself in and sitting down beside where she was curled up on the bed.

“You feel like talking about it?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” Aurora mumbled.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” she replied.

“He’ll be back before you know it,” Steve promised, laying down to wrap his arms around her.

“It’s not just Harry being gone,” Aurora explained, curling into his side. “I should have been graduating next week.”

“Ever think about going back?”

“I don’t think I can. Just the thought of being back there has me shaking.”

“That’s ok,” Steve said. “I know Dad made a big deal about you going to college, but you don’t exactly need the degree.”

“Just feel like I failed though,” Aurora admitted. “I guess I’ve never really said that out loud, but I do. I feel like I was so close to finishing and that I’m always going to be a college dropout now.”

“You’re not a failure, bug,” Steve replied. “You have overcome so much, and you should be so damn proud of that. I know I am and so is your dad. You’ve got nothing to feel ashamed about. You’ve got your art and your music, and you don’t need a piece of paper to be successful and happy.”

“Thanks Pops,” she murmured, burying her face into his chest. “I’m so glad I have you and Dad.”

“Always,” Steve promised, “for anything you need.”

xXx

It was only after Harry left for France that Aurora realized how much she had enjoyed being back in the studio making music and now that he and his new band were gone, she missed it. She tried for an afternoon to work on her own but found the entire process too frustrating and ended up texting Mark to help find a solution

◊Aurora: hey can you find me a writing partner? I’m feeling inspired but need an extra hand both physically and metaphorically.

◊Mark: I’ll get right on it. Anyone in mind?

◊Aurora: no clue but I feel like you know me well enough to know who I’d vibe with.

2 days later she received a text from someone unexpected.

◊Niall: Hey babe, I hear you’re looking for a writing partner which is perfect because I’m not sure if you heard, but my band is on a break and I have a LOT of free time on my hands. What do you say I come hang out with ya for a bit?

◊Aurora: I’d really like that Ni and I’m pretty sure my dads will stop watching me every second of every day if you come stay with us for a bit.

◊Niall: consider me on the next flight… or at some point in the next few days, let’s be realistic.

xXx

True to his word, Niall arrived a few days later and the pair spent the day catching up on everything they’d missed since last seeing each other 4 months ago. Niall had been spending some much needed time back in Ireland with his family, but he had been excited when Mark reached out looking for someone to work with Aurora. They made their way down to the studio the second day of his stay and started kicking around ideas. For the most part, Aurora set herself up on the sofa, humming melodies and throwing out lyrics while Niall pulled out his guitar to accompany her.

After a few days of goofing around and not really coming up with anything either of them liked, Niall caught Rori’s eyes flicking to the grand piano in the corner of the room. “You miss playing?” he asked her.

“All the time,” she sighed. “I’ll get back to it eventually. Dad and Peter have already started work on a protype prosthetic and once I’m healed up, I can start getting it fitted.”

“I’ve never known you to be very patient,” Niall pointed out.

“Yeah it’s something knew I’m trying out,” she chuckled. “Some days I’m better at it than others. Just keep reminding myself that a few months is better than never.”

“Wanna try something?” he asked, holding out his hand for her. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet and lead her towards the piano.

“Ni…” she began to protest.

“Shut up,” he interrupted. “Just sit down.” She shook her head but did as he said, the fingers of her right hand automatically laying across the familiar keys. “You remember the notes for Night Changes?”

“Of course I do, but I can’t play Niall.”

“Just trust me,” he replied, nudging her side with his elbow where he sat next to her on the bench. “Play.”

She bit back any further argument and started playing the familiar notes. It was one of her favourites which was probably why he’d suggested it. Her eyes were trained on the ivory keys in front of her, so at first, she didn’t notice when his own hand lifted towards the piano, playing the left hand of the song. She smiled as he joined her, the timing slightly off until they found the right rhythm and then they both picked up the lyrics together. Her grin only grew as they sang, his right arm slung around her shoulder as they played together. As they reached the end of the song Aurora turned to hug her friend, unable to put into words how it felt to finally be getting back to the person she’d always been.

They spent the rest of the day at the piano, playing some of their favourites and just having fun. They lost track of time and as it neared dinner time, Steve came down to let everyone know food was on the table. Despite the fact that Tony told him time and time again that he could just have JARVIS let them know, he liked coming downstairs to get everyone, to which Tony would always mumble something about him being old fashioned and stuck in the 40s. He went to the recording studio first, opening the door slowly, not wanting to interrupt if they were in the middle of something. He paused in the doorway, a soft smile on his face as he watched the pair at the piano, his heart bursting with love at the way Aurora’s head was thrown back in a fit of laughter. Steve quickly left the room before either of them noticed him and he walked across the hall to the workshop where his husband and Peter were working away. “Tony,” he said when he entered the room, “drop whatever you’re doing. You need to come see this.”

Tony and Peter followed him back across the hall and all three of them watched on silently as Niall and Aurora played and sang. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony as the shorter man lent his head against his husband’s chest, both smiling brightly at their daughter’s joy. Peter snuck his phone out of his pocket, filming the two of them performing a terrible cover of Bye, Bye, Bye, having too much fun to be focusing on singing well. When the song finished, Niall caught sight of their audience over his shoulder, nudging Aurora with his elbow and drawing her attention to her parents and Peter standing in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve said when the pair spotted them. “Just came down to tell you dinner’s ready and got caught up in the concert.”

Rori was still smiling as she stood up and walked across the room. Tony hugged her tightly when she reached him. “Good to see you at the piano again kiddo,” he murmured against her ear.

“Honestly felt so incredible,” she replied, smiling brightly as Tony threw his arm around her shoulder, leading her out of the room towards the elevator.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[voemae582]

Fools Fall in Love

Short Fic. 

Marinette has been thinking of him non stop for days and days. While she's alone, or at least thinks she is, her heart begins to sing about her longing feelings. After she's finished a shadow reveals himself seeing her in a new light. Is this the one she's in love with? Does he like her more then just a friend?

The school bell rang and Marinette shuffled out of her class with her best friend Alya. They went to their lockers and chatted with friends in the common area. After a while the students slowly dispersed and went home for the day. Marinette was standing at the entrance with Alya and Nino. The couple invited Marinette to watch a movie with them, but she had other plans.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with?" Alya asked Marinette.

She shook her head. "You two go, besides, I've got some stuff to do. Have fun."

"If you're sure?" Nino questioned.

"Yeah, I'll text you guys later." 

She waved them off and once they were out of sight she turned around and went back into the building. Her hand slid up the railing as she stepped up the stair case. She hummed to herself and walked along the side of the railing on the second floor of the building. Looking down at the empty court yard made her feel calm. The fact that she was alone other than Tikki sleeping in her purse made her comfortable. At least for a while it gave her time to think of him.

She always liked him, she always enjoyed being around him. But she wasn't good at expressing herself. Anyone who knew her would tell you she's a mess when it comes to boys. After a few minutes she made it to her destination. The art room. 

Before she could twist the knob, the door opened. Marc and Nathaniel came walking out. Marinette yelped a little at the sudden surprise. Nathaniel and Marc were always in the art room doing little projects together but them suddenly popping out scared not only her but them. After the shock wore off in a second, they laughed.

"Hey Marinette." Nath said.

"Sorry for the shock, we're just leaving." Marc added.

"Hi guys, done already?"

Nathaniel clenched his sketch book in his arms, "Yeah, we're going to Marc's to finish it up. I've got a good feeling about this story."

"It's all thanks to your art." Marc mentioned. Nathaniel smiled wider.

Marinette loved seeing them so happy. "When it's done, maybe I could read it? I bet it'll be amazing."

"Sure, we'll see you tomorrow."

Marinette waved bye to them and entered the classroom. The lights were off but there was so much natural light that she didn't need to turn them on. She set her bags on a table next to an isle and positioned a sketch pad on it. 

After ten minutes of rough sketches she began humming to herself again. On the white piece of paper she made light lines and strokes making up the structure of a face. Her humming got more soft and gentle as she drew the details of the eyes. His face was detailed in her mind and she expressed her feelings with her pencil. Before she knew it there was one song in particular that rung in her head.

Meanwhile at the front of the school Adrien was getting out of his car. "I'll be right back, I think its in the classroom." Earlier that day Adrien forgot his Chinese book at school. He ran into the building and jogged up the stairs making it to his homeroom classroom. He grabbed the door and jiggled it. It was locked. "Locked?" He jiggled it again to no prevail.

Plagg flew out with his arms crossed. "So you miss a Chinese lesson, what's the harm?"

Adrien gave him a stern look. "You know what my father will say if I miss Chinese. Or well, it's more of a disappointed silence, which is worse." He looked around and saw no one. "There has to be someone here who has a key. Maintenance or a teacher?"

"Lets just-" Before Plagg could finish they heard the sound of something dropping a few classrooms away. Plagg hid in his master's bag and Adrien walked over hoping it was someone who could let him in. 

The art room door was cracked open and he peered inside. His hand slowly pushed the door a little more open. No one was in sight, until he saw Marinette stand up. She had bent over to grab a pencil pouch she dropped. When she stood up quickly Adrien instinctively hid outside the door. He didn't know why he was hiding. 

Marinette reached to put the pouch back on the table and some pencil's accidently rolled out and on the floor. She tried to catch them but fell in the process and Adrien heard her gasp as she slipped. When she tried to stand up again she hit her head under the table and a big thud echoed the room followed by a groan from the girl. She slowly stood up rubbing her head with one hand and placing the pencils on the table with the other.

Adrien couldn't help but giggle at her clumsiness. Even when no ones around she still trips. He thought of the saying, "If a tree falls and no ones around to hear it, does it really make a sound?"

"Marinette? Wow she really is clumsy..." Plagg blurted.

"Plagg, Shhhh!" Adrien hushed him.

While Adrien was arguing with Plagg, Marinette made sure the pencils wouldn't fall again and stood in front of her portrait. Tikki popped out of her purse, "Are you okay Marinette?"

"Yeah, sorry did I wake you?" She smiled at her sleepy kwami.

"No it's alright." She flew up and examined the picture. "Wow, Marinette this looks great."

"Thanks Tikki. I'm not quite done yet. It'll be a while longer, so if you want to nap some more you can."

"Just a few more minutes." Tikki kissed Marinette's cheek and snuggled back into her purse.

Outside the door Adrien was whispering to Plagg. "I should say something."

"Why? She doesn't know you're here, watching her all creepily." Plagg laughed.

He looked back into the classroom and before he went inside he was mesmerized by her. The look in her eyes, the focus and determination she had. He didn't want to bother her. He was about to leave but heard her start humming.

It was soothing.

He gazed back at her soft blue eyes. And she started to sing.

"Wise men say, Only fools rush in, But I can't help falling in love with you" She swayed to the rhythm. "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, If I can't help falling in love with you?"

He leaned against the wall and rested his head against the door side.

Her lips formed a sweet smile. "Like a river flows, Surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be."

He could watch her for hours.

"Take my hand, Take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you. Like a river flows, Surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be.."

At this point he desperately wanted to see the picture she was drawing with so much passion.

"Take my hand, Take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you. For I can't help falling in love with you..." Once she was done singing she started to hum.

"Wow..." Adrien whispered. He stood straight and knocked on the door before pushing it fully open.

The knock  made Marinette jump and fall on her butt. "A-Adrien!?"

He ran over to her to help her up quickly. "Marinette!? Are you okay?"

She got up as fast as she could so he wouldn't worry. "No! I-I mean yes, thank you." She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh, I forgot my Chinese text book here and I saw the door open." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I see..." She purposely stood in his way so couldn't walk around the isle and see her project.

Adrien awkwardly looked around trying to find anything to say. "Marinette, um, would you like to-"

"Marinette?" 

Adrien looked behind him and saw Luka standing in the door way. "Luka?"

"Hey Adrien!" Luka waved.

"Luka, you're here already? Time sure flies by.." Marinette laughed.

Luka stood next to her. "You two going to hangout?" Adrien asked.

"Yeah, I'm teaching her guitar. You want to come over too?" Luka offered.

"Sorry, I have Chinese lessons..."

"Well maybe next time then. Ready to go?" He grabbed Marinette's bag for her and they started to leave.

"I'll see you in class Adrien." Marinette smiled.

"Y-yeah, see you tomorrow." He gave them a weak wave as they exited. As soon as they left Adrien let out an irritated sigh. "Marinette's just a friend."

"Sure kid, whatever you say." Plagg flew out and patted his cheek.

He noticed she left her sketch pad on the isle and walked around to see it. "Amazing..." The portrait was of Luka. His detailed blue eyes and wild hair. "Of course it is..." His finger tips caressed the surface of the page and he traced lightly not to smudge it the lines she was so focused on. "Lets go Plagg, the Gorilla's waiting."

"What about your book?"

"It doesn't matter." He was passing the isle and accidently bumped it, making the sketch pad fall. "Oops!" He knelt down to pick it up. When he flipped through the pages to find Luka's portrait he froze. There were portraits of him in it. From many different angles she drew him as well. Not only him there was at least a few of Chat Noir too. "Plagg do you see this?"

"So?"

"She drew me. Me! Adrien, Adrien and Chat Noir" He flipped through them and near the end his disappeared and Luka's began. "Wait, why did she stop?"

"That's what happens when you get a new muse. Sorry kid, but looks like she found a new tune."

"Tune?"

"Goodbye pianist, hello rock star!" Plagg played air guitar.

Adrien put it back on the isle and walked out of the room. "Let's pretend we didn't see it after all." He started plotting down the stairs melancholy and saw Marinette running in the building. She ran up only a few steps above him and looked down at him as he looked at her.

"Um, forgot something." She shrugged.

"It happens to the best of us." He smiled. She giggle and ran the rest of the way up the stairs. He watched her go into the art room. "I'm such a fool." And he walked out of the building.

[jawnjendes]

girl, you’re trouble | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

AN: i dont love the title but whatever i guess!! let me know ur thots, Thots! ALSO theres a bit of Spanish in this (surprise, the goth gf is actually mexican) so get ur fuckin translators out

masterlist | series playlist

I woke up alone in bed, but I wasn’t alone in the apartment. Just outside the bedroom, in the living room, I heard the sounds of Shawn singing and playing guitar. A smile appeared on my tired face. It’s been a while since I heard that pretty voice. It took me a minute to process what exactly he was belting out, but it must have been new. I’ve heard all of his songs, but this one was unfamiliar to me.

“Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in

Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can’t

It isn’t in my blood”

With a heavy sigh, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. However, as soon as I extended my arm and tried to stretch, I felt the minor sting of my incisions. I groaned and remained lying where I was, and I waited for Shawn to get all his sad boi feelings out. Good thing I loved hearing him sing.

“Laying on the bathroom floor, feeling nothing

I’m overwhelmed and insecure, give me something

I could take to easy my mind, slowly”

Okay, that was a direct hit to the feelings I tried so hard to keep tied up in a small box in the back of my mind. I felt small and helpless all over again in a matter of seconds. I had to lie on this bed and stare at the ceiling while I waited for my boyfriend to come and help me sit up. I had to depend on someone else to get by, and I never experienced that. I needed help, and I hated it. I hated being so vulnerable. Crazy how his words could drastically change my mood. And I literally just woke up.

Out of sheer spite (to whom, I don’t know), I dug my elbows into the mattress and attempted to pick up my head and shoulders. I felt the strain below my belly button, where the biggest incision was located, but I still tried to sit up on my own. Then, a sharp pain went through where I was cut into, and I groaned through gritted teeth. I dropped my head back and took a deep breath. I can do this.

Shawn’s guitar playing suddenly stopped. “Honey?”

Okay, I can’t do this.

I took another deep breath and tried to erase the frustration from my face as the door to the room opened. Shawn dashed inside and approached me.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, looking up and down at my body like he was expecting me to be bleeding.

“Nothing, I was just trying to sit up,” I replied monotonously.

“Well, why didn’t you call me? I was just right outside the door.” Without even asking, he leaned down to wrap an arm around my back and moved me into a sitting up position. I felt a bit stupid.

I decided to change the subject. “Was that a new song I heard?”

“Yeah, something that hit all of a sudden,” he said. “What’d you think?”

Carefully, I shifted so my legs hung over the edge of the mattress. “I liked it a lot. I was happy to hear you sing again.”

Now I was able to reach for my phone on the nightstand. I had a new text from my mom, saying that she and my dad landed in Toronto. A deep pit formed in my stomach.

“My parents are in the city,” I said, my eyes widening.

Shawn didn’t reciprocate my nerves. “That’s great! Do they need a ride from the airport?”

“No!” I answered too quickly. “Uh… If you pick them up and I’m not there, they’ll be upset that I didn’t personally welcome them here. And if I do go with you, they’ll freak out because I’m not taking better care of myself post-surgery. Just let them get a Lyft.”

“Okay, then…”

For the first time in weeks, I got myself ready. Yeah, I was in the hospital for a week and a half, but exams season was prior to that event. I had been looking raggedy for a while now. My face was a little sunken in from the dramatic weight drop I experienced from my diet, but I didn’t look Dead dead. I brushed my teeth and straightened my hair, and I felt good about it. Plus, I was glad to discover I still had the skill to almost effortlessly draw on inner and outer wings on my eyes. I mean, I had one eye done successfully...

Shawn was watching me in the bathroom, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face. I pretended to be too busy drawing on my other wing to acknowledge him for about five seconds. The pressure was a bit much.

“Can I help you, my dear?” I asked, finally drawing the outline of my wing.

“You just look so pretty,” he said mindlessly. “And you’re so good at putting on makeup.”

I chuckled. “It’s just eyeliner.”

Then the subject changed. “So… I know I’ve asked, but I still don’t know the answer. What are your parents like?”

I never knew how to answer a question like that without sounding like an ungrateful child. “Um… my mom’s an Aries and my dad is an Aquarius…”

“Babe.”

“My mom’s name is Lucy, and my dad’s name is Ed,” I tried again. “They’ll talk to each other in Spanish if they don’t want people around them to know what they’re saying. A lot of people say I’m a mix of both of them. Uh, they’re swayed by actions and not words. They know you make me happy, so they should be nice.”

“Should?” Shawn repeated. “Uh, okay. Noted. My parents and sister are coming over too. Like, a little bit later. So it’ll be a big happy family time.”

“Fun!”

Oh god. If there was anything in my body, I’d shit myself.

For once, the two of us were dressed in something other than pajamas. I mean, I still had on black sweats, but I had on my black long sleeve with a rose embroidered on the chest. It was nicer than a t-shirt, in my opinion. Plus, it went well with Shawn’s black floral button up and black jeans. His outfit was a bit more colorful, but I was a little giddy that we had an unplanned theme going on.

My parents came over first. I heard the knock on the door and made tense eye contact with my boyfriend. Then, I remembered one last bit to tell him.

“Oh, uh… my father doesn’t appreciate names like Gomez Addams, Alice Cooper, Gene Simmons… y’know what I mean?” I said, snaking my arm around Shawn’s waist so we could walk to the front door.

“Why would I call him that?” he asked, confused.

“It’s just his… aesthetic? Appearance? He’s serious about it, and he doesn’t like people poking fun at it, even if it’s not malicious. Tell that to your family too.”

Shawn nodded, but he still seemed confused. I would have explained more, but another well-timed knock on the door distracted me.

“You can just wait on the couch if you want,” he told me as we strolled through the hallway.

“No, I don’t want you facing them alone.”

It’s cute how he thought I was joking. But I was not leaving him alone as long as my parents were here.

“Oh!” I interjected. “One more thing! Do not mention my birth control or my Prozac. They’ll flip their shit if they find out!”

“Shit, okay…”

When we got to the door, I answered. My mother practically screamed.

“Mija! Mi chiquita!” She hugged me around the shoulders, causing the fuzz from her fluffy pink coat to get in my mouth. For once, she was able to reach my shoulders because she was wearing sparkly, silver wedges.

She leaned back and smiled at me, tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. My mom didn’t exactly look young for her age, but she certainly dressed like it. Under her pink coat, she had a lavender dress on and white tights. Not only that, she had dyed her hair a lighter brown in the time that I had been away from home. It was a surprise, but it suited her.

“Love the hair,” I told her with a smile.

She kissed me on the cheek, leaving behind a pink lip stain. “Thank you, mija. Your hair has gotten really long! And you’ve lost weight!”

There it is.

My father was clad in a black leather jacket, a grey t-shirt and black jeans. He had on a black beanie, which covered his full head of dark hair. Last time I saw him, he was clean shaven, but now he had a decent amount of scruff on his chin. He was as tall as Shawn, but way less muscular. He held out a hand to him, and that was when I noticed his nails were also painted black. Haven’t seen that in a hot minute.

“How ya doing?” he greeted. “I’m Ed, and this is my wife, Lucy.”

Shawn shook his hand and smiled. I could tell he was nervous. “Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out to my mom next, but she pulled him into a hug.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, honey,” she told him, returning his nervous smile.

“You too.” Shawn was pleasantly surprised by the gesture.

Dad hugged me as tight as Mom did. “Mija. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you guys,” I told them.

“Ah, it’s about time you do!” Mom said, still smiling.

And comes the first awkward pause of the week.

“Come on in!” Shawn piped up, gesturing for them to go down the hallway. “Living room is down that way. Would you guys like some water?”

“Oh, you sweetheart. Please, if you don’t mind,” Mom told him before following my dad to the living room.

That gave Shawn and I a moment alone as we went into the kitchen. It was a moment to breathe and to process everything. I looked at him, not really sure what to expect. Did he hate them already?

“You didn’t tell me your parents were polar opposites,” he told me quietly as he went to get glasses from the cabinet. “You never told me your dad was a goth.”

“You never asked,” I said, bemused.

“I’ve asked you like ten times!”

We went back to the living room with glasses of water. My mom was quick to stand up and help me sit on the couch.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around so much,” she suggested.

“It’s good for me, trust me,” I replied. I wonder how much mothering I could take before I had it.

“Let me see your scars,” she said, grabbing at my shirt to look at my bandaged incisions. “Are they healing? Do they hurt at all?”

She’s my mom. What could I do? I sent my mildly embarrassed gaze over to Shawn, who was setting the glasses of water down on the coffee table. He only gave me an amused smile.

“Oh, god no!” Dad snapped, turning his head away. He coughed and gagged.

“It’s not that bad,” I told him. “It’s three holes and two lines in my tummy!”

“Nope! I can’t do blood!”

“There’s no blood!”

Mom pulled my shirt back down and sat next to Dad on the other end of the L-shaped couch. “You dress and act so scary but you can’t even look at your daughter’s wounds!”

They began to bicker in Spanish, to which I rolled my eyes at. Shawn sat down next me and we shared a look.

“Just wait,” I told him. “They’ll be done in a second. Then, they’re gonna interrogate you.”

“Great.”

Once my parents got themselves together, they simultaneously turned to us, hands folded in their laps. They moved together like robots sometimes, it was strange. But it worked for them.

“So, mija,” Mom said, “when will you be coming home?”

Oof. An unpleasant thing to talk about.

“Actually…” I trailed off. “I’m gonna be recovering til the middle of August. If I didn’t have these huge cuts under my belly button, I’d be ready to go home next week…”

Mom blinked a few times, like she hadn’t process what I said. Dad, on the other hand… his face fell. Honestly, I wasn’t too happy about this arrangement either.

“When does school start for you?” Dad asked.

“A week after I’m supposed to be recovered,” I replied. “And I have to get my dorm ready, and my professors will start setting assignments that month. Not to mention, I still have a job.”

“So you can go to work, but you can’t come home?” Mom’s warm, loving facade now vanished. Her face went hard and cold, and her eyes were daggers.

“My job isn’t that far from here,” I told her. “And I’m sitting at a desk most of the time. Trust me, I wanna go home too, but the doctor said-”

She cut across me. “The doctor said you stay con tu pinche novio, verdad? No quieres dejar ese chamaco? No quieres ver tu familia porque ya tienes novio!”

My dad gently placed his hands on her shoulders and quietly spoke to calm her down. It wouldn’t do any good, because now I was angry, and I talked back.

“Él no es chamaco! Me está cuidando, y estoy muy agradecido que me deje quedarme aquí! Sin él, hubiera estado sin hogar y varado! Ma, el doctor me dijo que no puedo viajar asi!” I raised my voice, causing Dad to hold up a warning finger.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that!”

“Pues, claro que no quieres viajar! How convenient!” Mom snapped. “Quieres quedarte con ese guey, no me mientas.”

My dad looked at my startled, confused boyfriend. “Listen, Shane-”

“Shawn,” I corrected, folding my arms.

“Sorry. Shawn. I’m sure you’re a nice guy,” Dad continued, “but we don’t know enough about you. We don’t know if this is a safe enough place for our daughter.”

Shawn sat up. “I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know, sir.”

“Nos va a mentir,” my mom spoke, looking at my dad with wide eyes. “Nos dirá que queremos oír.”

Normally, I would have kept at the Spanish, but I was over it now. Especially in front of my English speaking boyfriend. “Just give him a chance, Ma!”

Dad gave me a look like I was crazy. “Mija… she’s not wrong.”

I ignored him and turned to Shawn. “They’ve been here all of ten minutes and they already think you’re a liar. They think you’re forcing me to stay here or something.”

“Hey, we did not say that!” Mom pointed a manicured finger at me.

“It’s gonna lead to that! You’re always going to the worst case scenario!”

“Well, you’re still sick! He could leave or kick you out!”

Shawn spoke up. “Um… with all due respect, I wouldn’t do anything like that. I care so much about your daughter, I wouldn’t even think about leaving her like this, especially since…” He paused and glanced at me once. “I already knew how I felt about your daughter, but her time in the hospital made it even more clear. I love her… so much. All I wanna do is make sure she’s okay and healthy. And I wanna make her happy, too.”

That was all… the sweetest shit ever. But my mother still had a skeptical look on her face. My dad had his eyes narrowed, but he spoke next.

“I can see that. She told us that you slept at the hospital, saw her through to her surgery. Even before that, you stayed despite her health issues. I think that’s a good man.”

My faith was restored and shattered again with every word. “Despite my health issues?” I repeated.

“Ay, mija,” Mom said with a sigh, “you of all people should know how much of a hassle it is to deal with your sickness.”

“Well, Shawn doesn’t see me as someone who’s sick. He never has.”

“It’s really no hassle,” he added. “If anything, she pushes me to eat better.”

“And I only get sick if I eat the wrong thing. Most of the time, I’m fine.”

Mom scoffed. “You were in the hospital. Obviously, you did something wrong!”

Heard those words before… every time I was in the bathroom at my parents’ house. It was my fault. I felt defeated, so I sat back and pinched the bridge of my nose. It was hard to keep my body relaxed when I was so tense and frustrated. Of course, my silence prompted my mom to keep talking… to Shawn.

“As a child, whenever she got mad, she told us she was going to run away to Canada,” she recalled with a chuckle. “And she did! She got a scholarship offer from UCLA, but she chose to run here instead.”

I didn’t run away. I chose the place I actually applied to, and it was Toronto.

“How was I supposed to look after her? What would happen if she got sick?”

I got sick here, and it was handled. I knew how to handle my own burdens. Part of being chronically sick is learning to live with it. Part of it was always being seen as sick to some people. That happened whether you want it to or not.

“Aside from that,” Dad added, “we were also worried about the type of person she might end up with. She’ll pick whoever she picks, obviously. We just don’t wanna see her with someone who’ll influence her the wrong way. I’m sure she’s told you, but she’s had some rough relationships in the past.”

Shawn nodded. “Oh yeah. I know all about Luca.”

“Who’s Luca?”

God fuckign-

Keeping secrets from my parents was not allowed when I lived with them. It was hard trying to find privacy, much less ask for it. If I wanted to keep something for myself, then I was hiding something and that was bad. I couldn’t even keep a journal without worrying that they’ll read it behind my back. They were always able to get stuff out of me anyway… because they’re my parents, and they want to help, and I can only trust them and no one else. They did everything for me, the least I could do was reveal personal information so they knew every little thing that was going on with me.

Don’t even get me started on how offended they would get if I didn’t want to talk about certain things. I wanted time to sit with my depression when it started happening, only for my parents to literally ground me because I kept it from them. My mom was upset because I didn’t tell her about Shawn from the moment I laid eyes on him. So when I told them that I did not want to talk about my past thing with Luca, they weren’t exactly thrilled.

Thankfully, Shawn’s family finally made it over. That meant that my parents had to put on their civil customer service attitudes. Anyway, I finally met Shawn’s dad and sister, Manny and Aaliyah. I was still in a physical state I didn’t want to be in, but this was much better than when I was on morphine and hitting on my boyfriend.

Within minutes, our parents were bragging about their kids. Not in a way where they were trying to one up each other, more like they were proving their kids were good together. My mom let go of some of her skepticism as Karen gushed about her son. Karen also brought up that she was at the hospital with me, which started up that conversation.

“Okay, mija,” Mom said, looking at me. “How bad was this infection? I couldn’t understand the texts you sent me.”

“Before or after the surgery?” I asked.

“Pues, los dos.”

I spent about twenty minutes explaining the infection, the antibiotics, and the trip to the emergency room.

“So what happened? Why did you get that infection?” Dad asked.

“She stopped taking care of herself,” Mom answered for me. “I’m assuming you and your vato go out a lot. ¿Están comiendo pura basura, verdad?”

“No es cierto!” I argued, but I had to remember the other witnesses in the room. “Sometimes, these things just happen. I was really upset to that I spent so much time taking care of myself, only to end up having surgery. But everything went well. The surgery was successful, and I’m okay.”

I could still see fire in my mother’s eyes, but she held her tongue. It was just another argument to be had later. It was a little embarrassing, having Shawn’s family witness the tension and underlying rage. The only person who seemed entertained by it was Aaliyah.

“And after the surgery?” Dad asked, gesturing for me to continue. “You had another infection?”

“Just on the incision,” I replied. “That was take care of with antibiotics.”

“That’s not what your texts said.”

“Huh?”

Now, I remember sending my parents updates on my condition, despite the fact that they were without their phones literally the entire time I was in the hospital. I knew I sent them the text about having a surgical site infection.

Shawn spoke up, his voice soft. “Honey…”

I turned to him, but he was looking at the floor now. His jaw was clenched, like he was holding something back. He was silent long enough for his mom to speak up.

“You did have an infection, yes,” she said, “but that was a few days after… The day after your surgery, you went into shock. They found out you were hemorrhaging, and they took you into the OR again. If they didn’t catch it when they did, you could have died.”

I only stared silently, my mouth half open. My mom gasped and clutched her chest, horrified. Dad was rubbing his hands together, trying to process what was spoken. Aaliyah had her mouth wide open, like the greatest tea was being spilled. Manny and Shawn were both looking down at the floor.

“Holy crap,” Aaliyah whispered, breaking the silence.

“Why did nobody tell me this?” I finally asked.

“The fever and the drugs made you delirious,” Shawn explained, picking his head back up. “They told you, but you probably don’t remember. Sometimes you didn’t even recognize me. And I sent most of the texts to your parents. Figured they would want to know.”

Every word was like a hammer to my chest. Now that I was thinking about it, my hospital memories were fuzzy. If there was something I did remember, it was my boyfriend sitting at my bedside for days. Also, his nightmares made a lot more sense now. It was my fault.

It’s all my fault.

That night, I lied awake. Again. Shawn frequently thrashed and yelled in his sleep. I found myself wondering if I would actually wake up again.

[colonel-insomniac]

Music to Me

a big thank you to @whatdourelfeyessee for suggesting the song Music to Me from the musical Who’s Your Baghdaddy, and providing the inspiration for the two ideas tied together!! Happy late Valentine’s day, and enjoy!!

read the first four: 1 2 3 4

or read on ao3

“You are the banjo that I’m strummin’, the merry tune I’m hummin’, full of glee…”

Bobby would say he’s not scared of much, but then he’d be lying. He’s been through what he thinks of phases of being scared: he was scared of the dark, he was scared of getting made fun of, he was scared of getting caught skipping school that one time, he was scared of getting caught in the endless trap of procrastination, among other things. 

But Bobby’s never really been scared of heights. Not until he’d had to climb a volcano that was about to blow. He’s always liked feeling lifted above the world, away from whatever issue might be plaguing him. Now everything’s changed, and he’s scared. He’s been jumpy, and it’s been a week. Bobby thinks he just needs to face this terror head on, that’ll fix it all. 

So here he is, alone at four in the morning. Pat had been sleeping over since the event, keeping an eye on Bobby. Press had been swarming his apartment, meaning that they couldn’t go anywhere, but they were fine with that. As Bobby tiptoed over the sleeping forms of the press, he noticed that the famous anchorman, Perch Perkins, wasn’t amongst them. He thought that was a good thing, everybody needs to recoup instead of slapping on a mask.

“You are the symphony that slays me, my melody that stays right in key…”

So anyways, Bobby saw that same terrifying mountain from the same point a week ago, looming above him, and it’s almost as though he hasn’t ever left. But this time, he doesn’t have Sandy with him to ground him. His hands shake as he places him open palm on the grass and dirt. The mountain looks so peaceful for something that attempted to kill him not that long ago. 

Each step is premeditated, always checking to see if it’ll be the step to kill him. He gets ten feet up before he physically cannot move anymore, and collapses on an edge of the mountain that’s wide enough for him to sit on. Air keeps filling his lungs, he’s only inhaling now, and in the back of his mind he remembers he needs to exhale. Bobby quickly glances down before tilting his chin to look at the stars glittering in the sky. 

“You are music to me…”

No one was here to console him now, he truly was alone. And terrified, too. So terrified he started crying. It was like the world was closing in on him, darkness threatening to choke him. He desperately needed Patrick with him, but he can’t even move his arm to call him. He’s stuck, at four in the morning, watching as ocean waves lapped at the shore on the horizon, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the chilled night air biting through his sweater.  

 He wants to go higher, he can’t chicken out at ten feet, and so reluctantly, Bobby stands on shaky legs, breathing in deeply to try and stabilize himself, and started climbing yet again. Bobby kept his eyes focused on the rock directly above him, climbing higher and higher. 

“Bobby!!! Bobby!!!” Bobby froze at the sound of his name, clinging to the rock for dear life. 

He's too shaken at the presence of another person that he doesn't process who it is at first. He can feel a drop of sweat slide down the side of his head, and when his brain tells him it's his beloved best friend, Bobby almost doesn't believe himself. He takes a chance, thoughts focused on Pat now: "P-Pat?" The word comes out a whisper, and he feels the fear clawing up his throat again. He can’t stop though, there’s no where for him to stand without having to cling to the rock. 

He gulps; he’s at an impasse. He can climb a little more or he can cling to the rock and wait for help. And now that he thinks about it, it feels as though his hands are slipping. He could die after all. He mutters the same words he did when he had to reassure himself at the event last week, but the words feel hollow. They can’t console him like they did before, and the thought makes him panic. 

He scuttles upwards, in all senses of the word. His feet kicked at the air, feeling around for somewhere to put his legs, his eyes scanning around every few seconds for somewhere he can stop. It doesn’t take him a long time to find and area where he can rest. Bobby knows he isn’t even halfway up the mountain based on his memories of climbing this exact area. 

“You are the tone of my piano, my chortling soprano chickadee…” 

“Bobby, what are you doing?!” Pat calls up to Bobby, who’s maybe fifty feet high. Pat’s voice is carried to him on the breath of a wind, strained and full of concern and love and all the good times with his best friend run through Bobby’s head in less than an instant. “I thought I could do it,” He shouts down to Patrick, who looks like a pocket-sized version of the actual Pat. “I was wrong. I don’t think I can get down. I’m scared.” 

Though he can’t see them, he can feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as his voice shakes in terror. He squints as Patrick turns around and looks at the town in the distance before stepping towards the mountain. Bobby’s shocked to his core when Pat starts climbing; and he's so worried for the one person he thinks he cares the most about. If something happens, it’s definitely Bobby’s fault; and what’s worse is he’d be so lost without Pat to guid him. 

“Patrick be careful!” He shouts down to Patrick, several times actually, and Pat just nods, focused on his one mission to get to Bobby. As Bobby panics, his subconcious releases a little song he wrote back in his senior year of high school. And with that comes a memory of his mom telling him to use what he loves to ground himself. His voice cracks once as he struggles to get the lyrics out of his throat. But they come out, and through his blurred vision, he can just barely see Patrick pause in the slightest bit. 

“You are the theme of my cantata, my masterful sonata in G…” 

He’s nearer now, Pat is. He climbs closer and closer, and then all that’s left is getting down. Right as Bobby’s saying the last lines, Pat reaches him, and the two embrace. “Buddy, you scared me bad. Don’t just leave in the middle of the night like that.” Bobby feels the vibration of Pat’s voice in his bones as the taller of the two holds the shorter one’s head to his chest. Bobby tucked his chin against his chest, his cheek firmly pressed against Patrick’s chest. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I honestly thought I could get over it if I forced myself to.” Bobby mutters in response.

“It’s fine to still be wounded from the whole incident, I still wake up sometimes thinking that you’re out there climbing this mountain of doom.” 

The words come as a shock to Bobby, even though maybe he expected to not be the only one still affected by the catastrophic events that almost ended the town. 

“You are the guitar that I’m strummin’, the rhythm that I’m drummin’, full of glee…”  

And all this time, through thick and thin, through fights and happy times, it’s always been Patrick who was there for him. It was Patrick who persuaded him to apply to the Krustie Krabbe, just like it was Pat who convinced Bobby to throw the Eruptor Interruptor into the flaming, smoking mouth of the volcano. 

And maybe Pat wasn’t always the highest scoring kid in their class, but he was insanely wise when you really thought about it, and Bobby’s been through a couple relationships, never once realizing that he really should’ve been looking at Pat in a closer view. 

Bobby steals a glance at Patrick, heart hammering wildly. He takes a chance, though, and while Patrick is distracted by watching the sunrise in front of them, he leans over and presses a quick peck on Patrick’s cheek. 

“You are the symphony that sweeps me, the tuning fork that keeps me in key…” 

Pat turns his head towards Bobby, confusion mixing with slow realization on his face. Maybe it’s because they’ve been in each others lives for so long, or maybe it’s because they’re meant to be, but it’s almost as though Pat can ready Bobby’s mind. Instead of saying anything, Pat simply wraps an arm around Bobby’s shoulders and draws him closer to his side, and leans his head ontop of Bobby’s. 

All is not fixed, Bobby’s still terrified, and Pat is still keeping a close eye on his best friend-slash-future boyfriend. But as the sun rises on their beautiful beach town, they know everything will probably be okay. 

The two sing the last lines of Bobby’s song together, softly, for one another and no one else.

“You are music to me, can’t you see?”

[somecynicalanimator]

Module - Performance & Character

When trying to come up with ideas for the short story, I hit a large road block early on, struggling to come up with an idea for my short story. I had some ideas about someone playing air guitar and putting their foot through a TV, or running away from a gang of people as I had when working on the climbing animation. However, I thought that these were too lacking in narrative to be the basis for a solid animation. I consulted one of my lecturers for advice, and received some decent advice. I was told that the short story doesn’t need to be very complicated, and that drawing upon real life can be a decent strategy. Something else I was told is that ideas need to be often left to incubate, and that trying to force out ideas is like trying to draw blood from a stone. An example he gave of letting things rest for a while was from the classic Sherlock Holmes books, in which he would go to the theater or just do something beyond investigating the murder case, allowing his ideas to incubate and mature on their own instead of forcing them, allowing him to figure out the case. A breakdown of this process can be seen on this website (http://geoffpetty.com/creativity/) in which allowing ideas to be crop up on their own can be beneficial.

When talking to a fellow classmate about ideas for this work, I came up with one idea I could go with: a quick draw stand-off. This idea was likely inspired by the fact that I’ve recently been playing some games from the Kirby franchise, which have a few different variations of a quick draw mini-game. One problem I had when thinking about this story idea is the set up, as quick draw standoffs in Western movies usually have some sort of cause, like one person wronging the other or belittling them in some way, leading to a fight. For this problem I turned more towards my inspiration, more specifically the version of this mini-game in Kirby Super Star (1996). This one, Samurai Kirby, obviously had more of a samurai theme to it. I felt that having two samurais, or just swordsmen, crossing paths during their travels and clashing seemed better to me than having to gunslingers clash without any motivation, whereas in this case I felt that both of them feeling anxious could lead to a preemptive strike. They could also end up just putting both their swords up to defend themselves, leading to them clashing and allowing tensions to easy natural towards the end of the short story. Though as I gave it more thought I decided that I could still go with the gunslinger standoff, but only show the standoff, as if something happened that made them want to fight, and they both decided to meet at a specific space and time, which is where the animation starts.

I feel the best idea I managed to come up with was something I thought up at 2am on morning, when inspiration struck. My idea was initially Buckid manipulating Maya controls on his own, creating blocks and spheres and being able to move them and change their scale. I then came up with a story in which Buckid and Keith fight for the title of mascot rig for Salford Animation Students, based on how we were introduced to the Buckid rig in 1st year, becoming the go-to rig for me and my peers, then in 2nd year the Keith rig was shown to us. Polygon cubes would be better for defensive actions, like creating walls and barriers to protect themselves as they don’t roll very easily, whereas polygon spheres would be better for offense, as the can bounce and roll into characters when thrown at great speed. One idea I had was in order to confuse the other rig, one of them will switch the automatic lighting to manual lighting, and without any lights dropped in it’ll be too dark for them to see each other. Then one of them creates a spotlight to blind the other. When dropping Keith in Maya, it tends to be super large compared to Buckid, so based on this I thought that Keith could become giant towards the end in order to attack, like Baby Bowser in the game Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island (1995). One way I thought the fight could end is one of them, or the animator, rendering, meaning that they can’t move, maybe one of them spawns bifrost water first to make the rendering extra slow. When imagining the rigs manipulating the polygon models, I couldn’t help but imagining them taking poses similar to those seen when Fire/Earth-bending in the show Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005), likely because I’ve recently finished watching the series.

I created some thumbnail sketches exploring what I wanted to implement into my short story animation, sketching ideas I came up with. I feel much of the actual fight scene will have to be cut down due to time constraints. What I could do instead is have them partake in something that more closely resembles a snowball fight than a full on brawl, but it still escalates with them throwing cubes and then making them expand as they fly towards each other.

[rkxsungwoon-blog]

✦ — MGA4 EPISODE 2: PANEL AUDITION #4048: HA SUNGWOON ; skill: singing + playing the guitar performance: attention — charlie puth ( 0:00 - 1:29 ) [ x ] *

when the episode airs, sungwoon is lying upside-down on the couch, trying to shovel popcorn into his mouth without choking. the house is empty, he’s bored, and the sudden influx of free time summer vacation brings has him feeling some kind of way. it’s not a bad way, really. he just isn’t used to not being busy, and laziness threatens to settle into his bones like a permanent state of being. when he’s not at work, he’s parked in front of the tv, binge-watching whatever shows he can. there are more productive ways to spend his time, sure, but the tv is right there and—

he wasn’t really planning to watch the mga episode. after the auditions, sungwoon had embraced realism and come to terms with the fact that he’d be lucky if his performance aired. it wasn’t really about skill—he just knew he didn’t belong there. woojin was right; what did people like them have to do with a show like that? he only regretted he’d wasted a whole day on the process, especially since his boss kept harping on him about taking the time off. it was a good experience regardless, but he’s ready to move on and return to the comfort of empty enigma.

but that’s him—his face on screen, his height, his voice. sungwoon drops the bowl of popcorn on his face in his haste to try and sit straight. that’s him and daniel ( oh fuck, sorry daniel… and daniel’s parents ) right there on the fucking screen—through the numbing disbelief spreading through his body, he wonders if they had to point out his height like that. he should’ve worn shoelifts. i’m going to wear shoelifts next time, sungwoon thinks, because there will, apparently, be a next time: one more performance before eliminations.

( it doesn’t feel real ).

the feeling never quite fades, not as he begins practicing and trying to pull a half decent performance together, not as he stares at the messages piling up on his phone, classmates and coworkers sending him screencaps of his form. ㅎㅎㅎ hyung you’re so short makes up the bulk of their well-wishes, and sungwoon stops answering entirely after the first few days. all empty enigma practices and gigs are put on hold, but he hangs out with daniel whenever he can. after all, in the immortal words of troy bolton, they’re all in this together.

sometimes the apology for dragging daniel into all this almost spills from his mouth, but he can’t get it past his teeth in end, not wanting to draw more attention to the situation more than they already have. instead, sungwoon does his best to hype daniel up as much as possible, believing in his bandmate more than he believes in himself. daniel has that self-effacing, easy charisma wrapped around him, and sungwoon wholeheartedly trusts he’ll blow up once he has the chance to show the judges ( and the nation ) his guitar skills.

on the other hand, dejection settles over sungwoon the more he replays the mga episode. you don’t belong there, his brain yells, the part of his brain that is completely and utterly sungwoon. squall would have choice words for him ( squall’s never felt the crawling sensation of being uncomfortable in your own skin ), but squall has choice words for everything. sungwoon wishes he could talk to someone about his doubts. but he’s not willing to prove woojin right by saying anything to him, and he can’t say anything to daniel, his champion, the one person who thinks he does belong there. in the end, there’s nothing left for him to do but swallow his fears and suck it the fuck up.

sungwoon arrives at the venue with his guitar slung over his back, hair falling over his eyes as he stares through his fringe at the other contestants passing by. a lot of them radiate confidence in spades, dressed up and ready to slay up on stage. he recognizes quite a few faces from the first episode, and several of them make him bristle involuntary; talented individuals he knows are already fan favorites. one of the few perks of having a little sister who cares about this stuff is that she keeps him updated ( she’s also in love with someone named junmyeon? which, alright, cool, sungwoon is not going to get his autograph for her ).  

swallowing, he brushes his hair back and adjusts the strap of his guitar case, trying to seem busy. it’ll be alright. he knows how to perform on stage, how to fill it with his presence and command attention. if he has to borrow from squall today, he’ll do it. sungwoon just doesn’t like the idea of leaving things halfway. even if he understands he’s a fish out of water, he’ll still do the best he possibly can—for himself, if no one else. after accepting his number ( #4048: solid, sexy ), he makes his way to where the contestants are seated, heaving a sigh of relief as he realizes he’s next to daniel. good; they could both use the moral support.

the inside of the recording studio verges on overwhelming. the stage is nice, the lighting is cool, but the cameras everywhere are disconcerting. sungwoon isn’t used to being filmed constantly like this. as one zooms in on him, he gives the camera a two fingered salute and wave before it moves on. he’s going to have to get comfortable, fast, but luckily ( or unluckily, depends on how you spin it ), he’s supposed to be one of the last people to perform. that gives him some time to go over his performance in his mind… but also more time to enjoy the rest of the performances.

and there are a lot, each one of them of high quality. the dancers capture his attention the most; it’s human nature to be envious of skills you don’t have. sungwoon nudges daniel after the first of the performances and leans over. “what if i get up on stage and—” he mimes screaming into a microphone while headbanging. “d’you think one of the judges would faint in shock?” part of him is joking, but the other part wants to get up on stage and channel squall. his persona is the safest and easiest for sungwoon, after all, and he thinks squall would shine in front of the cameras, though maybe not in front of the judges.

he settles back into watching the performances, though daniel still gets to deal with the brunt of his reactions. most of which consist of sagging against in him like a deflated car dealership noodle balloon when someone particularly good performs or sungwoon hitting him in excitement or despair depending on how he’s feeling about whoever’s up on stage. there’s one person in particular he almost topples out of his chair for, mouth forming a large ‘O’ in surprise as he sees woojin’s friend ( and the empty enigma fan! ) on stage dancing to gashina, but he doesn’t think about the potential ramifications of that just yet, choosing to instead applaud as hard as he can when the kid is done.

finally, it’s his turn. “contest #4048, ha sungwoon! please come up to the stage.” brushing his hair back one last time, sungwoon gives daniel a thumbs up and a bright grin before picking up his guitar and approaching the stage. his expression is in stark contrast to the nerves he’s experiencing inside, but he’s done this enough to know how to fake it. his apprehension will fade once he’s onstage, anyway ( he hopes ). 

standing in front of his judges, he dips into a low bow and accidentally knocks his forehead against the guitar’s neck. letting out a sheepish laugh, he rubs his forehead and quickly gives his greeting. “hello everyone! i’m your resident tiny giant, ha sungwoon.” he’s poking some fun at the whole height issue—it’s better to just embrace it, in the end. “i’ll be singing charlie puth’s ‘attention’ for you today. thank you for giving me this opportunity!”

( he also whispers a quiet ‘ha sungwoon, fighting!’ under his breath because he needs the encouragement ).

you've been runnin' round, runnin' round, runnin' round throwing that dirt all on my name 'cause you knew that i, knew that i, knew that i'd call you up baby, now that we're, now that we're, now that we're right here standing face-to-face you already know, already know, already know that you won

i know that dress is karma, perfume regret you got me thinking 'bout when you were mine and now i'm all up on ya, what you expect? but you're not coming home with me tonight

sungwoon’s initial choice had been something faster, more intense, more like the music he sang on stage night after night. his plan was to bring out his electric guitar, falling right into his comfort zone and take the judges and audience by surprise. but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed… safe. his goal during the auditions had been to prove to himself that he could sing ballads too. he wanted to showcase a different side of himself. but these auditions tempted him to fall back into old habits, the style of music he was used to. but no one got anywhere by staying in their comfort zone. this wasn’t squall’s audition anyway; it was sungwoon’s. he could leech off squall’s confidence and charisma for this performance, but he didn’t want it to be about him.

so he’d chosen an english pop song with the help of his younger sister. english was not a strength, but he’d spent hours upon hours practicing his pronunciation. it’s not perfect by a long shot, but a far cry from the country hick he expected to sound like. he sings each word with care, his fingers busy with the acoustic accompaniment. the heartbroken man is a skin he can wear easily, but there’s more than heartbreak to this song: frustration, desperation, low simmering anger tied together with repressed desire. he does his best to express that with his voice, beginning slower and gentle before building up to the climax, a more frenzied style of singing to showcase the full height of the emotions.

i know that dress is karma, perfume regret you got me thinking 'bout when you were mine and now i'm all up on ya, what you expect? but you're not coming home with me tonight

you just want attention you don't want my heart maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new yeah, you just want attention i knew from the start you're just making sure i'm never gettin' over you

there’s no awkwardness on stage here. sungwoon bares his heart as he sings, eyes shut, dividing his focus between the guitar and his vocals. a couple of his lines have a slurred quality to them on purpose; it’s a song he imagines is delivered after a couple of bottles of soju, involuntary and unhappily, with emotions running high. the equivalent of drunk-dialing an ex, if he had to say. he’d spent a lot of time to come to this conclusion too, but sungwoon believes he can’t sing a song properly unless he understands it.

it’s not the most dynamic stage, especially not when compared with those who can sing and dance at the same time, but he hopes his performance makes the audience—and the viewers—feel something nonetheless. music’s meant to entertain, but if it doesn’t mean something, what good is it anyway? he lays it all on the line here on stage; after all, he thinks it’s probably the last time he’ll get an opportunity like this and he doesn’t want to leave with regrets.

what are you doin'? hey what are you doin'? what are you doin'? what are you doin'? you just want attention i knew from the start you're just making sure i'm never gettin' over you, oh

his voice cracks slightly under the strain of emotion in the first line; technical skill means little if you can’t emote properly. it’s an anguished plea torn from his lips almost against his will, and if he didn’t have his guitar, this is the part where he’d fall on his knees with an arm outstretched. instead, he finishes with a final oh~ and steps away from the mic, eyes fluttering open. with another quick bow ( this time making sure he doesn’t injure himself ), he returns to his seat. the minute he sees daniel, his face morphs into an ugly expression one second away from crying before he remembers the cameras are still around.

either way, he doesn’t have time to dissect his performances and his mistakes. the competition rolls on, eventually bringing daniel up on stage, and sungwoon cheers so loudly he almost keels over coughing because of the strain he puts on his throat for that. but daniel deserves it and all of his encouragement. after daniel, the performances taper off into nothing, leaving sungwoon and the rest of the contestants to self-reflect about how they did. as a perfectionist, it’s tough for him to be satisfied with anything he does, but sungwoon knows he couldn’t have done more. all of them here left a part of themselves up on that stage. how can you find fault with such raw and authentic performances?

and maybe he doesn’t belong here, but sungwoon sure as fuck made himself felt. if he goes out now, he’ll do it holding his head high.

[iconicstyles]

Nanny Wanted Chap 2

Yay! Part 2 to Nanny Wanted. I have to say I’m surprised how well this has been received. Thank you so much for the love and I hope you enjoy this new part

Turns out hiring a nanny had been the best thing Harry had done in years. Not only did Grayson love having her around but Harry was able to start recording again. Over the years he had written songs for other artists, sure, but it was different writing his own music. All of his emotions were put into the songs, most of them came from his own personal experience. He had journals full of lyrics and he was ready to actually make the music he wanted to make.

Of course, his label was thrilled when he told them he was ready to record his first solo album. He went to work almost immediately. This was a good thing for his career but he soon realized it wasn’t the best with Grayson. Harry took him to school in the morning but by the time he got home late at night his son was already in bed. Every day he tried his best to get home at a decent hour but at the last minute something would come up making him stay. One night he got home right after bedtime. Bursting through the door he spotted Y/N sitting on the couch folding laundry. “I just missed it.” Harry frowned, dropping his bag with a soft thud on the floor.

Y/N nodded with a frown of her own on her face. “I’m sorry, Harry, I tried to space it out but he was so tired. He fell asleep after one story.”

“No, no, it’s my own fault. We were trying to get this song done and I just didn’t leave when I should’ve.” Falling backwards into a chair he sighed. “Some father I am.”

“Harry, don’t do that, you’re an amazing father. Grayson talks about you all the time, you’re his hero.”

“I just need to get my priorities straight.”

“To be fair, you’ve done that his entire life. I mean, you put your career on hold to be a stay at home dad. You’ve done all of this by yourself.”

The room fell silent. Harry watched on as she went about her business folding the rest of the laundry. He doesn’t remember telling her to wash his clothes but he saw a few of his shirts laying neatly on the back of the couch along with his son’s train pajamas. Before he knew it she was done and putting everything into a basket. “Hey, I have an idea, what if Grayson and I visited you at the studio tomorrow? He’s getting out of school early and I know he would love to see where his Daddy works.”

The sides of Harry’s mouth perked up into a smile. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

“Awesome, it’ll be a great surprise for him I’m sure he’s missing you as much as you’re missing him.”

“Not with you here.”

“I may be his nanny but I’m not the one that raised him. You’ve done a good job with him. He’s such a sweet kid, I have to convince him to eat his veggies though.” She told him, gathering her bag to leave for the night.

“That’s a fight I’ve had with him since he was able to eat solid food.” He chuckled. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After she left Harry went about his nighttime routine with a newfound happiness within him. He was excited for Grayson to see him work. Then thoughts of his son being backstage when he performed filled his head. He could imagine looking sidestage to see Grayson cheering his Daddy on with Y/N standing right beside him. Harry really did feel like she came into his life for a reason.

The next day Harry woke Grayson up as usual. He didn’t let on that anything was going to happen that afternoon. After dropping him off at preschool Harry headed straight to the studio. He had began working with a brand new band when he first started recording and in a matter of weeks they had become some of his best friends. They all liked the same kind of music, writing sessions came easy, and before he knew it they had five songs written and ready to record. The process was one he was used to but now it was his own music. “If I fuck this up it’s all on me.” He told his producer.

Hours passed but with each minute Harry was anxiously waiting for Y/N and Grayson to arrive. He had told everyone they were visiting which brought a newfound excitement. Harry constantly talked about his son. He would show pictures of Grayson on his phone, this whole album was for his child. He couldn’t wait for Grayson to hear some of his music. “Harry, I think they’re here.” He heard someone announce.

Excusing himself from the room he walked outside to be greeted by his mini-me running towards him. “Daddy!” Grayson exclaimed.

“Hey, buddy! How was school?” Harry asked, picking up the excited boy.

“Great, I drew you something.” He grinned, holding out the sheet of paper. “See, you’re singing! And there’s me with Grandma and Gemma and nanny Y/N.”

“Looks amazing, Bug, I think I’m going to put it on the fridge in our kitchen. That way when I’m here at the studio I can see it.”

“And think of me?”

“Exactly.” Harry smiled, leaning over to kiss Grayson’s cheek.

It was then Harry spotted Y/N walking towards them. “When I told him where we were going I don’t think a brick wall could have stopped him.” She laughed. “Did you show him your picture, Gray?”

“Yeah! He said he’s going to hang it on the fridge.”

“Come on, I’ll give you two the grand tour.” Harry said, placing Grayson on the ground to lead them back inside.

Grayson wasn’t too interested in the tour until Harry showed him all the instruments. In no time he was running towards the drums. Harry hung back watching as Grayson took in everything around him with a look of amazement on his face. Hearing footsteps coming up behind him he turned to see Y/N walking into the room. “This was a good idea, thank you.” He whispered.

“No problem at all, like I said I could tell he missed you just as much as you missed him.” She smiled. “Looks like he’s got a bit of music bug like his daddy.”

Harry glanced over at his drummer, Sarah, showing Grayson the drums. She had given him a pair of sticks to let him hit the snare a few times, encouraging a beat the four year old could follow. “He’s a natural!” Harry grinned.

“Daddy, which one is yours?” Grayson asked pointing to the guitars.

This gave Harry the perfect opportunity to start explaining everything to his son. He loved the way Grayson’s eyes would twinkle whenever someone would play an instrument. After a while though one of his producers said they needed to get some work done. “We just gotta finish up this one song then we’ll be done for the day.”

“Daddy can I listen?” Grayson questioned.

“Of course, come with me,” Harry directed Grayson and Y/N to where his producer sat behind a large window. “There’s a couch you two can sit on and watch the magic happen.”

Gently taking Grayson’s hand in hers Y/N leads him back to where Harry instructed. Harry watched on through the window, seeing Y/N sit on the couch and Grayson climb onto her lap to be able to watch his father. With wide eyes and a smile on his face he listened closely as Harry began singing. They had been working on a ballad, one that Harry had written when Grayson was born. He had been holding onto it for this long, he couldn’t bring himself to give it to another artist. It held so much emotion for him he couldn’t imagine anyone else singing it but him.

Like any other four year old listening to his father sing the same part over and over could only hold his attention for so long. Half an hour into the recording session Grayson was getting antsy. Luckily Y/N was prepared. Pulling out a drawing pad and crayons she instructed him to draw a new picture. “Let’s give your daddy a collection of pictures to keep with him here at the studio.” She told him.

It didn’t take much convincing. One of Grayson’s favorite things to do was draw. His teacher constantly told Harry how creative the boy was. “You have a artist on your hands.” Was always said.

“I hope so, I have one of the best decorated refrigerators in England.” Harry jokes which is the truth, whenever Grayson would bring him a new picture he would have to find a space for it on the fridge.

Y/N sat beside Grayson as he drew a new picture, giving him her opinion when he would ask for it. “I think blue is  fine hair color,” She smiled when Grayson was trying to decide what color to give the character in front of him.

“Not blue!” He giggled. “Daddy doesn’t have blue hair.”

Harry walked into the room to hear his son giggling, one of his favorite sounds in the world. “Well what’s going on in here?”

“Nanny Y/N said I should give you blue hair!” Grayson exclaimed.

“Did she? Now does she think I need to dye my hair blue or something? Is that it?”

Y/N laughed. “Hey, you never know, maybe Smurf would be a good look for you.”

“I don’t think I could ever pull off a color like that,” Harry chuckled. “You ready to go, Bug? It’s getting late and we still need to get you fed and in the bath before bedtime.”

Grayson grumbled but agreed, helping Y/N as she began to clean up his crayons. “We can finish your picture tomorrow, ok?” She asked earning a nod from the boy.

It was later than Harry originally planned. Instead of cooking dinner that night he decided pizza would be a good enough meal for the night. Grayson had no problem with that idea but frowned when Harry said he would need to eat his veggies the next day. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Harry questioned Y/N?

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother, I should probably head home.”

“Nonsense, you could never be a bother,” Harry said.

There was no point in arguing. They drove to a local pizza shop where Harry ordered their food to go. After picking up their pizza they head back home. By the time dinner was served Grayson was basically sleeping standing up. “Poor thing, knackered aren’t ya?” Harry whispered picking up his son from his car seat.

They were able to coax Grayson just enough to eat one piece of pizza before Harry was carrying him off to bed. When he came back into the living room he noticed Y/N cleaning up whatever had been thrown around the room that day, whether it be toys or clothes. “Oh, love, don’t worry about that.” He said.

“I don’t mind, I don’t want you waking up to a dirty house,” She shrugged, dropping the clothes into a spare laundry basket.

“Well at least come eat, looks like it’s up to us to finish this.” He chuckled pulling out a seat for her.

Y/N nodded. “Like I would ever give up the chance to eat pizza.”

After grabbing them both a water bottle from the fridge Harry joined her at the table. “So how are you liking the job? I’m not putting you out am I?”

“Of course not, it’s the best nanny job I’ve had.” She explained, wiping her mouth. “Grayson is the best, I can’t believe you done so well by yourself.” She wanted to slap herself as soon as the words left her mouth. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean it like that.”

Harry waved her off. “Don’t worry, I honestly can’t believe I’ve raised him by myself either. I had a lot of help but for the most part it’s just been me and him.”

Y/N has had a question in mind ever since she started the job. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking but...what happened to Grayson’s mom?”

Harry should have expected this. She was around his son, she saw it was his just the two of them, of course she would want to know about Grayson’s mother. Taking a deep breath Harry processed his answer. “When Grayson was born his mother and I weren’t together. We weren’t going to try to be together, that had been clear for the both of us. After he was born he went home with her and I just kind of took whatever I could get. Then she just decided she wasn’t ready to be a mother.”

Y/N’s mouth opened in shock. “She just gave him up?”

Harry nodded. “I can’t believe it either. One night she calls me crying and saying she just couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t about to let her give up my son to some stranger so I got full custody. Technically she still has her parental rights because I never thought to have them terminated but we had an agreement. I take care of Grayson and she leaves to never come back. You probably think that’s heatless.”

He almost jumped when he felt her smaller hand rest on his forearm. “I don’t, any mother that can just walk away from a child like Grayson doesn’t deserve him.”

“Well you’re amazing with him. You would think you’ve raised your own children.”

“No, just my younger siblings. I was the oldest to three younger brothers. There were so many wrestling matches and near heart attacks with three boys in the house.”

“You miss them?”

Y/N’s smile faltered. “I do...one of my brothers, the youngest, passed away shortly after I moved here.”

Harry wanted to crawl underneath the table. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, you didn’t know. It’s ok, a drunk driver hit him one night when he was leaving work. The cops said it was quick, he didn’t suffer but...it was still my little brother. Nothing bad is supposed to happen when you’re that young.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. Harry wanted to comfort her but didn’t want to push his boundaries. Finally he just whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile. “It’s ok, you gotta keep going. I just wished I was home when it happened. That was a phone call you could never prepare yourself for.”

Harry couldn’t imagine. He had an older sister, if anything were to ever happen to her he didn’t know what he would do. How his mother would go on. “How are your parents?”

“They’re ok, they have each other luckily. And my other brothers are close by. Aiden, we’re the closest in age, he and his wife just had their first baby. A little girl, she’s precious.” Y/N explained, pulling out her phone to show him a picture of her niece.

This was a side of her Harry loved to see. She had such a happy, carefree presence about her he would have never been able to guess she had been through such heartache. For the next half hour she told him stories about her hometown, showed him pictures of her family. Photos of herself in college attending football games, a group picture of her and all her brothers on Halloween when they all decided to be the Power Rangers. “Aiden and I argued for days about who was going to be the red ranger.” She laughed. “He won, obviously.”

“Well you make a great pink ranger.” He smiled.

“I think so too.” She giggled. It was then she noticed the time. “Shoot, I’m sorry, it’s almost nine o’clock, I need to go before I miss the last train.”

“Love, you don’t have to leave now. It’s late and you shouldn’t be at the train station by yourself.”

Y/N thought about it for a second before agreeing. “You’re right, I guess I can call Bradley.”

“Who’s Bradley?”

“Oh, my boyfriend,” She said not noticing Harry’s eyes widen slightly. “We live together, he’s probably wondering where I am.”

It had been the first time he had ever heard of her having a boyfriend. He was a little surprised. He listened on as she dialed a number on her phone. A nagging sour feeling settled in his stomach but he chose to ignore it. As much as he may have liked Y/N she was his nanny, nothing more. “He’s on his way, sorry to be here so late. You must be ready to get rid of me and get some sleep.” She said snapping Harry from his thoughts.

“No, not at all, I quite enjoy the company honestly.”

Y/N smiled at him again. “I enjoy your company too. I haven’t talked about...I haven’t talked about my brother in so long.”

“Well anytime you want to talk I’m here,” He said. “I know I’m your boss but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.”

“I appreciate that, Harry.”

Harry stayed up with her until Bradley arrived to pick her up. He had to let him in the gate but then was a little irritated when her boyfriend didn’t offer to walk up to the door. Y/N didn’t seem to mind though. She just said goodbye and that she would be back bright and early the next day. After she was gone it was like the house lost a little bit of light. Even after Harry went to bed it was like something was missing. He tried his best to push those thoughts away. This was his son’s nanny after all.

The next morning Harry was awoken by Grayson jumping onto his bed. “Woah, bug, someone’s up early.” Harry yawned.

“That’s because it’s Halloween! I get to dress up for school!”

“Oh right, and what are you going to be? Hmm…” Tapping his finger on his chin he pretended to think. “Oh right, you’re going to be a tree aren’t you?”

“No, Daddy! I’m gonna be Spider-Man!” Grayson giggled.

Gathering his son into his arms Harry laughed. “Right, what was I thinking? You’ve had your costume picked out since June.”

“Come on, daddy, I want cereal!”

With that they were up for the day. Harry poured them both a bowl of Cheerios and listened to Grayson talk about their Halloween walk at school. “They’re gonna let us walk through the halls and get candy!”

“Really? Well don’t eat too much, we’re going trick or treating later tonight.”

“Will Nanny Y/N come?” He asked, clear excitement in his voice.

“I’ll ask her when she gets here, all right?”

Once he ate his breakfast Harry directed Grayson into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. “About time for a haircut, bug.” He told his son as he tried his best to tame the curls much like his own.

“But I want to grow it long like your’s was.” Grayson frowned.

As much as Harry would love the idea of watching Grayson’s hair grow that long he knew his son wouldn’t have the patience for it. The boy had enough knots and tangles in his hair as it was, any longer would surely be a nightmare. When he finally got the boy’s hair under control they went to gather his stuff for school. “All right, Spider-Man, let’s get dressed.”

Grayson had been looking forward to Halloween for weeks. Ever since they bought the costume he had been pestering his father to let him wear it. “I won’t get it dirty! I promise!”

Now it was finally time for him to wear it. “Now no wearing your mask in class, all right? You still need to pay attention when teacher is talking, ok?”

“Yes, daddy.” Grayson muffled voice said through the mask.

“All right, grab your bucket, let’s get going.”

With a bounce in his step they walked out to Harry’s Range Rover. It was a short ride to school. When they got closer Harry smiled seeing all the other’s kid’s costumes. A bunch of Disney princesses, a lion, and then the occasional vampire and witch. “Have a good day, bug.” He told Grayson as an attendant came to help him out of the car.

“I will! Don’t forget to ask Nanny Y/N about trick or treating!”

“I won’t, love you.”

“Love you too!”

Harry stayed parked until his son was safely inside the school. After watching the door shut he drove off back towards home. Even though Harry was excited for Halloween he wasn’t looking forward to trick or treating. It was always stressful because of who he was. One reason Harry gave up his career was because he wanted his son to have a normal childhood. No photographers, no pictures of him in the magazines, he wanted Grayson to be a normal kid. Unfortunately there things out of his control. He remembered the first time he ever set foot outside with his newborn. The paparazzi were relentless in their efforts to get the first picture of his baby. When they finally got one the internet went crazy. Then somehow it got out that he was raising Grayson alone that caused even more rumors.

It bothered him. The fact that people knew who he his son was, where he went to school, it terrified him that something could happen out of his control. “I know you want to protect him but you can’t protect him from everything.” Anne had told him when some rag published pictures of Harry taking Grayson to school.

“It’s not fair, I asked for this life but he didn’t.” Harry mumbled.

“I know, love, but you can’t keep him hidden forever.”

Even though Harry wanted to homeschool Grayson after the paparazzi crashed the first day of school he knew he couldn’t do that. If he wanted his son to be a normal kid then the first step was a normal school. There still was the question if Harry started touring again just what would they do but they would cross that bridge when they got there.

When Harry got home Y/N hadn’t arrived yet giving Harry a little time to get his things sorted. He usually dressed up along with Grayson when they went trick or treating but he hadn’t thought of a costume yet. He wanted something that would somehow disguise him just in case they did run into photographers or fans. He must have hit a creative block because no costume ideas came to mind. After vetoing several ideas he heard the front door open. “Hello?” He heard a soft voice call.

Peaking around the corner he noticed Y/N walk through carrying a bigger bag, no doubt he own costume. “Hey, I didn’t expect you to still be here.” She smiled when she saw Harry.

“Decided to stay home today, they didn’t really need me at the studio.” He explained. “I’ve been trying to think of a costume for tonight.”

“Oh gosh, you waited til the last minute too? I got home last night thinking I ran out of time to find a good costume.”

“Well did you think of something? Maybe you can help me come up with something.”

“Honestly, I found a plaid shirt and decided I could be a scarecrow.” She laughed pulling out a shirt. “If you like I could do your makeup to make you look like a skeleton. Kind of generic but at least it’s something.”

“That will work, thank you, would you like some coffee?”

“I would love some, thank you.”

Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet Harry asked. “So was Bradley mad last night about having to get you?”

“No, not really, he had to get up early this morning but he didn’t say anything.”

Even though it was none of his business Harry found himself curious about her relationship. “So...how long have you two been together?”

“About a year, we were friends with the same people and kept running into each other. Then one day we kind of just hit it off. He works in construction.”

“Oh, that must be a good job.”

“It is, he’s gone a lot though. He travels all over.”

She didn’t really offer anything further about him so Harry dropped the subject. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It was just a nagging feeling of jealousy inside which he had no right to. If Y/N was happy then that was all that mattered.

After a cup of coffee Harry retreated into his office to listen to some demos his producer had sent over. He needed to approve of what all he liked and also narrow down which songs he wanted to record. Over the past four years he had written plenty of songs but he wouldn’t be able to put them all on an album. It was going to be a chore figuring out which ones would be good enough for his first solo album.

Around lunchtime Y/N crept inside with a tray of food for him. “I thought you may like some lunch.”

“Oh, sure, thank you.” He mumbled not looking up from his computer.

“Would you like me to pick up Grayson so you can continue working?”

That question brought Harry out of his trance. Checking the clock he groaned. “Shit, I didn’t even realize what time it was. I have to pick him up in an hour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it. You just finish up here.”

“Ok, thank you, Y/N.”

“No problem, I should probably get going though, the traffic will be awful. I’ll see you when we get back.”

Nodding once Harry watched on as she left the room. It was times like this he was grateful to have a nanny. When he found himself focused on work he needed to stay concentrated to be able to finish it which was difficult with a four year old running around. It would be especially hard today because he knew his son would be on a sugar high. While he was finishing up the song he received an email from his manager. It was basically an overview of what they had planned for his album. It would start with his first single then radio interviews, his first live performances, and then a tour if Harry felt up for it. Just seeing the words sent panic through him. How was he going to explain this to Grayson? How would he be able to leave him for weeks on end? After reading that email Harry had to turn his computer off. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

He decided to fix Grayson a snack to eat for when he got home. The boy would need something in his stomach other than candy before they headed out later that night. As he was looking through the fridge he heard his phone ring. “Hey mum,” He greeted.

“Hello, love, I was just calling asking if you would mind if I came along with you and Grayson trick or treating.”

“Of course not, I’m sure he would love that. You have a costume?”

“I’m sure I can find something. So how is this nanny doing? You haven’t said anything about her.”

“She’s great, she went to pick him up from school.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Y/N, she’s from America, she’s great with him. She does work around the house without me even telling her to.”

“Well sounds like she was a great hire. You seem quite taken with her.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t even go there, mum.”

“What?! I didn’t say anything.”

“I know where you were headed with that sentence and don’t even think about it.”

Ever since Vanessa Harry had all but given up dating. He became a full time dad and didn’t have the time or energy for dating. “All right, all right, I won’t say anything. I’ll see you later, love.”

“Bye, mum.”

As soon as he hung up the phone he heard the door open. “Daddy!” Grayson cried running full speed into his father’s legs.

“Woah, hey, bud!” Harry exclaimed bending over to pick him up. “How was school?”

“It was great! Me and my friends were like the Avengers! Then we got a bunch of candy.”

Over his head Harry spotted Y/N carrying Grayson’s backpack and Halloween bag. “Yeah, you should see his loot.” She laughed holding up the bag.

“Well I have news, grandma is gonna go trick or treating with us tonight.” Harry told his overly excited son.

“Yay! And Nanny Y/N said she’s going too! It’s gonna be so much fun!” Grayson smiled.

“All right, you little candy monster, how about you sit down and eat your snack. We’ll be lucky if you lay down long enough to take a nap.” Harry chuckled placing his son at the table.

Grayson grumbled but obeyed his father. Sitting down at the table still wearing his costume he ate what was in front of him, even though it was fruit. “Daddy says bananas are the best fruit.” He told Y/N.

“Well I think I would agree with your father on that one, even though strawberries rank pretty high up there.” Y/N laughed.

“Still no match for the banana though.” Harry argued.

Even though it took some coaxing they were able to get Grayson down for a nap. “And then when you wake up it’ll be time for us to go trick or treating.” Harry had told him as he covered him up.

Harry stood close by to make sure Grayson was fully asleep before leaving the room. He spotted Y/N in the kitchen pouring Grayson’s candy bag into a Halloween bowl. “I found this at the store and thought you and Grayson may like it.” She smiled

“Yeah, I kind of failed when it came to Halloween decorations this year. We didn’t even have time to visit the pumpkin patch.”

“Well that just means you have to go big at Christmas.”

“I usually do, we get the biggest tree, Grayson puts all the ornaments on the bottom because that’s all he can reach,” He laughed. “I usually fix it after he goes to bed. Then we try to watch a Christmas movie a night.”

“I like that tradition.”

“Do you go home for Christmas?”

“I didn’t last year, I spent it with Bradley’s family in London. It was the first time I had met him, I was a nervous wreck.”

“Did you like them?” Harry asked.

“They were nice, they weren’t really into the holidays though. It just seemed like they were ready to get them over with.”

“Well that’s no fun.”

“No, especially when I’m so used to my family. My mom loved to decorate the house for Christmas. She collected Santa’s, our tree had so many Santa ornaments, Santa pictures she would put on the walls replacing our normal ones, our stockings had Santa’s on them. My brother, Colin would say it looked like Christmas threw up in our house.”

Harry laughed but he liked the sound of her holidays back home. It sounded like what he wished for his home. He liked to have a lot of decorations both on the inside and the outside. “That sounds pretty nice though.”

“Yeah, it was, they didn’t really decorate after Davis died but they’re slowly getting back into it.”

Harry noticed the sadness that flashed in her eyes but noticed how she tried to cover it up. He felt bad because it seemed like she tried her best to stay strong and not really process what had happened. “Well if you would like to go home for the holidays just tell me. You don’t need my permission but I would tell Grayson where you’re going.”

“Thank you, Harry, I believe we are this year since we spent Christmas with Bradley’s family last year.”

“Then I’ll be sure to give you a present before you leave.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to get me anything. You’ve already given me a job, that’s more than enough.”

“Well you’ve help more than you could imagine.” He smiled. “So you think you better do my makeup before he wakes up?”

“Yeah, we better, as soon as he’s up he’ll be ready to head out.”

With Harry sitting on a chair Y/N stood in between his knees to get close enough to his face. She started with the outline of a skull and began filling it in with white. Once the white paint was dry she went in with the black covering up any bits of skin that showed. The final step was drawing some lines over his lips. “You are absolutely spooky now.” She said stepping away to observe her work.

Handing him a mirror he was able to take a good look at his reflection. She had done a great job. “Nicely done, thanks.”

“No problem.” She beamed as the door opened.

“Hello,” Anne greeted, a witch’s hat on her head and wearing a long black dress. “I’m ready for some candy. Where is my little lovebug?”

“He’s taking a nap, he should be up any minute though.” Harry explained.

Like clockwork Grayson came bounding down the hallway. “Grandma!” He cried.

“Hello there, my love, how are you?” She asked picking him up. “You ready to go trick or treating?”

“Yeah!”

“Well just wait a few minutes, Y/N and I need to change.” Harry announced. “Plus I want pictures of all of us in our costumes.”

Harry went into his own room while Y/N headed to the bathroom. Harry ended up just wearing a black sweater and black jeans to go along with his black and white makeup. As he went back into the living room he noticed Anne helping Grayson put on his mask and shoes. “Ready, Daddy!”

“I see that, be still a second.” Harry instructed holding up his phone to snap a few pictures of Grayson and his grandma.

Five minutes later Y/N walked in wearing her plaid shirt and lines painted on her face giving her the illusion of stitches. “Ready.” She announced.

“Hang on, you get over there so I can take a picture of all of you.”

Several pictures later they were finally off. The good thing about Harry’s house was it was close enough to some upper scale neighborhoods. Every year the houses were decorated for Halloween, tables were set out for giving out candy, and no one cared about Harry’s status. For the most part he was able to walk around with Grayson without anyone bothering them.

When they arrived there were already children running from house to house gathering candy. There were even some teenagers out and about enjoying the evening. Harry parked down the street and then they were off. Holding Grayson’s hand they went to the first house with Y/N and Anne following close behind. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.” Anne sighed. “I’m Anne, Harry’s mother.”

Y/N held the older woman’s hand in her own giving it a small shake. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you. Grayson talks about you and Gemma all the time.”

“Precious thing, he is. I’m glad you’re around now, I can see how much it’s helped Harry.”

“I’m glad to help.” Y/N smiled as Grayson ran up the steps to the first house.

An hour later they had covered pretty much the entire neighborhood. They were getting ready to leave when Harry noticed the first flash. “Shit.” He mumbled when a second one followed.

Gripping Grayson’s hand tighter Harry counted them. Around nine in total but he spotted more cars across the street coming to a park rather quickly. “Y/N, take Grayson.” He instructed.

He heard his son whimper which angered Harry. Were these idiots really going to ruin a child’s Halloween just for some pictures? Y/N picked up Grayson without question and waited for Harry to say something. “Just stay behind me and mum, ok? Keep your head down until we get to the car, ok?”

Y/N nodded, running one of her hands over Grayson’s back trying her best to comfort him. Anne took her spot at Harry’s side hiding Y/N and Grayson as they began walking. The flashes increased almost blinding him as he pushed through the crowd. “Excuse me, please.” He told them, his voice harsher than usual.

They weren’t going to let them pass without getting a shot. The clicks continued even more. Some tried to take a picture from above. Harry held an arm out preventing them from getting closer to Y/N and Grayson. Turning his head he noticed Grayson had buried his face in Y/N’s neck and she was speaking to him in a soft voice only he could hear. It warmed his heart but he had to focus on getting them to the car safely. When they finally reached it he took his son from her arms so he could strap him in his seat. Even while he was strapping him in the flashes continued making Harry’s blood boil. Once Grayson was buckled in Harry almost slammed the door to prevent anything else. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do on Halloween?” He hissed.

Walking around to the driver’s side he cranked the car and sped off not caring if he ran any of the photographers over. Looking in the rearview mirror he watched as Y/N continued to talk to Grayson. She talked to him about anything she could to keep his mind off of what just happened. “Did you know I used to collect comic books? I’m sure I have plenty of Spider-Man in my collection.”

“Really? Could you show me?” Grayson asked.

“Of course, I’ll just have to find them.”

Harry glanced over and his mom who had also noticed the conversation going on in the backseat. She had a small smile on her face as she listened on. Harry was just happy his son didn’t appear to be in any distress. It had been the first time in a while paparazzi had caused that kind of scene. “We’re home.” He announced.

While Y/N changed Grayson into his pajamas Harry and Anne began to cook a quick dinner. “She sure is a good one.” Anne whispered.

“She is,” Harry agreed.

Anne wanted to say more but decided against it. Of course she wanted the best for her son and grandson and she believed they had found it in their new nanny. She would just have to wait and see what the future held.

Later on Anne left to head back home after they put Grayson to bed. Y/N stayed behind to help wash dishes while Harry dried. “Sorry about the way the night ended.” Harry apologized.

Y/N glanced at him. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I just can’t believe you’ve had to deal with that for this long.”

“Did they say anything to you?” If anything was said to her that Harry deemed out of line he was more than prepared to get in contact with his lawyer or anyone to get it taken care of. Go after him but leave her and his family out of it.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s over. I think I’m just ready to head home, take a nice hot bath, and get into bed.” She sighed as she let the water drain from the sink.

Harry agreed with that idea. “Thank you for coming out with us tonight. Even if it didn’t end like I wanted it to.”

“I had fun. I’ve always loved Halloween, I won’t let anyone ever ruin that.”

“I’m glad...so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” She grinned as she gathered her stuff.

It had been the first time she ever had to deal with parts of Harry being famous. It was terrifying but it also upset her that Harry had to deal with it. He was such a normal guy it was easy to forget just who he was. She just hoped she would be ready to deal with everything else that came along with knowing Harry Styles.

[iameverything]

A Conversation: Bedhead

“Bedhead is a dreamy Indie synth-pop musician that hails from Toronto Canada.”

First off, who are you? Hello! I’m Veronica, but you probably know me better as Bedhead! I like all things art. Music, painting, photography, drawing, etc... I like to do it all! I’ve been singing since before I could even talk, and a musician for almost my entire life.

Tell me about your journey and how it all led to the career and name that is Bedhead? Aside from music, my background is actually in multimedia and communications. But after graduating, I was really miserable doing the whole 9-5 corporate thing found myself missing creative outlets in my work. I started a job hosting art parties which I loved, but that made me realize that I really missed actually performing in front of people. At this point I was working on a music project with a friend, but that never saw the light of day. I realized that I wanted to pursue music, I had this vision of what I wanted to do, and no one was going to make that happen but myself. All these things were sort of like little streams leading to a bigger river, and that’s how Bedhead was born!

I liked the name Bedhead for a number of reasons. The main reason is that it represents leaving a place of safety like your bed but still showing up anyway. It takes a lot of strength to do that. When I started writing music, I was going through depression. Anyone who has experienced this knows that some days getting out of bed is the most difficult chore. But getting up despite your struggles, maybe not totally together or perfect but still trying, shows incredible resilience. Aside from that, I’m a pretty active dreamer (sometimes I wrote songs in my sleep!) and I also get a lot of compliments on my curly hair so it pays tribute to that a little too haha.

Do you or have you ever had any affiliation with the 1998 Texas rock band Bedhead?  STORY TIME! As you can tell above, I put a lot of thought into names… sometimes too much. I kid you not, it took me about a year to pick Bedhead, and I had more than 20 potential names for this project in the SHORT list. Any artist knows as soon as you think of a name you like, look it up. When I looked up Bedhead, I found this Texas rock band that broke up over 20 years ago and my family and friends thought it was perfectly fine to use the name. Just in case, I found their website (which looked like it hadn’t been changed since ‘98) and sent off an email, I had no idea if it was still active or anything. The name at this point meant so much to me, it really represented everything I wanted this project to be, and no other name I had thought of came close to it. I didn’t hear back for a while and told myself, if this name is meant to be, they will respond, and either way I will be okay. One of the members responded the next day! Gave me his blessing AND the website. I believe most of the members are now in Atlanta, I would love to meet them someday.

Let’s talk your recent single Fight No More, I must say, it is so damn good and the video is fantastic. If your fans could take any message from the new single, what would you want it be? Wowow thank you so much! The message to its barest bones is that you don’t have to take crap from anyone, even yourself. When I was going through depression, I eventually hit this wall where instead of getting sad, something snapped, and I realized I didn’t have to a prisoner to my own mind anymore. I wanted the song to come from a point of view of dealing with another person, like “If my depression were a friend who I knew was no longer good for me and my well being, what would I say to them?”

Like I mentioned the music video is fantastic, the color in it is great. Where did the idea for the music video come from? Who shot it? Since the song is written from the perspective of two people but really about an inner battle, I sorta envisioned myself fighting myself. Like trying to take back control of your life from your own demons. I had that brief plot outline when I pitched the idea to the director, Jacq Andrade, but that was about it. She immediately understood what I was going for, and we had a great brainstorming session. We both love colour, and wanted the visuals to be eye-catching. The result was the beautiful trip inside the psyche that is this music video. She’s a total visionary, and I’m so happy we brought to life.

Your first single you put out that made everyone first take notices was Bitter, a favourite of mine; With two singles out of the bag, do you already have an idea for an album coming up? How is the process been going for that anyway? Yes! Bitter and Fight No More are both going to be on an upcoming EP coming this year! The idea for the EP has been brewing for quite some time now, so I’m excited to finally share what I’ve been up to since last year. It’s been an awesome journey getting to this point, a lot of self discovery and inner reflection, trying different ideas and sounds to find what works best with the vision.

What is your thoughts on labels wanting to give "makeovers" to new artists they sign? I try to stay open to change while still being faithful to myself. I mean even how I write music changes all the time!  We’re constantly exposed to new experiences, people, places, etc. and I try to stay open to how they might inspire my music. When we close ourselves off to new or different ideas because they don’t fit what we’re “trying to do” we limit our creativity. Even if I don’t know what the change will bring or where it’ll take my sound, I think as artists it’s how we grow.  

What sort of things/artists/ideas inspire you these days to create the music that you do, in the style you do? I am always inspired by nature, usually more in my photography, but lately it has been creeping into my music too! There’s a song on this EP about that...

When can fans look forward to Bedheads next show and what can they expect? We’re currently in the process of tweaking the live setup, we have drums now!! We’ve been in winter hibernation practicing, making some visuals, getting everything ready so we’ll be ready to rock for some late winter/ early spring shows. Stay tuned!

Rapid fire: If you were not called Bedhead what else would you want to be called? Dang, I deleted that list of names! I remember liking V a lot. Favorite venue to play in? Might be too early to call, but my first show at Ildsjel Collective will always have a special place in my heart <3 Favorite current underrated artist/band? Does underrated mean I think more people should know about them?! If so, I’ve been listening to an artist called Malory! Favorite current song that isn't your own? It Might Be Time - Tame Impala Secret to a great song? It’s gotta be great with just piano/guitar and voice.

[orindasfinest]

TDFL PR W#3

To admit to a thing that everyone already knows like Bill Clinton will someday when the antifa firing squad has him wetting his senile pants at gunpoint stammering about how Epstein was onto something with the tightness of 15-year-old box: yes, I missed last week. I shockingly have a girlfriend AND aspirations of being something other than a water babysitter for the rest of my life and the two combined to stop me from shitposting about fantasy football. I have now concluded with my significant other and with my job applications, filling both with rich cum, and will thereby turn my attention to the band of misfits I decided to assemble in hopes of winning a fantasy league for once in my fucking life, which in this instance would basically be like beating ‘Through the Fire and the Flames’ on Guitar Hero in easy difficulty. At least the Eagles officially suck so nobody can feel good about real-life accomplishments except for me and my lovable group of New Englanders who use HGH as lube when waxing their shaven carrots to lithographs of Jock Sutherland’s single-wing play designs. That is a real reference and I am so gratified that I got to waste seconds of your life making you try and process such a string of words – much like you will continue to do if you keep reading! Let’s begin.

10. Leaguema Balls (Mike)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 305.1 | PA: 425.3 | Streak: L3 | Last Week (I actually wrote out a rankings but then just never added the roasts, so they were worthless, but trust me) 10

Plays Next: Sean’s Hard Mangos (Sean)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Continuing to draw breath

It’s comforting to know that I can leave my sweet foundling rankings alone for a week and still have the unmoving anchor way at the bottom to keep it grounded and sturdy. You would have thought that assembling a competent fantasy football roster was Rogaine given Michael’s lack of familiarity with the concept. If you want, Dirt, you can think up an AIM away message to leave in this slot to save me the work for the next 13 weeks and so this entry has some consistency besides sucking more than spilling soup down your shirt in a meeting. (I know that wasn’t you but this guy deserves some of your grilling space.) Marquise Brown is going to blow out a lung trying to run under Lamar’s 102-yard touch passes on Sunday and turn back into Steve Breaston with a dumber nickname.

9. Sean’s Hard Mangos (Sean)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 374.4 | PA: 401.2 | Streak: L3 | Last Week: 8

Plays Next: Oh dear christ not my repeaters again

Questionable Decision of the Week: Dick amputation by tendon fatigue

Just as I take solace in Mike’s cellar-dwelling ways, I can relax about the other two Philly league members having decent squads just by looking at Sean’s merry band of sap-sucking stupidheads. You’d find more consistent direction from Sean behind the wheel of a car than you would from a team led by Derrick Henry and James Conner. And here I thought you were done with uninterested, underperforming ball-grabbers when you broke up with Hannah. Word of advice, dawg! You’re gonna get your first win this week because the algorithm isn’t yet advanced enough to throw up in both of your faces instead of assigning a victor between you and Michael, so act like you’ve been there before, or at least act like you know how to run a palatable social media account after three fucking years of trying and failing.

8. James White is Right (Tori)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 372.7 | PA: 439.7 | Streak: L3 | Last Week: 9

Plays Next: Cartoon Colt Copulation (Hahahahaha)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Acting like her dirt star is the brightest light in the sky when in reality it’s Proxima Centauri from Event Horizon

Much like capitalism, the league has created a placated and clueless middle class, consolidated wealth in the top 1%, and left the lower half of the populace to shiver and die like Austin Ekeler on the sidelines now that Melvin Gordon is back. Of course, knowing Tori’s family, they’d just bray about how the economy is thunderously good before unironically sharing deep-fried boomer memes while she gently chides them through comments, pretending there’s not a little racist in her team name. And in her soul. James White is back, though, having just watched his wife give birth, knowing that whole time that the tearing and screeching he was witnessing would pale in comparison to Tori trying to fit a toothpick up her half-thimble rear entrance.

7. Mark Ruffalo’s Ruffalo Bills (Aidan)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 410.5 | PA: 408.8 | Streak: L1 | Last Week: 3

Plays Next: The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Using his asshole around women and not expecting repercussions

Benefiting from a more questionable handout than the insurance settlement that gives him money for having headaches sometimes, Aidan rode high on the back of a free Mahomes the first two weeks of the season. That all came crashing down when Lauren put him in a dumpster in this past matchup, which was probably an upgrade from his place in Chicago. Aidan has a picture of the Blues Brothers’ trainside apartment on his vision board in the hopes that someday he can move somewhere that high-class. Expect further regression as Josh Jacobs and Leonard Fournette continue to suffer from some sort of Power 5 running back glaucoma which makes them barrel directly into their linemen’s asses on every handoff instead of bouncing to the acres of green space just outside the tackles. This is much like how Aidan rushes for beans on toast instead of attempting to taste flavor.

6. Airstrip One Ezekiels Engels (Derv)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 404.7 | PA: 387.8 | Streak: W2 | Last Week: 7

Plays Next: TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Fookin ‘ell ‘ard ta pick one innit luv xx

After a less auspicious start than the Easter Rebellion, Derv has rebounded from a sheer fleecing to fashion herself into something of a competent franchise owner. Knowing the strength of her impostor syndrome, though, she’s liable to swap Zeke for a scalding slap in the face *battered whisper* because that’s the type of team that she deserves. I would say this ranking of 6 will be the highest you will ever get but I think if you’re a good enough girl this year, around Thanksgiving your dad will finally put you on his shoulders so you can see the inflatable turkeys parading down the garbage metropolis a mere three hours from you upstate hovel. Otherwise it’ll be another long outing of sinking further down the standings and standing so low at 4’8 you look like you’re dissolving into a sinkhole.

5. The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 399.7 | PA: 394.3 | Streak: L1 | Last Week: 1

Plays Next: Mark Ruffalo’s Still Not a Funny Name (Aidan)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Taking dick so long it got mistaken for the amount of time she spends on the toilet

How the mighty have fallen! One minute, you look like an infallible cock destroyer, and then BANG! You get run over. But I won’t bring up your car accident too much. I’m seeing more hopeless tears from your Johnson & Johnson RB corps than from babies piteously afflicted by their cornea-searing shampoo. It’s fitting that such an intermittent contributor would have a roster full of people that basically decide whether or not they want to do a football on a play-by-play basis. “How about an out route, Amari?” “How about you sit in a room for 10 minutes with Liv’s roommate, coach?” This team could light the league on fire but it’ll settle for searing its own britches at completely unpredictable hours. Again, just like Liv.

4. The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 402.1 | PA: 391.4 | Streak: W1 | Last Week: 4

Plays Next: Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griffin)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Sending Snickers to hell. She was a good cat john.

The man with the worst opinions in the league dropped Antonio Brown for some reason even though he was clearly a kindred spirit in that regard. There’s no difference between what AB did and what John said about candy, except for the fact that I’d be more comfortable with jizz on my back than I would listening to more of his sweets-based takes. (Come to think of it, I’d just be more comfortable with jizz on my back.) As alluded to before, Melvin Gordon is returning to action, which means John can stop pretending that Miles Sanders will be any kind of valuable contributor, about 4 years and one hair-tearingly bad contract extension before the Eagles do the same. While you’re on the road with the VengaBus, Oakman, see if you can pick up a kicker who realizes that people with apostrophes in their names belong on the defensive line and who can actually put the ball through the fucking uprights.

3. Cartoon Colt Copulation (Gabe)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 422.5 | PA: 333 | Streak: W2 | Last Week: 2

Plays Next: James White is Right (Delicious)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Looking past all the signs that Lauren sabotages air travel just to spend extra time with me and trying to aim my blasts to curve around her IUD anyway

I would just like to immediately point out that my points for is second highest in the league and therefore I righteously deserve my place near the top of the rankings AND could even go for higher. I would also like to admit that I have by far the lowest points against. So even when I excel, I do it in arenas that are specifically set up for me to succeed, which feels appropriate for me as a white man. I’m swinging my dick on an unlevel playing field like Steve-O on a teeter-totter with a scorpion. Saquon’s injury is all I need to have the pinchers come rocketing towards my little glistening head and put the clamps on my high-falutin’ status. BUT FOR NOW FUCK YOU JACOBY BRISSETT IS GOD which is only right and fair in the name of equality

2. TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 426 | PA: 363 | Streak: W1 | Last Week: 6

Plays Next: Airstrip One Historical Reference Yawn (Derv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Do I really have to spell it out? After she spent a whole weekend plus in my bed? Come on, guys. Going back to Buzz City and pretending low rent is a fair tradeoff for having about as much culture as spoiled yogurt

Team Clemson had a TAMU product to thank for their banana sandwich performance in matchday number three as Mike Evans put up FORTY FIVE FUCKING BIG ONES in, of course, a losing effort for his real-life Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Scoring points but losing everything of consequence is nothing new to Lauren after her latest tussles with Catan. But the soaring to improbable heights is taking on gorgeous new wrinkles as different folks step up week after week to put up the performances of their lives, only to be invariably out of gas week nine, leaving her roster a withered, gaping husk with bitter glances back towards what once was as she tries to wring some sort of enjoyment from the remnants. Welcome to childbirth, honey!

1. Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griffin)

Record: 3-0 | PF: 396.5 | PA: 342.7 | Streak: W3 | Last Week: 5

Plays Next: The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Getting tested for STDs. Next you’re gonna tell Sean not to drunk drive. Narc

Griffin has the 4th-lowest point total out of all of us, yet he is the sole occupant of first place as of press time. The last time I saw a fatty get this much undeserved shine, my ex-girlfriend made me watch an entire episode of This Is Us. You’re rocking Mitchy Trubes at quarterback, whose play style must be similar to your lovemaking technique: going long a lot, but never looking like you have any idea what you’re doing. I am so happy about your brief stay at the top of the mountain and I hope you can brag about it at show choir or whatever. Just remember that the #1 spot in these rankings is not like having abandonment issues. You don’t need to get used to it.

[submissivelynick]

Holding Back | Blaine & Nick

Tagging: @submissiveblaineanderson & @submissivelynick Where: Sub Room 101 When: evening of Friday, May 12th Summary: The boys talk about and rehearse songs for prom.

The texts about Mateo had put a little bit of a damper on Blaine's earlier excitement, but he tried to push all that aside. Nick was his friend, and they weren't going to talk about Fight Club. He could already see where that might get a little difficult, considering that he was planning to duck off to fight club a little after eight that very evening, but - he'd handle that when they got there. "So," he said, sitting crossed-legged on his bunk, once the two of them were back in their room after glee, "Should I tell you what I think you should sing, first? Because I've really put way too much thought into it. I probably need another hobby."

Nick knew there was a high probability for awkwardness happening in his room this evening, but he was determined to try to make it as fun and relaxing and not about Doms as he could. He sat down on his desk chair and pulled his guitar out of its case, playing a few notes lightly so that he could make sure it was relatively in tune. "Go for it," he said with a smile. "I'm sure if you put that much thought into it, it'll be a great idea--and then you can totally move on to your next hobby of choice."

Blaine laughed. "All right, so... let me make my pitch, here. I think I've heard you sing more than anyone here, aside from your sister, obviously. You're not really the spotlight-stealing type, which is a good thing. But like, remember when Rachel said, 'can you even sing?'" He barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the memory. "Well - first of all, that was terrible, but second of all - I'd love to see you make a big enough impression at Prom that no one will ever, ever, ask that question again. I think you need your rockstar moment, basically."

Nick raised an eyebrow as Blaine began to speak, his fingers seeking out chords he didn't actually play while he listened. He snorted when Blaine got to Rachel's comment and nodded. "Oh, I can definitely get behind that," he said, imagining the rest of the school cheering as he got to the end of a solo--though, really, it would probably be more like a couple people in glee club who would stop dancing long enough to clap, but the sentiment would still be there. "What song are you thinking of?"

Blaine slid off the bed, heading over to grab his laptop. He assumed Nick had heard the song he was going to suggest, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. "You said you were a Shawn Mendes fan, right? So you must have heard his latest single? The one that's tearing up the charts?" He clicked play, and through the speakers, just a little faint and tinny, the staccato acoustic guitar intro to 'There's Nothing Holding Me Back' began to play. "Have you tried playing it yet? Can't you just see yourself up there with your guitar?"

Nick watched Blaine grab his laptop and nodded when he heard the suggestion. "Of course I've heard it," he said, though he still listened in silence through the first verse and chorus before speaking up again. "It's perfect." He continued listening and started trying to pluck out some of the guitar part as the song played and shook his head until he was able to get at least a the beginning of it. "I'll definitely have my work cut out for me to get this ready in a week, but Blaine, you are a genius. How awkward would it be with a pronoun change?"

Blaine grinned, bouncing a little on the soles of his feet in excitement. "Not at all, I don't think! Just swap she to he. Although I don't think I'll be changing pronouns myself... I'm sort of doing a character, most of the time, when I perform. That's where the confidence comes from. The swagger, on certain songs. Acting." He shook his head. "Never mind that, change it or don't, but talk about your rockstar moment! Talk about keeping the energy up, getting people dancing - if you pull this off, they'll go crazy for it."

Nick hummed, then sang a few of the lines softly with the shes changed to hes. "Yeah, I think you're right," he said with a big grin. "That's totally going to work, and I don't think there's any weird rhyming parts with her that'll sound weird changed to him. I don't really... get into a character at all when I perform, not usually. It's just me--but I can totally see where you're coming from, too. You don't think it'll be too forward or anything? Because I really don't want to push anyone away, or give anyone the wrong impression... not even if it means really getting people excited to dance and have fun."

Blaine tilted his head to one side. "Well... maybe that's why it's better TO be in character, a bit. It lets you be as forward as the song requires - even though you're not a forward kind of guy. 'Cause, neither am I, but I plan to act like one on stage... Also, that way, no one there thinks it's all about him." He paused. "Unless you want it to be all about someone. Then in that case..." His tone turned playful, his smile suddenly a little smirk. "Act like it isn't, at first. Work the room, get all eyes on you. Then when you get to the last couple of lines of that bridge, just lock eyes with him, and don't break eye contact until it's over. That should just about do it."

Nick bit his lip while he thought about what Blaine was saying. "I mean... I don't know," he said, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. He wasn't really ready to choose anyone out of the different Dominants he'd been seeing for the past month and a half, but he wasn't sure if making a song about one of them in particular would really be choosing someone or just doing it for the sake of the song. He knew he couldn't sing it to Mateo, not with Blaine being the one giving him advice, but he might scare Kurt off, and Jeff might get the wrong idea, and he didn't even really know what to think about AJ. "Why is life so confusing?" he asked, not realizing how strange the question sounded in the context of their conversation.

Blaine shook his head, not quite following, but getting the general idea that maybe Nick was overthinking the whole thing. "Okay, let's put a pin in that, then. Maybe it's not about any one person. Maybe it's just for you. Maybe it's about what you want to feel, one day, with the right guy - the confidence you want to have in that situation. It's about someday." He shrugged. "Or, don't even change the pronoun, make eye contact with a bunch of women. They'll just be flattered."

Nick set his guitar aside, leaning it against the wall. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, then snorted. "I mean, you're usually right. Except about Kurt and Rachel, because ew. And except when you're putting socks on doorknobs instead of just texting me." He grinned mischievously, hoping Blaine would take it as the teasing he intended. "I think I'd feel awkward singing at the women, but we'll see. I have time to figure it out, for sure. Do you know what you're doing yet?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together in a little smile. "Yeah, way to change the subject. But why would you feel awkward singing to girls? Most of them love it. And they all know you're gay, it's no big deal..." He stopped the playback on his laptop. "I don't know yet, exactly, because there are a handful of songs that I feel like someone should definitely do, and I don't know what everyone else is doing yet. I mean, like, if no one else sings 'Shut Up and Dance,' clearly I'll have to step up, right? But I actually have that one down, so there's another one that I'm working on..." Drawing in a quick little breath, he looked away. "But I worry, since people haven't really seen that side of me - you and the glee club, maybe a little? But still. And if I tell people in advance, they'll think I won't be able to pull it off."

Nick blushed and shook his head. He hadn't been trying to change the subject--except, yeah, okay, he totally had been. "I guess it would just feel disingenuous to sing to them like that? Because I'm definitely gay and definitely not looking to even invite any misunderstandings." He grinned sheepishly. "You definitely have to sing 'Shut Up and Dance.' I think you've got the best voice for it out of anyone in the group, really." He pushed himself up and crossed the tiny room to join Blaine on his bed, knocking his shoulder into the other sub's once he was there. "You're a really great singer, and I'm sure you can pull off whatever you're thinking of."

Blaine moved across the room, his energy nervous, but not for the reasons his friend thought. "Aw, Nick. It's not... so much that, even. I know I've got this. I just worry that when I tell the other glee club members what I want to do, they'll think I'm reaching. Because it's not about the voice, it's about presence..." Blaine stopped himself. Ryder had recently complimented him on having that very thing. Maybe the glee club knew him better than he thought they did. "24k Magic. Is what I was thinking of doing."

Nick recoiled a little when Blaine moved away from him, feeling like he must have done something wrong to get him to act like that. He clasped his hands together in his lap and pulled his arms in as close as they'd go to his sides. He chewed on his lower lip while Blaine talked, but he started shaking his head before he finished. "Blaine," he said, standing up and moving over to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You would be perfect for that song. Seriously. There's no way you couldn't pull that off."

Blaine was a little too in his own head. He didn't even hear what Nick had said at first. "Because I know everyone sees me as a fairly timid sub, which is what I am, most of the time, but I'm also an actor, or - I used to be - and I just know I could pull it off as well as any Dominant could. But they have no reason to think that..." It took the contact of Nick's hand on his shoulder for him to process what he was saying. "Wait, really?" Impulsively, he pulled Nick into a hug, his entire face lighting up. "Thanks, man... well, I guess you have seen me singing Bowie. But still! You really believe I can do it?"

Nick laughed as he found himself wrapped up in Blaine's arms, and he returned the gesture, squeezing him for a few seconds before pulling back just a little. "Of course I do," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to him. "You're a good singer and a good performer, Blaine. Your mark doesn't make a lick of difference about that. You know that, right? Like... you didn't suddenly lose all your talent the day you were marked as a sub, and most people are smart enough to realize that."

Blaine shook his head. "It's not just about getting marked as a sub. Before I got here, I hadn't really been onstage, other than piano recitals, in years. I know I still have it, it's just... been a while. And I haven't really proven it to everyone yet." He sighed. "And it's not going to be a career for me, or anything, like it is for Rachel and some of the others, but I might as well use to help make prom the best it can be."

Nick pulled Blaine into another hug, wishing he could make his friend see himself like Nick did. "You like performing," he stated as he pulled back from the hug, knowing that much about Blaine just from having been around him in glee club the past few weeks. "If you want it to be a career for you, I really think you can, you know? And I think you're probably not giving the rest of the club enough credit. Some people are high strung and only think about themselves, but a lot of us just really enjoy music and want the club to give the best performances we can, solos or group numbers or whatever. You should totally do 24K Magic."

Blaine sighed, regretting that he'd brought that part up again. Why did he keep doing that? No one but his brother really seemed to understand. "It's more complicated than that," he said, trying to brush it off, "and I really like piano too, so it's whatever. But thank you, for the rest of it..." He smirked. "I'm gonna need some backup singers for that, you know. And, oh, before I forget, I think you should have 'Shape of You' in your pocket, just in case the people want an encore."

Nick shook his head, his mind flashing back to one of their earliest conversations. "As long as you're happy," he said after a moment. "I've already got Shape of You down, though, so no need to worry about that--but I'm not sure I'll have time for two songs, not with how much Rachel and some of the others are going to want their chance to shine, too. You want me as a backup singer?"

Blaine shrugged, grinning. "Only if you want to be! I'm sure I can get a couple of random glee club guys but it would be more fun to do it together. And I mean... you heard the Headmaster. It's us or the ipod. I think we should have plenty of material ready. If we don't need to use it, great, but just in case." He checked the time on the laptop. "You want to work on these songs for a bit, break for dinner, then maybe get back into it? I really want to hear you sing that new one."

Nick returned Blaine's grin and chuckled a little. "I'd be happy to back you up on that," he said, patting his roommate on the shoulder. "I don't know how good I'll be, but everyone'll be focused on you and how awesome you are, so that doesn't really matter." He glanced down at the clock and nodded. "Yeah, let's get to work. I can try to sing through it with a karaoke version on Youtube, but it's gonna take me a few days to get the guitar part down. Do you wanna start with that, or with your song?"

Blaine leaned back, his smile lighting up his face. "Oh, you first, buddy. Don't worry so much about the lyics; I want to see you bring the attitude." He suspected that would be the only real challenge. Nick's vocals were always solid, his skills with a guitar even better. But if he was insistent on singing the song as 'himself,' channeling the song's easy confidence might take a few attempts. "And then we can run through mine, but the backup part is pretty self-explanatory. I might ask a couple of other guys to join in.".

Nick laughed at Blaine's instructions. "Okay, okay, I'll go first," he said, moving over to grab his laptop. "I've gotta say, I'm really excited to see you get that 24K Magic attitude going, though." He grinned at Blaine and pulled up a karaoke version of the song on Youtube, humming a little to get the key correct before he started. He pressed play and began to sing along, a little uncertain at first but gaining more confidence in what he was singing as he got to the chorus a second time--probably because he'd started picturing himself singing those words to Kurt in his head.

[amesbrisees]

★

send me a symbol for…     |    accepting

↳ ★ five times my muse thought yours looked breath-taking, and the one time they voice it

I.   He’s a perfect stranger to her as much as she’s a mystery to him. A silhouette of night time’s ubiquitous gloom, a chance encounter, the best friend they’d both ever had for a time lapse bound to come to a close much too soon. Heavenly and divine, even if only on second glance. Messy hair and bare skin, the depth of dark circles can’t be defined and they look like an odd couple on an ordinary Sunday night out. He’s clad in blood, while all she has to bring privacy its minimal limits of comfort are pieces of underwear he initially pays little attention to. He barely musters to strength to focus on looking through an opaque veil of smoke pulled shut in front of crystalline eyes, devoid of everything but the incessant tiredness and unyielding exhaustion, the endless fatigue he endures and the cruelty of an insomniac’s curse. It takes him a while to figure it out, and when he does, oh, he knows it won’t get much better than that. The moment of deep-rooted and mutually exclusive understanding, a tie that binds them for a moment or two, amidst tiles and glass and the irritating flicker of a white neon light. The ceaseless rummaging of laundry machines sets a consequent undercurrent for all noises in their surroundings, warm in the realm they claim their own for a brief encounter. Breathing and beating hearts – you could hear the flap of a butterfly’s wings in moments of blissful silence. 

She tells him that her father didn’t want her, nor did her mother. And it’s soul-crushing. So young and bitterly broken, it almost reminds him of himself. The pain behind wide eyes, the taste of heartache and tobacco against chapped lips and he knows he’s closer to a kindred spirit than he’s ever been before. Close enough he could easily reach out to her for a tender caress of her cheek and a murmured: “Some day everything will fall into place.”, but he’s no liar and bites his tongue. Close enough to cord callused fingers around her delicate neck like a tight rope a rasped: “All you have to do is jump. Only then it’ll be okay.”, but he’s not malevolent, nor a murderer. He’s too selfish to willingly crush her world further by brutality hidden inside sloppily hand-picked words. Too selfish to let go of the only thing that has felt real in the longest while. 

He asks her if she wants to get out, find a route to escape and her only response is a question. “Do you want to take me somewhere?”, and nothing has ever made more sense. And when they meet for an agreement on the upper middle ground, she tries to hide a smile, breaking through the cracks in a grin’s disguise. It’s the first time he sees how beautiful she actually is, with the apples of her cheeks full and eyes narrowed in the slightest, as if kissed by indirect sunlight. It’s the first time he sees it and he does what he always does. Lets the moment pass, slip through his fingers as his thought remains hidden in the secretive shadow of his mind. 

II.   Drunk on sleep. He’s barely awoken and unbearable tiredness keeps tugging at heavy eyelids, trying to coerce them to remain tightly shut against the burning kisses peppered through windows by the golden gleams of the afternoon’s sun. The bright rays break through the blanket of clouds concealing the sky’s impossibly blue hue. For a moment he’s lost in a hazy limbo, a trance lead by confusion and sickness and the hapless uncertainty of when it would all clear. 

Blinking with one eye shut, he squints through the blinding brightness of a natural source of light, bleeding into the dim room through a crack in the curtain. The countless variations of blots of yellow and the mossy hues in their motel room’s color scheme are so ugly they make him want to vomit. Only for as long as he buried his head in a dreamless sleep, he’s forgotten all about it. It’s a recurrent curse, coming back to haunt him when he gazes around from the sofa he lies upon, close to soft cushions embracing his body with warmth. It’s a low groan that escapes him, a raspy one, which comes flying from lips that stand partially ajar. The room lies in a rosy tinge, the warmth pulling his throat tight. Beads of sweat stand on his forehead and it takes him another handful of seconds until realization dawns and he registers the stark pharyngeal dryness. A tongue like sandpaper coils against his mouth’s hard palate, dying for a taste of sweet water.

He moves with aching limbs, stirs against the stagnant air and in that moment he figures that it must be why he’s got a headache like lightning crashing inside his skull. A great big sigh heaves from strained lungs, while the ongoing process of figuring out in which century he finds himself within remains ongoing, he fails to notice her in the open bathroom door. 

Her ‘Hi’ is not quite a whisper, more of a low hum and he feels like an idiot for tweaking the most faint of smiles, giving a murmured greeting in return. Moments of silence –one, two, three up to four– pass by, before either of them speak. He asks her if they want to leave once dusk had wrapped its dark gown over their part of the world’s northern hemisphere and she gives a curt nod. Blonde tendrils drip with water from a shower she must have just taken, stain an oversized shirt, hanging loosely from her shoulders, sheer in the spots where cascading droplets come to meet the thin white cotton fabric. Legs bare and her face bears the expression of someone who’s had too little sleep to make up for the grams they’ve smoked since their journey into nowhere had first started. She looks like someone who needs a good night’s sleep and a friendly hug. Like someone who has to relearn, not happiness, but mere contentment. She looks like someone who could break hearts, like someone who doesn’t quite know how not to. And when she asks him what’s wrong, since he must have been staring, he wants to tell her that she looks pretty, the way the warm light hits half of her face and her hair a soaked mess. But instead, he just deepens the smile and shakes his head. Nothing. 

III.   The atmosphere is pregnant with cheap liquor and beer, cigarette smoke drawing circular patterns into the warm air. The two of them are seated in a shadowy nook, somewhere hidden away from sight in the far back of the room. They drink up over and over. He needs a break from hours spent on the run from their prisons that chase them, on the race toward the finish line with rewarding freedom, which he fears is nothing but a modern myth. A flawed tale, told to children to stir false hope, raising them up toward the heavenly skies where angels weep for their fate, so their fall will be greater and the damage irreparable. It’s their fate. Survival is claimed by them with each day they keep going on their journey toward something which they will never find, but they tell each other that it’s better than staying still, being in one place for too long.

He’s gotten a taste for wanderlust and he thinks he might finally get it. The reason people love the complex maze of empty highways at night so much, the sound of running engines and nights spent inside a car parked at a gas station in nowhere, so vacant it oozes a sense of dreadful eeriness and explicit danger. Living the life of nocturnal animals, living from one day to the other, to the next. Ceaseless and constant. He can appreciate it for as long as he’s not alone. Only for as long as she’s by his side to serve the function of the best companion to laugh with, at bleak jokes and the emptiness of their glum existence. How pointless life truly is, or if maybe they’re just too drunk to place its true meaning, the sense binding all hardships and light-headed instances, eventually falling short somewhere down the line. 

The chatter of others seamlessly ties into guitar music bleeding through old speakers. He only notices how bad the quality truly is when they walk toward the door in their way out, before they paid for their drinks. Silence falls into the cracks tearing open between them as they shuffle across the damp asphalt, following the glow of street lights. It starts slowly – the rain. Drop by drop it comes falling down, and the angels must be weeping again. She steps ahead, gazes upwards while his heart bends to the breaking point and he’s the twenty year old guy again, snapped from peaceful sleep into a nightmarish world, where the heavy rain doesn’t end. But she draws pirouettes on the sidewalk, twirls and sends her blonde hair spiraling as it follows her circling dance with her palms facing the black sky. He’s still. Torn in conflict, his heart conjuring up the unwanted memories. They’re a growing lump in his throat, so he can’t tell her that for once, the rain isn’t as bad as it’s always been. All of a sudden it’s more bearable – by no means easy, by no means peaceful and tranquil and marvelous, still quite the opposite. But for once, he understands what others must see when they claim the world is more beautiful during a downpour. 

IV.   He’s unsure of how he got her to go with him, but they sit on the floor in an aquarium. Their final destination before they’d have to exit the beautiful underwater world. Eels and sharks, rays and walruses. Now, they sit here, with no one but two foreigners on vacation nearby, looking at the manatees. Idly floating in the water as if their weight is an illusion they refuse to put on golden scales. Bumping into each other without severe damage taken. And he tells her a story of his sixth birthday and it might be the first personal story he shares with her. How his mother took him out to Coney Island, got him ice cream and he could decide what it was they should be doing for the rest of the day. How she’d taken the day off to be with him, since his father wouldn’t give him that pleasure as he’d begun to openly resent his son just mere years prior. How she’d agreed to take him to the aquarium to gaze at the humble giants living in the sea, lazily floating in water and how often he’d returned there whenever he needed an escape. How they’d eaten a funnel cake for lunch and he’d had to make a promise to never tell his father. He tells her that it’s easily the only day of his childhood he has no qualms remembering. Easily one of the luckiest days he can recall, from when his innocence had still been intact.

It might be sadness and jealousy or some kind of happiness that at least one of them had a decent day in their younger years. He isn’t sure, but it smoothes his story with a thick layer of deep regret. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her, made her aware that his mother actually cares about him, even if it was never enough to deter his father from all his violent words. 

Nudging her with his shoulder, he gives her a droopy half-smile, a little lopsided and crooked but absolutely genuine. “Tomorrow we’ll do whatever you want.” It’s a promise he makes, because he longs to see that smile on her face again. The one from the night they’d first met between blood stains and cigarette smoke. Wants to try to make forget how unhappy she may be, feel the sacred present of peace contentment brings. He promises her she gets to call the shots and he promises to be in, no matter what it is she wants to do, without complaint. 

After an hour, they’re still on their spots on the ground, cross legged and with slacking posture. And while she still looks at the creatures in the tank, which should be swimming somewhere in freedom, a sick reflection of a feeling he knows she can relate to, he only looks at her. How the blue of the water glows on her fair skin, almost in awe. But he swallows down the words, because he knows she would hear them. 

V.   Chlorine’s distinctive scent hangs in the tepid air like a disease, but the cold of the swimming pool’s water makes it easier to handle the southern heat. They went for the house with no cars parked up front, the driveway as vacant as the star-shy sky above their heads. Rid of most of their clothes, they dove head first into the cold. Water sticks their undergarments to their bodies, the dim light of 6AM keeps them safe and sound. Pallid tinges of orange and blue stretch across the cope of heaven, a gradient disrupted by few painted clouds, sparsely scattered across the gaping view. 

Empty bottles, a small quantity of two, lie on the green grass some feet from the border of the pool. He isn’t sure for how long they’ve been in here, splashing water in each other’s faces until they couldn’t breathe anymore, how many sips of whisky they’ve spilled to merge with the water, heavy with chemicals to keep it sterile to the touch. She holds her legs wrapped around his waist she’s weightless, stares up into the transforming sky on her back with her arms extended to either side of her slim frame. The halo of blonde hair floats just below the water’s surface and for a moment they’re absolutely still. He’s only recently learned about her penchant for the taking of photographs to last an eternity and remembers asking if he could look at some of the pictures taken by her to see if they coincide with his imagined concept of the talent of a young woman with tragedy woven into her DNA. He doesn’t remember the answer she’s given him through the neon haze of night, doesn’t remember what’s the reason he hasn’t laid a single eye on her photographs or if there’s a reason to retreat for solace to, at all. And he keeps his own occupation to himself, a secret tucked away in the shadow cast by a heart beating painfully violent inside his chest. 

But now there’s just calmness and tranquil motion and he licks his lips to be welcomed by the taste of whisky and chlorine. It’s disgusting but he doesn’t grimace. She says that in a moment like this she feels like they can live forever. That they are eternal like the gods people pray to and the thought alone makes his skin crawl. He replays the sound of her voice inside his head, until it resounds from the bone of his ears like stray bullets. Clear enough to cut glass and yet he can tell the consequences of one too many drinks from the bottles. All glazed eyes and a heavy heart, deadpan and vacant of emotion. It prompts another shiver down his spine. 

She presses her legs against his sides, his hands on her lower back following when she pulls herself up to one level with him. And when she asks him if it sounds silly, if he thinks so, too, there’s a spark ignited behind those eyes, which remind him of a life he’d once lived. Missed opportunities and enduring until he’s devoid of purpose. She asks him if they could be like that, he’s missing nothing but the words to phrase an eloquent answer. There’s something so terribly akin to hope in her gaze it makes his stomach twitch and twist into a wound up coil, riddled with anxiety. He wants to tell her that if nothing’s wrong and nothing’s right they can be whatever they want. That she looks heavenly and makes him wish he’d had his camera with him, but his breath isn’t big enough to bring it all tumbling from his mouth. So instead he leans in, plants a short yet tender kiss on her lips, for it’s the only answer he has for someone like her.

VI.   The road’s so long, emptiness wrapped up in the landscape, he forgets that they don’t have a clue of where they’re headed. She just follows the trail of asphalt, mended at the cracks neglectfully, as if the constructors had little concern for the wellbeing of those simply driving through. They’re headed toward the darkness unfolding in the sky on the line of a faint horizon, singing along to some Springsteen song and are so off tune he can’t help but cringe occasionally. But it barely does enough to capture his smile and make it disappear, so all that’s left for it to do is growing and widening, deepening until it’s bearing teeth and turns into a full-fledged grin. Night time is just an hour away, but he knows better than to bid the sun goodbye. He knows she’ll return when the morning breaks and the firmament mends itself back together, where night had torn it open at the old seams. 

He looks over as they sing along, and it’s refreshing. Nothing matters, and the existential weight of the cosmos and their Milky Way galaxy is lifted from their fragile shoulders and dissolve into star dust glistening in the empty atmosphere. Through the smile she holds he recognizes familiarity, heavy lidded and yawning between the hook and chorus. And when the song’s over and they’re both breathless and smiling and their throats are sore from giving their everything for nothing, she tells him they need to refill once they hit the next gas station. Her voice is hoarse and tired and nothing like it usually is. He nods, notices she hasn’t seen and utters a quiet affirmation, vocal enough just so she can hear. And it won’t be until an hour later that they are greeted by the friendly neon shell of orange and red, and the car gets pulled over until it comes to a halt, the engine dies when she twists the key and wants to get out. It’s he who stops her dead in her tracks. A hand on her shoulder and he tells her that it’s fine, he will take care of it. She should just go to sleep. It’s been a long forty-two hours they’ve spent awake and talking, musing and retreating into bubbles of silence, like they are the only living souls on a dead planet that lies in ashes and rubble in an empty galaxy. 

When he gets out he watches her climb onto the backseat and he gives her a last of his faint smile, which he is almost sure she doesn’t see. The gas tank gets as full as it bears to be. He brings some food and two bags of chips with a discount of a dollar for each, for the two of them, some bottles of water, too, since they can’t live off of weed and whisky at all times. 

And when he returns and sits down behind the wheel, he heaves a long sigh. Squeezes his eyes shut, wondering what the hell it is that he’s doing with a girl so young and so full of poison. But then he remembers her words: My father didn’t want me. My mom didn’t either… She’s never said it to my face, but I can tell, I know she thinks that he would’ve stuck around if they never had me. 

He turns his head around, looks at her in the dim flicker of a street light, the shadows it casts in stark contrast. A shadow play on her features, sound asleep and peaceful for once. Like there’s not a single bad memory she’d ever made, like she’s loved and knows, secure in a family she deserves. He says her name lowly, wants to see if she’s awake. She doesn’t stir a single muscle, unfazed by the intrusion of his raspy whisper. And so he peels his arms from his jacket’s sleeves, takes it off and shifts to put it over her body to serve as a make-shift blanket. He looks at her for a while, breathing into the silence, and his eyes seem like he’s concerned. 

“I’m sorry.” He says into the void prevailing in the still vehicle and he means it. Part of him glad she’s asleep to never memorize the foolish confession of a man who finds pieces of himself reflected in things she’s willingly sharing with him so far, part of him reveling in moderate indifference, not worried what would be if her slumber is a mere pretense and she’d become witness to what he’s about to say. He reaches out, wants to stroke back strands of blonde which have slipped and fallen to cover closed eyes, but stops mere inches away. Lets his arm drop and hit against the front seat’s backrest, not too concerned with the noise it might create. “You’re beautiful and you don’t even know.” Ironic, truly. “And if they don’t see that, it’s not your fault.” 

[crystallinecoral-blog]

30 Day Boyfriend Challenge (in 1 day because I’ll definitely forget about this later)

Since he doesn’t have a tumblr, and he contributed to my first post (the tags are all his), and I miss him despite just seeing him a few hours ago.

Where did you meet?

In Washington, D.C. Lol

How did he ask you to be his?

He didn’t; I believe I was the one who brought it up.

Your first memory with your boyfriend?

Drawing a picture of him based on a photo and he said it looked more like his dad. (After having met his dad, I think it still looks more like him tbh)

Your first kiss

I honestly don’t even remember. It was probably at my apartment? I am more of a hugs n snuggles person.

Your favorite gift he gave you

For Christmas (aka “Winter Gift-Giving Holiday That Only One Of Us Celebrates*”) he got me a reproduction of my favorite painting, The Lady in Gold by Gustav Klimt. Unfortunately I can’t hang it up but having it leaned against the wall makes it look quite nonchalant like “oh hey I just have beautiful pieces of artwork laying around”

*I did get him something too! But not specifically for Christmas - they were souvenir type things from when I visited my parents for winter break.

Nicknames for one another

There are many, but the main ones are “beb” and “beb.” It started out ironically but it just stuck.

What do you think of his family

They are all wonderful!! My parents were a little skeptical at first, telling me that even if he accepts me for who I am, older white people tend to be culturally insensitive and they can’t help it etc. I’m glad that his family isn’t like that.

What do they think of you?

I think they like me! I don’t know them that well but they always ask about me and I’m friends with his brother and stepmom on FB.

Inside joke

There’s quite a few but here’s one I don’t recall the origin of. Changing the /ae/ sound and the to an /u/. Eg: rat becomes root, frat becomes froot, bat becomes boot.

How many times has he upset you?

Let’s say....once a month? Just coincidentally right before my period? I can only think of one or two instances where I became upset at something he did or said and it wasn’t because of PMS.

Why is your relationship different from others?

He was Dx’d with cancer when we were officially dating but still getting to know each other (not that it ever ends). Thankfully he has made a full recovery and is healthy now, but I don’t think most relationships start off with something like that.

10 things you like about him

His smile, his cooking, his sense of humor, his outlook on life, his carefree attitude, his taste in music, his open-mindedness, his quest for novelty, his desire to learn, and his thoughtfulness.

Your song

Mm probably any song by the RHCP

How often do you see each other?

Once a week, due to work/school committments and living far apart. Well, not that far, but when you’re relying on the Red Line...

His friends

I’ve only met one of them once and he seems like a pleasant person. If my bf trusts someone enough to be close friends with them, I feel that I can trust them too.

Things you two have in common

Love of nature, animals, and reading, cleanliness, playing guitar, brunette, not super religious (though I am probably more religious than he is), comfortable in being alone but not introverted

Things that bother you about him

Nothing actually. Anything that bothered me was really a reminder for me to be a better person (more patient, less controlling, more empathetic, etc)

Upcoming plans you have together

Getting married (someday! Once we have real jobs)

Going to the aquarium in Baltimore (next week)

A special memory

My first Thanksgiving dinner was with him, at his dad’s house.

When you feel closest to him

When we’re just being silly and not doing much but enjoying each other’s company

What you imagine your future with him to be

MARRIED YAY with a couple of children. He has mentioned wanting to be a house-husband and I am probably a little more career-focused at the moment so that’s how it’ll be. Living somewhere warm in a diverse city, close to natural attractions, in a small tidy house.

A movie that is special to your relationship

Disney movies - we are in the process of watching them all in chronological order. I think we got up to the 1970s and SNOOZEFEST so we skipped ahead to Finding Dory, Moana (<3), etc. But we need to get back on track.

What you two do together

When we see each other? Everything except bathroom stuff. I even have fun doing my laundry with him. If we go out we usually go for a walk to a museum or park or something and we like trying new places to eat.

How long have you been together?

Nearly 2 years.

Ways you have changed since the beginning of your relationship?

I’ve become more patient and tolerant. I’ve learned a lot about his culture and how to communicate well in a relationship. I have also become more religious! I used to not care about it much until I started explained aspects of Hinduism and my family’s culture to him, and I’d often find myself thinking “hmm, that actually makes sense/is a good idea.” I will always be Hindu no matter whether I believe in anything or not, but now I can also believe in myself as a Hindu.

What do your friends think of him?

Everyone who’s met him thinks he’s a great person. Definitely a positive sign :)

What is the next holiday you will be celebrating together?

Earth Day! April 22nd

Describe meeting his family?

Meeting his dad and stepmom was nerve-wracking because I was invited home for dinner and had just started recovering from an eating disorder. I feel like I was rather gauche in addition to all that because I’m horribly shy, but they made me feel welcome so it was a good experience overall.

Meeting his mom and stepdad was easier because we went to a restaurant for lunch with him and his brother, who was visiting, so I didn’t feel like there was as much attention on me. It was a lovely experience as well.

Your favorite thing about him

He is very stoic (also in the philosophical sense), which balances out my extreme emotions.

The one thing that makes him different from everyone else

This is probably such a cliche but I can be myself around him more than I can with anyone else.