#nosebleeds from epiphanies

[bylerbigbang]

nosebleeds from epiphanies (i took full in the face)

Fic by @wheelersboy | Art by @boycattj and @starsarefire824

Teen | 15k words

“I think you’d make a good priest,” Mike says, after a moment. His face is serious, but there’s an almost joyful sincerity in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Will asks, flattered.

“Yeah. You know how people say they can see God in someone?” Mike asks, and Will nods. “I can see God in you.”

or

Hawkins, Montana, June 1988. When Lonnie Byers catches his youngest son in the arms of another boy, he calls in that favor owed to him by rancher Jim Hopper in Lenora: Will must work as an unpaid ranch hand and learn to "man up." Mike Wheeler follows him to the creepy ranch with electrical problems, like any best friend would.

Warnings: Period-Typical Homophobia, Blood and Gore

Read on Ao3 | View Art (1) (2)

Read an excerpt below:

“Why did you come?” Will repeats. “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t ask you to come. You could have stayed in Hawkins.”

Mike furrows his brows and juts his chin forward. “I wasn’t going to just let you go by yourself. Who knows…what would happen?”

Will pauses. “...What would happen…if you were in Hawkins alone?”

Mike looks up at him. Looks him straight in the eyes. “No. What would happen to me if you were here alone.”

Will shakes his head. “You would be fine. You would’ve managed, like you always do.”

“So what are you saying, that I shouldn’t have come?”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

“Will…we can’t talk about that right now.”

“Well, when can we?”

“Will. Why?”

“Because I want to talk about it.” Will braces himself.

“Well, I should have said never. We can’t ever talk about this.” Mike scoots closer to Will. “This is one of those things, Will, that we’re not supposed to talk about.”

“Why, what’s going to happen?” Will challenges, suddenly feeling brave.

“We could—” Mike nearly shouts. He takes a breath, and then lowers his voice. “Someone could find out,” he says calmly. “People get beaten. People get sick, Will. They don’t…they’re not happy.”

“Mike, I can’t—some people can’t just…ignore it. I don’t think this is anything that will just go away. Pretending to be something else makes people unhappy, too.”

“Well, this sounds like a lose-lose situation. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Mike says, resigned.

The wind howls through the valley, and Will clutches his hat to keep it from flying off.

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Will asks quietly. He doesn’t know what answer he’s hoping for.

Mike looks down at his hands, fidgets with his gloves. He swallows hard, clears his throat. “Father Frank said that if a man experiences any unholy…feelings…that he can’t suppress, then he should devote his life to God and join the priesthood.”

Will contemplates this response. “You really believe a man like that is…damned?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” Mike removes his gloves and tosses them on the ground in front of him, hard.

Will watches Mike’s face as he blinks slowly, his mouth twisted in distress. He so badly wants to believe Mike is wrong, that there is a way they could be happy—whether that’s together or on their own. Deep down, they both know Father Frank is right. Damned to hell for following his heart. Condemned to a lonely life as a priest if he follows the Bible. He chuckles, in spite of himself.

“What?” Mike questions, clearly thrown off by Will’s reaction.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just—” Will laughs again. “I can’t imagine you being a priest.”

Mike raises his eyebrows. The corners of his mouth twitch. “That’d be terrible, I think.”

“Terrible for you? Or for the Church?”

Mike bites his lip. “Both,” he admits.

They share a laugh. It feels good.

“I think you’d make a good priest,” Mike says, after a moment. His face is serious, but there’s an almost joyful sincerity in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Will asks, flattered.

“Yeah. You know how people say they can see God in someone?”

Mike asks. Will nods. “I can see God in you.”

Read more on Ao3 >

[insectbitch]

every time i come on here to make a post about anyways i give myself an aneurysm because i can’t pick one line to freak out about EVERY SINGLE WORD OF THAT FUCKING SONG MAKES ME YELL

[starsarefire824]

Fic Recs

In honor of things being shitty in the tag right now and everyone in their depression era, I'm offering a few fic recs in these trying times. Hope you discover something new, friends. 🖤

the comforts that make us feel numb by passerine_in_jade.

“No, but really. If I were a girl,” Mike presses on, looking up at Will with red-rimmed eyes through dark lashes. Leaning in. Somehow, fully unaware that this line of questioning has Will's heart climbing up to his throat. “Would you want to kiss me?”

or, Will and Mike get high in the desert.

Well written, almost dreamy quality to it. Author to watch for me! Can't believe I only just discovered their writing.

A Wish For Something More by @waroftheposes

Seven year old Will didn't have a problem with kissing his best friend on a dare. Seventeen year old Will, however, would not do it if someone held his hand over a fire.

Or: Truth or dare at seven and truth or dare at seventeen.

They're silly and sweet and oh so confused. The writing is lovely as well. Great if you're in the mood for fluff.

On the Same Frequency by @oldfashionedmorphine

Ever since his best friend Will Byers was murdered back in 1985, Mike Wheeler wanted nothing more than to leave his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana and never look back—only each and every year he’s forced to make an exception when it comes to the holidays. And when Mike visits for Christmas in 1995, his mom asks him to help clear out some junk in his room and down in the basement before he returns home to Indianapolis. But when he comes across an old trunk containing his Supercom walkie-talkie and ham radio, he discovers something strange that has the potential to change everything…

(or an AU inspired by the movie “Frequency” from 2000)

I'm only just starting this, but Frequency au?? Hell yes.

Fleeting by olliecoddle. @souverian-are-we

Mike liked Will’s art shows, albeit slightly less the higher class they had gotten. Little paintings in the corner of a cafe morphed into white walls and rich spectators poised with champagne and well-mannered criticism. Still, he had been looking forward to it. He wanted to go. But now, walking up to the glass doors, he had to admit he felt jittery.

or, Will's new paintings are a little too personal

This is one of my absolute favorites ever. The writing of course, it's ollie. But the descriptions, the entire buildup of Mike's reaction in the art gallery, the content of the painting? The entire concept is beautiful. And be sure to look up the painting Will's was inspired by. It will tell you everything.

any semblance of touch by anonymous.

“Nothing,” Will says, right into Mike’s ear. “Still feeling good?”

So good. Mike makes sure to not say it aloud this time. “I think,” Mike says slowly, heart pounding, “I need” — Will pulls back just a little, just enough for their noses to bump against each other, clumsy, and Mike bites the bullet — “one more.”

Will is still in Mike’s lap, which is maybe not very platonic of him, and the joint has smoldered its way down to the end, nearly over, all eaten up by the fire. Will swallows thickly, then leans closer, a perfect imitation of their positions from earlier. Mike isn’t sure how long it’s been, but fire has been eating away at him too, this whole time, leaving him on the brink of going up in smoke, slow and burning and so good.“Yeah?” Will murmurs, realization dawning on him, eyes wide. “One more?”

or: Mike’s still new to this whole smoking thing. Will has a few ideas.

Utterly depressing this is anonymous because the writing is phenomenal. So alive and vivid. Not sure where this fic was hiding, but I'm glad I found it. Highlights: Mike’s inner dialogue, the playfulness between them, the lowered inhibitions finally letting them relax into the moment.

nosebleeds from epiphanies (i took full in the face) by wheelersboy @karenchildress.

Hawkins, Montana, June 1988. When Lonnie Byers catches his youngest son in the arms of another boy, he calls in that favor owed to him by rancher Jim Hopper in Lenora: Will must work as an unpaid ranch hand and learn to "man up." Mike Wheeler follows him to the creepy ranch with electrical problems, like any best friend would.

jo's writing is always fantastic. he has such a unique voice and mike's struggle in this just does things for me.

When The Sun Runs Out by olliecoddle @souverian-are-we

On a dreary day in March, 1989 the population of Hawkins, Indiana dropped to four. Will Byers watched as the final family left, the bed of their truck packed to the brim and tied down with a tarp. Furniture stuck out at odd angles, and the corner flap flailed in the breeze as they turned onto the highway. Will followed the vehicle with his eyes until it disappeared as a dot on the long stretch of pavement. Then, he got in his car and went home.

Or, Will is burning out, and Mike is mesmerized by the flame.

This was sexy as hell and all I'm gonna say is tattoos. I really enjoyed this little rougher around the edges, let down by life, closed off Will after being left in Hawkins alone with El, Hopper, and Joyce to wait for the end of the world that never seems to come.

dirty rain by henrycreel

mike wheeler is an average alpha teenage boy working on keeping tight control of his raging hormones in the wake of being seventeen years old, unmated, and a virgin who's never spent his rut with anyone before. when one of his teachers makes an innocent request of him, he finds himself spiraling almost right away. the omega sitting next to him in class is going to be his omega one way or another even if it means employing some traditional and unconventional means to show him who he belongs to.

will byers is an omega with a tendency toward anxiety and outright fear, marked by years of abuse at the hands of his father. high school should be a chance to open a new chapter for himself, but he only truly finds comfort sitting next to mike, an alpha whose presence seems to keep the usual mocking and bullying at bay. but when mike starts to cross the line from friendly classmate into so much more, will has no time to decide if he's ready to move on to a relationship of his own, to finding a mate to settle down with like his big brother already has.

mike is making the decision for both of them.

A solid Omegaverse fic! <3

[firehose118]

i need to try to find the words to use

Chapter 8 | Therapy: Catholicism, Masculinity, and Shannon

Over the next few months, Eddie is hit with revelation after revelation about who he is and why he thinks the way he does. Some are obvious. Some are less obvious. Some are things he’s known but never quite been able to put a name to, or that he’s known and run screaming from whenever he sees them plain.

Each epiphany hits him square in the face. The resulting nosebleeds feel like baptism. He bleeds all over Frank’s office and Buck’s shoulder and Tommy’s kitchen table. He bleeds until he feels like he can breathe again.

{ao3}

[shit-talk-turner]

"What a place for both the opposite sides of my double life to finally collide / Sharing secrets I was taking to the grave / Nosebleeds from epiphanies I took full in the face"

whenever I listen to this I think of Taylor and Louise getting into a fight and Alex trying to stop them lmao

lmao this mod too

[azar-rosethorn]

Rottmnt Incorrect Quotes 2

--

Mikey: I like wearing oversized sweaters. Not just because they're extremely comfy and cuddly, but because whenever the sleeves are really big, I get to flop them around and smack people.

--

Casey Sr: I hope no one lowkey hates me.

Casey Sr: Highkey hate me. Hate me with every fiber of your being.

Casey Sr: Go big or go home.

--

Leo: But when all hope seemed lost, I had an epiphany!

Leo, earlier: I'm going to throw myself into the sea.

--

Draxum, working at McDonald's: Sorry sir, we don't serve a McFuck here, so either you throw that one slice of pickle out or we're gonna have a McProblem.

--

April: What do you call disobeying the law?

The Mad Dogz: A hobby.

April: *crosses her arms*

The Mad Dogz: That we do not engage in.

--

Mikey: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

--

Casey Jr: My expectations were low but holy fuck.

--

Mikey: Not to be nsfw but I want someone to hold me while I sleep.

--

Leo: I tried to write ‘I'm a functional adult’ but my phone changed it to ‘fictional adult’ and i feel like that’s more accurate.

--

April: Assert your dominance over your friends by kicking them in the face, and then giving them a little smooch on the forehead!

--

Donnie, tearing up the room: Where are they?

Donnie, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children?

Donnie: Somebody moved my M&M's, and now I am going to start killing.

--

Splinter: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

--

Donnie: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices.

Donnie: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

--

Casey Sr, after having a nosebleed: Welp. Time to wash the blood off my hands.

--

Leo: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

[jetskisonyourmoat]

Finally finally finally updated this fic.

[bylerbigbang]

2023 Byler Big Bang Fics & Art Masterpost

Now that December is here, that's a wrap on the 2023 Byler Big Bang! We welcomed 22 fics and even more art into the fandom over October and November, and now we want to celebrate everyone's hard work one more time with this masterpost of all the fics and art links completed for the challenge. A huge thanks to everyone who took part or otherwise supported the fics and art of the creators!

We will be back in summer 2024 with info about next year's event.

[The full fic collection on Ao3]

Masterposts here on Tumblr with fics + art:

Second Chances and Dances

remember to remember me

Theatre and Pom Poms

a swingset stuck in amber

Teal Streaked Ribbons

in the springtime, in the sun (we can be alone without anyone)

it's nice to have a friend

What a Time to Be Alive

under the stars with you

Ain’t it enough that I'm laying my heart out?

Through A Dark Glass, Wanting

nosebleeds from epiphanies (i took full in the face)

Autumn Leaves

this must be the place

And the Wonder of it All is That You Just Don’t Realize How Much I Love You

Lips Like Sugar

never did shine as bright

afterimage

On the Same Frequency

At the Time of Sight

ai! ai! (fūnestaque littera ducta est)

Sick of Meaning (I just want to hold you)

[insectbitch]

i am once again thinking about nosebleeds from epiphanies i took full in the face

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

ALSO!!! Kaiju bros, Jaeger pilots au. (Either my au or your take on them being Jaeger pilots?? 👀)

vague idea for like... pretty immediately after their serious accident that you mentioned in your AU, mayhaps

---

Hermann is- not worried, per se, more just lightly concerned. Perhaps a little anxious, though he's not sure if that buzzing, restless sensation is his own or Newton's ghost drift from the other side of the Shatterdome. He's not been sleeping well, and he knows it isn't from lack of desire to on his own part. No, that certainly must belong to Newton.

This is how Hermann finds himself striding — or, well, hobbling, as it is, now, finding balance while leaning on a cane and thinking he's lucky to be cleared to return to piloting ever, let alone in as little as six weeks — towards the medical bay at three in the morning, well after most PPDC personnel have retreated to their bunks.

Perhaps, he thinks, almost hoping, it's nightmares. A natural trauma response and one that they are equipped to work through. If it were so, though, it's more than likely that the memories would have appeared in Hermann's own dreams. He almost wishes they had; wishes he had that knowledge of what his drift partner had gone through on his behalf. He's not sure if the knowing would increase or ease his own feelings of guilt. He still wants to know.

Newton is sitting up in the narrow infirmary bed, bent over a notebook with his glasses perched precariously on the very edge of his nose and a gel-ink pen held equally precariously in one hand. Newton, Hermann knows, has always been ambidextrous; it's a trait that has on occasion passed between them following the drift. Today, or tonight, rather, the pen is held in his right hand, left palm flat against the notebook as if to steady it. Both hands are shaking viciously, visible even from the door.

It's a side effect of the neural overload, one the doctors say will pass given time, along with the recurring nosebleeds and dizzy spells. For now, Newton is trapped in both the infirmary and his own frustration. Even without the connection of their drift bond, said frustration would be palpable in the air, thick enough to cut through.

Hermann clears his throat. "Newton."

"Hey, Hermann," Newton greets, too casually. Of course he's aware of Hermann's presence, just not acknowledging it except through the blip of recognition and, dare Hermann risk naming it, affection through the ghost of a currently unused drift bond. "What's up?"

He asks like it's the middle of a normal day, as if nothing has happened and everything is as it should be. As if his hands aren't shaking too hard to allow him to write down whatever epiphany had kept him awake; as if Hermann's aren't beginning to shake in sympathy or longing for a solution or or or-

"Breathe," says Newton, suddenly lifting his head to look at Hermann. Hermann breathes. "You good?" Newton blinks at him, eyes bloodshot behind the frames of his glasses, but gaze clear and more curious than actively concerned.

Hermann scoffs. "I came to ask you the same thing," he admits. Then, as an added explanation although it's not really needed, "Ghost drift."

"Oh. Sorry, I guess I was keeping you up?" Newton frowns, slaps his notebook closed and lets the pen fall from his grasp. "I'm fine," he says, which is almost surely a lie.

"Would you-" Hermann hesitates. "Would you like me to write down whatever it was you were thinking of?"

Newton stares at him. "I mean... you'd do that for me?"

"Of course," replies Hermann before he can feel uncomfortable about it. "May I?" He takes a step toward the bed.

Newt grins. "Yeah, s- sure, come on, man!" He holds out the notepad in shaking hands as Hermann carefully takes a seat on the mattress. "So I was thinking of this new strategy-"

It's after three in the morning. They both should be sleeping, but aren't. But. Across the quiet drift connection between them, tonight there is peace.

[killemwithkawaii]

Goretober 2022 Day 32: Soulmates (pt. 2)

[Major tw, see tags]

I woke up this morning to sunlight shining through the curtains, feeling groggy, and really, really stiff.

I’d slept heavily, but it hadn’t been at all restful. I’m so tired… I must have been dreaming, tossing and turning all night, and with how much my back and jaw and throat aches, I’d probably slept wrong, and with my mouth open….

I tried to remember what I’d been dreaming of. It seemed important, but all the details slipped away like liquid through my grasp… I remembered hope, sadness… giddiness, fear… feeling sicker than I ever had… an intense pleasure… being frustrated, at my wits end… forgiveness, acceptance, isolation, longing… having an epiphany, something about a betrayal… unclenching my fist, being cold, running around in circles… jealousy, satisfaction… this weird combination of relief and regret, like I’d scratched an itch I hadn’t been able to reach for ages, and when I did, it felt so good, I just kept going to the point of scratching it raw…  but mostly, I remembered something hearty and tender going down my throat. It went down so easily, it was almost like it had crawled in my mouth and slid down on its own. I could still taste it- sweet, and soft. Warm, comforting… familiar… 

I bit off a chunk, chewed it, and gulped it down. I felt so full, I was tempted to flop onto my pillow so I could sleep it off.

…….

….When did I sit up?

Slowly, the sweet taste coating my mouth gave way to something rich, and savory, and metallic. There was something stringy wedged between my front teeth, and bits of something chewy stuck in the crevices of my molars, which I tried to suck out, but could not get to budge....

 My face felt weighted, heavy with something caked onto my chin and nose and cheeks. My lips were so sticky, I had to stick my tongue through to part them. I’d drooled in my sleep, I thought, and went to wipe it away with my wrist, but found I’d only added onto what was already there....

My eyes gave resistance to opening, too, crusted and sore from sleeping for so long. I blinked hard to clear the blur, and saw that my wrist and hand and arm were covered in a new layer of pigment, flaking in some places, wet in others. My shirt and my hair clung to the rest of me, sweaty, stinking, moist and red, the bedspread beneath my shins in a similar state. 

A nosebleed, a bitten tongue, a split lip, I thought- no, there is too much. Much too much for a superficial wound. Much too much to be mine...

Beside me, a weight, a heap- sharp, yet soft, warm, yet cold. Stained bones, some gnawed and stripped bare, others broken open and hollowed, as if they were shells that had been sucked clean, and one or two still encased in raw meat, glistening with blood and marbled with fat, torn and chewed with rough edges. A ribcage, a pelvis, a spine, a skull, hollow save for scraps, and a single, smooth piece of blue glass….

 I stared at it, trying to make sense of the scene, until I caught a glimpse of my own hands, and the hand they held within them-  four-fingered, now that the pinkie had been reduced to a stump, large, blocky, calloused on the pads, speckled with rows of faded scars, and tattooed on the wrist with my name in a heart….

Another dream, I thought. A dream, just a dream, a horrible, horrible nightmare…. 

It’s alright. I don’t need to worry. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll wake up, any time now, and it'll be like none of this ever happened.

 Once I wake up, we’ll be together, in this bed, and he’ll be in my arms, or pressed against my back, and we’ll have slept in, just like we’d said we would when we’d laid down together and kissed each other goodnight before we turned out the lights yesterday. 

Today is the first day of our third honeymoon. I am staying home so that I can spend time with my soulmate, Sally. He came a long way to see me, and now, It’s going to be just the two of us, together, in our happy, normal home with a happy, normal life for the rest of the month. I am so, so excited, because today is our anniversary, October 1st. We’re going to have so much fun together. All I have to do now is wake up…

……

……

……

……

Wake up.

…… 

……

....................

Please, let me wake up…. 

....................

[dramatiique]

(Heavily headcanon based.)

Ui-myeong didn’t live a normal childhood by any means. His father, Sung-ha, was a drug addict and criminal who beat him and his mother, Heejin. He also sold his son’s belongings when he needed drug money, mentally abused him, and told him every day that he wished he were dead. His mother did nothing to protect him or herself, saying that Ui-myeong should just behave and that his father was the reason they had a roof over their heads, despite him only being able to afford it because of his connections to crime.

Ui-myeong resented his parents.

At school, he did well in his studies because he wanted to achieve something with his life. He was top of the class but was an outcast among his peers, which made him a target for bullies. His teachers didn’t step in to help, even after he tried to confide in them. They told him to take measures to avoid the bullies as if it as his fault for being near them in the first place. Dealing with school on top of the abuse at home only served in cultivating his hatred that he buried deep until it rooted itself in his heart.

Ui-myeong resented his peers and his teachers.

Before graduating high school, when he was eighteen, he was forced to work at a gang-owned bar (the gang Sung-ha is part of) because they needed a new staff member after one of theirs was arrested. Ui-myeong had no choice but to agree because disagreeing just wasn’t an option. He was surrounded by his dad’s scummy friends night after night and was their personal punching bag, often berated and made fun of, and just treated badly in general.

The gang's leader took things a step further. He would harass and assault Ui-myeong sexually. When Ui-myeong once asked why he was doing such things, he simply replied that he was bored and that it was for his own amusement. The other gang members all knew what was happening (including his father) but it didn’t matter to them - they were too busy with their own duties within the gang to care. When around the gang, and the gang leader in particular, Sung-ha was reduced to a slimy bootlicker, who wanted to please those higher than him.

Ui-myeong resented the gang and its leader.

His dreams of going to university to study chemistry were ruined after his father refused to pay for him. It wasn’t like he was being paid at the bar job, either, so he couldn’t exactly do it on his own. This caused Ui-myeong to steal wherever he could. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty, Ui-myeong did whatever he could to survive. Somewhere along the way, due to the trauma he has experienced from all aspects of his life, Ui-myeong’s mental health declined. It led him to becoming detached from himself and his emotions — the things and people around him sometimes became distorted. 

One day, as his father lay in a drugged out state in the living room and his mother was out, Ui-myeong finally snapped. Finding one of his syringes that his father carelessly left out in the open, Ui-myeong stabbed it into his father's arm and injected him with more heroin, hoping to force an overdose. It worked and he soon left the house after packing some belongings.

While on the run, he experienced bad nosebleeds, fainting spells, and hallucinations. Something dark gradually took over him, trying to force him to succumb to his desires. However, he was able to control the monster within him, allowing him to be conscious of his actions and do what he wants, even when the monster is present.

In the chaos that followed citizens turning into monsters, Ui-myeong volunteered to be analyzed by government scientists after revealing that he was infected. He thought it would help figure out what the monster (he thought it was a disease at the time) inside him was and why he could control it better than others he’d seen. They tried everything to separate it from his body (freezing, thawing, sawing, piercing, and scorching) but after the monster inside continuously killed the scientists, Ui-myeong had an epiphany - the monster isn't able to be separated from his body because the monster is him.

During one of the experiments, his body was broken down and unable to continue functioning but his abilities made it possible for him to transfer his consciousness to the corpse of one of the scientists that he'd killed earlier; it becomes his new body. This is when he realized that this new state is an evolution and that he was chosen, that humans have failed to be selected by nature, and that he is above them. He also believes that humans and monsters cannot co-exist.

Ui-myeong resented the scientists who experimented on him.

He escaped the facility and went on the hunt for other “Special Infectees”. On his search, he arrived at a chapel. The survivors welcomed him inside, thinking he was just a young man in need of help. After spending some time with them (and subtly trying to convince some to join his revolution), Ui-myeong watched as the stress of the monster apocalypse made them turn on each other. As they killed each other, this further reinforced Ui-myeong's opinions on humans being weak.

He was the sole survivor of the attack, easily dispatching those who were left at the end. Only a few hours later, he was found by the group of mercenaries led by Shin Jung-seop. He joined their gang just to disguise himself from the ever-growing military presence, pretending to be just like them…

The rest of the story can be found HERE.

A brief summary of Ui-myeong including his personality can be found HERE.

First FC is Kim Sunoo (Before he transfers his consciousness) Second FC is Kim Sung-Cheol (Sweet Home look) Third FC is Hur Hyunjun (his permanent one after leaving Wook’s body)

[9ries-moved]

i had a dream of joonie last night and its the only bts dream i can remember quite vividly....

[afriendcalledarchie]

Sticks and stones might break my bones but words like “Still got pictures of friends on the wall, I suppose we aren’t really friends anymore” and “Nosebleeds from epiphanies I took full in the face/ Oversharing and its bitter aftertaste” and “You’re just sounding it out, but you’re not coming back again” will destroy me and wreck every bit of self composure I’ve got left.

[yellowloid]

I have a theory about Mr Schwartz:

Mr Schwartz is James Ford, the one who's been working with the band and supporting through all of their career, holding the crew and everyone together. Plus, he's worked with Alex and Miles on their tlsp albums. Miles could be the 'you' as they put out two albums together and are now wondering whether or not they could make a third one, the 'third chance'

hi anon! that is a very interesting theory you've got there. it would indeed be very interesting on alex's part (and also kinda cute of him) to dedicate a song to someone who's been such a constant presence in his career. i think the part about miles being the 'you' he's talking to really fits, along with the part about them having put out two albums and considering trying for another baby, as alex would say. that gives me hope for tlsp3 so i'm glad you put this interpretation in my inbox skfhsfhhs

however, let me add my two cents on what this song could possibly be about. obviously this is just my opinion + we have to wait and see how the song fits with the others once the album is out + we'll never really know, and that's okay. this is just some good old fan analysis.

i'm gonna be basic and say i think mr. schwartz is alex. the song itself gives me strong the bourne identity + anyways vibes, and i think it might also be directly connected to body paint. i find it very interesting that they decided to debut these two songs together, and maybe there's a reason why they did it.

i'm gonna talk specifically about anyways, mr. schwartz and body paint, since i feel like tbi goes even deeper and towards other directions and i'd end up writing an essay on it alone.

these three songs seem to share a common idea - that is, awareness of one's own façades, and the way in which said façades are slowly but surely crumbling down.

first of all we have anyways, which i think along with the ultracheese can be considered the prequel to what we're gonna get once the album is out. lots and lots of self-reflection - influenced by the pandemic? - and an eerie feeling of loneliness, a cryptic stillness that is captured perfectly by the car's album cover.

now let's compare these verses from anyways, body paint and mr. schwartz respectively:

"what a place for both the opposite sides of my double life to finally collide / sharing secrets i was taking to the grave / nosebleeds from epiphanies i took full in the face"

"for a master of deception and subterfuge / you made yourself quite the bed to lie in / [...] and I'm keeping on my costume"

"and if we guess who i'm pretending to be / do we get a prize?"

the anyways verse is all about epiphanies: it's him coming to terms with the fact that he's been keeping up a façade, two different lives he's been living, accepting it as a reality and even introducing himself to the listeners - who already know him, but he's doing it again ("you can call me alexander, it's nice to meet you all"), because the song is all about him finally putting on paper what he's slowly been realising. he takes it into account, and goes on with it.

then we get to the car.

the tracklist isn't organised at random. i'm convinced that mirrorball opens and perfect sense closes it for very specific reasons. nothing is left to chance. the album is all about self-reflection and discovery, and maybe, just maybe, getting to the end having finally sorted things out. having them make perfect sense for the very first time. (however, we'll see once we get to hear the full album)

so, it's not accidental that body paint comes before mr. schwartz (respectively track 5 and 9). in both songs, there are two yous he's talking to - one is himself (and he alternates it with the 1st person pronoun), while the other one is this mysterious other person, maybe a lover, maybe a friend, maybe just a hypothetical listener. (obviously i'm a milex demon so you already know who i'm thinking about, but i'm not gonna analyze it through the milex lens rn so let's not derail. maybe if someone's interested i could do it)

both songs are self-deprecating, but in slightly different ways. body paint is about being aware of those façades, of how good he really is at keeping them up ("master of deception and subterfuge"); how not being able - or not being allowed - to be his true self makes him miserable ("you made yourself quite the bed to lie in"). but at the same time, as he says in mr. schwartz, "there's not one god damn thing that you can do about this". he can't do anything to change this situation. it's an impasse. he's stuck.

however, after all this reflection on his part, the two songs get to very different conclusions.

in body paint, he's "keeping on [his] costume". he's choosing to deny this reality, going on and pretending everything's fine because it's easier that way. there's a bitter taste to it, but he still chooses to keep going down that path.

on the contrary, although the ending is quite ominous, in mr. schwartz there's this verse:

"having attempted twice, both incorrectly / do we get a third try?"

there's this feeling of uncertainty, of skepticism when being faced with the opportunity to try again and let go of all his façades. he's not even sure that opportunity is there.

but the fact that he's asking whether there is, indeed, a possibility to try yet again - it tells us he's willing to do it, and he might as well give himself a chance.

after all, he said it himself in the bourne identity: "i'm the mystery man that's been unmasked". perfect sense will close the album, and maybe by then he'll finally be able to let go of his mask.