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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a drabble, hobi is kinda like a band singer and Y/N is like his old time friend and they like had a falling out bc he got super successful but years after they're like together again? IS IT TOO SPECIFIC UHM :")

parallel

pairing: hoseok x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: hobi’s kind of an asshole and is vERY much emotionally repressed, y/n’s serotonin is dependent on wearing bridesmaid gowns, the dwindling one-sided pining anD the everlasting question of where the fuck was hoseok when you needed him :D // gif is from pinterest!

notes: this drabble really hits close to home and tysm for the request babe!! even if i’m a month late yeesh :O

you can’t believe yourself either when you say it

but holy shit — weddings are definitely your thing!

there’s something about the union of marriage that gets your head into overdrive but in a gOOD way

there’s just something so pulling about last-minute changes and family drama and awkward trips to the restroom that make your mind mHMMMM THIS IS IT CHIEF

yea granted that not every wedding you go and participate in isn’t exactly straight out of a rom-com

lmao sometimes it’s so obvious that the bride doesn’T love the groom but hey!!! who’s keeping tabs :D

you love wedding environments so much that here you are, two years out of uni and a couple of gigs later — couples are LITERALLY fighting over you

heh not to brag but uh

you weren’t recognized as best wedding planner for two years in a row and have your face in multiple covers of bridal magazines and such

time magazine recognized you as one of the most influential people in the scene last year but hey !!!!! no big deal lads

“i am asking you for just one minute, y/n!! stop being a wedding planner and start being my maid of honor!!”

nayeon exasperates and tugs you by your sleeve, having already noticed your second nature of taking charge the moment you entered the hall

after all, this is just cake tasting! that’s why she’s brought her maid of honor to help her out, nOT immediately go fishing for a clipboard

“well if the planner you hired wasn’t so sloppy-...” it’s a fact! he relies too much on his tablet and doesn’t even have any paper with him, and even if he’s already using a tablet, he doesn’t even use different colors to mark out!

apparently nayeon can’t handle the truth because she’s stamping her hand to your mouth that’s already a frown, about to suffocate you if only you didn’t bite it

>:|

y/n - 1 | jisoo’s hand - 0

you’re just a lil bit cranky alright

the last wedding you’ve catered to was just three days ago, and well you’re thankful for your job!!! really!!! bc not everyone is as booked as you nor sought-for

but there’s something about her wedding that puts you off :((

she’s very kindly yet firmly told you that no, you would absolutely not be her wedding planner and coordinator

“b-but i-“

“i want you to relax! and it’s-...”

“we said-“

“we said when we were kids that we’d plan each other’s wedding, but we didn’t swear on it! and i want you to-...”

“y-you told-“

“i told you that we didn’t have a wedding planner yet so you’d intentionally clear your schedule for me! and here we are-...”

“i’ll cry-“

“aww you big baby, save it for the wedding! i told you, just relax, m’kay? let yoongi handle the planning, and you do the unwinding.”

goddamn yoongi

yoongi who’s a wedding planner in his sPARE time could fuck right off

you don’t care if he’s very persuasive and firm and happened to book nayeon’s wedding even it was peak season :((

you don’t wanna admit it, but being a wedding planner has basically been your personality trait for the past years and it’s hard to cope when your job is to not.... plan and worry

anyways besides that

you’re a little iffy because nayeon’s wedding is your wake-up call

you’ve been planning weddings.... but uh when the FUCK is yours

u are so tempted to put a sock over your head and just yell gIVE ME A RING!!! PUT IT IN THE BAG

unfortunately, you don’t even have someone in your life to readily propose to you

you would have had someone, actually —

if only hoseok didn’t wake up one day and decide to remove you from his life

if only your childhood friend didn’t suddenly decide that you’re not worthy of his attention and time!!!

god he thinks he’s a bigshot

and well yea ok he IS a bigshot

who doesn’t know jung hoseok at this point :((

you’ve always figured that he’d be successful at whatever path he chooses and for a moment, you feel sorry for him that he’s stuck in such a state of mundaneness

he’s stuck between home and school and since he has no choice — you

your each other’s day one!!! the moment your mom went home from the hospital, her first instinct was to knock on hoseok’s mom’s door and then iMMEDIATELY present you to her

the two of them are absolute best friends and why not make our babies the same way ya know????

the two of you were apparently so close as babies that when one was crying, the other would comfort

and you weren’t even a year old then????

you’ve shared cribs and milk bottles and clothes and everything in between with hobi

so why is it that when you’re just almost at the peak of your life with graduation, he just suddenly decides to drop you?

he’s suddenly too cool for you as if he hasn’t spent countless nights crying on your shoulder for any inconveniece that gets brought up

he can’t even meet your eyes :(((

that’s why graduation is the blandest and emptiest day you could recall

hoseok is over there with his bandmates looking the absolute hAPPIEST and you’re there by the corner.,.,. alone by yourself feeling like your cap has the words dropped by jung hoseok :D all over it

he’s at his peak and at the top of his life performing and touring, whenever and wherever

he’s happy

but without you in it :(

the irrational (and probably rational) part in your head is beyond infuriated at him because atleast offer an explanation!!! if you did wrong at one point, then he should tell you!!!

not suddenly pretend that you were nEVER in his life

even his mom feels guilty and ashamed over his son’s actions so she orders flowers from the shop signed underneath your company, then send it back to you

for awhile she tried to pretend that it was hoseok but no :((( that man will physically convulse if he doesn’t add (atleast) three hearts after his name

you hate him so much that you still religiously visit his instagram and wonder if he could see your likes despite a couple other million liking the same posts

you hate him so much that he’s number one on every single thing in your spotify wrapped

you hate him sO much that you wonder who’s behind the songs his band plays and how you’d wish that you’d be the one he’s writing about

“is the cake that... perfect?”

nayeon gently places a hand on your shoulder to which you flinch and she backs off because christ i’m nOT taking the cake away from you!!!

oh my god why are you tearing up

“yeah, yeah! it’s so good. you should try it nayeon!” you’re scrambling to scrape up your plate, almost shoving the fork into her mouth as she squeals with the sudden attack

yoongi has ???? hovering around his head but this is nOT about you my man

he sneaks a look to the bride’s plate and uh-huh... yup..... she has the same moist chocolate fudge cake with coffee ganache on her alright

the topic of hoseok that you bring up to yourself, one that no one knows (not even nayeon!!!), is just something that never seems to vacate your mind fully

it’s been two years and you’re still so touchy and you dON’T KNOW WHY

he probably doesn’t even think about you when he’s drunk and bored

“this champagne must be so... nice?”

nayeon thinks out loud as you’re once again crying into doing your maid of honor duties

she’s a lil worried if she’s being honest but you always whisk her away when she’s about to ask

like right now :D

“are you-...”

“i just can’t believe you’re getting married!! wow, you’re so cool. with the love of your life. then the two of you could be cool together after the wedding. you aren’t gonna forget me once you’re married, are you? nayeon do you think that i would ever be married-...”

you should just accept it now :((

you’re a little bit of a mess and a half underneath your pantsuits and walkie-talkies and the special pride you’d carry whenever the couple mentions you in their wedding speeches

absolutely WHY in the hell do you think about hoseok when it comes to weddings???

it’s almost a pavlovian response when you instruct the people to open the doors and the bride to start walking and your mind would iNSTANTLY think about him

it’s sometimes awkward when the couple would ask ah !!!! ms. y/n u are such a world-renowned wedding planner !!!! your own wedding must’ve been magnificent :D

aha actually about dat.,.,

you get tons of gifts of gratitude from just a single client alone and you don’t have hoseok and his stupidly powerful arms to help carry boxes back to your car

you don’t have him to give untouched and left-over flowers to

you don’t have him to remind you when you’re getting a little ahead of yourself over just talking to sponsors and trying to squeeze in as much as you could for an initial budge

you don’t have hoseok, in all his glory, to put his hand on the small of your back when you’re talking to how you need the fireworks to start the moment the band starts playing ice ice baby and the vendor does nOT need to know why it’s the song chosen by the couple

it’s what he’d do when you’re trying to fit two semesters’ worth of notes into a pricey A3 notebook that you’ve bought

and just how many weddings do you plan and coordinate, even within just a span of two week?

a lot.

often.

you think about hoseok a lot. often. oftenly a lot.

but aha nOT TODAY!!!

today’s nayeon’s wedding and you’re not gonna ruin it for her by projecting your yearning into your best friend’s wedding that clearly isn’t yours

10/10 she’d probably stop reciting her vows to ask you why you’re sniffling

your only source of distraction is your gown!!!

your maid of honor is the absolute pRETTIEST and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel gorgeous in it

it’s floor-length silk!!! fLOOR-LENGTH !! SILK !! GOWN

it’s in a deep mauve with an off-shoulder situation and a little risqué bit of cleavage!!! cinches right at the top of your waist and poofs a little and oh my god mayhaps you aRE pretty

god hoseok may have not written you a song, but sean kingston dEFINITELY did

nayeon knew you’d be catching everyone’s attention as much as her wedding dress would and she’s absolutely happy and fine with it!!

in fact she’s strategically practiced her throws for her bouquet so you’d catch it and your gown would nOt go to waste

having a wedding happen right where you are, but being in it as a guest instead of a planner, is just so much... calmer

you’re not fixing the chaos but you’re just watching it!!! if you feel a little more bubbly then you’re gonna partake in it hee-hee

yoongi’s actually not so bad

he could just be a little too lax which ends up with him being lost and distraught

you could see so much of you in him when you were just starting out and it’s endearing actually

(( nayeon’s told you in passing that she once told yoongi that you were her best friend and he looked both intimidated and awed at the same time ))

the only thing you help yoongi with is sending him a thumbs-up every now and then and he perks uP because that’s the signal that he’s doing a good job and not fucking up

nayeon looks so beautiful and you’re already tearing up fixing her veil :((

you know how wedding photographers and videographers LOVE people crying???? they r probably eating your shit up so quick that you won’t be surprised if you take up atleast half of the same-day edit of their wedding film

there’s something so serene about the hecticness everyone’s indulged themselves in

you’re grinning when you walk down the aisle because you realize that omg you haven’t doNE this in a long time!!!

the last time you did was testing out the aisle for a client that wanted it ala crazy rich asians and you had to walk back and forth cOLD-ASS water with damp rolled-up pant cuffs before they got the temperature and the levels right

nah you should definitely know how it’d be because after all :D you aRE the consultant for that scene in crazy rich asians :D no biggie :D

it’s such a serene blast to see everyone happy and in their element

you’re sitting the reception out bc yoongi very kindly pleaded to please give him notes and promising that he’d never tell it to anyone else

the whole planning process for nayeon and not oNCE did he bring a notebook..,., but he just hAPPENS to have one when you’re telling him how to say no to your client

��listen, you have to tell them in the sincerest way possible, that you tried everything. it gets them going when you tell them that you even pleaded with the vendors, but don’t go too low on your knees, alright? and then after that, you say a strict no. no, because their choice of flowers is absolutely sHIT for their tie-dye theme they’re so adamant about!”

yoongi has never listened so intently

not even when his roommate lists out their grocery checklist

“mhmm. and if they still push, should i give them an ultimatum? or tell them about a wedding that totally happened that did exactly what they were planning, and how much the guests hated it?”

okay nOW he’s talking

“what you do is...”

the buzz of the reception never really dies down because it’s barely even starting!! the couple’s still finishing up on their pictorial which gives everyone time to get to the venue and freshen up or get last-minute gifts lmao

you know that it’s starting when the band or the dj starts doing polished mic checks

mic check! one, two, three! sKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRA

no, no

there’s something definitely wrong

the rolling and the lull of routine words just seem so familiar

mic check! J-A-Y! H-O-P-E! J-HOPE! jung-...

fucking

gOD

that’s hoseok.

that is most dEFINITELY hoseok

you turn your back to see the stage set-up and god...... fuck

it’s someone you haven’t seen in the flesh for two years yet spent the years of your life with before that

he looks sickening in his black mandarin-collared suit with thick white lining on it wITH his hair styled up and parted to the site

it’s even more sickening for you because you don’t actually know if you can mANAGE to be here

you’re standing up abruptly and yoongi squawks at that because he is the furthesT thing from being finished about asking how to make the guests arrive on time without holding a field trip assembly-like type of line with the megaphone

the fastest way out was dashing through the front part and you must have forgotten that hoseok has a knack for catching things with his perfectly good eyesight

“y/n?”

ok what now

he mumbles your name to the mic, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes trail the speed-walking speck of mauve from in front of him

his little question to himself must have gotten people more than curious

they’re already mORE than curious because it’s his goddamn band that’s playing!!!! and the fees are not cheap and it’s practically impossible to book them!!!

but jungkook, their drummer, was a close friend of the groom’s and alright.,.,. okay maybe we CAN play at weddings now

ok hoseok’s mind is probably just playing tricks on him and he should finish setting up before the lights dim again for what they insist is the 𝓼𝓱��𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

but then he can’t help but look oNE last time

then he sees the watch he’s gifted you on his wrist — one that he was supposed to give you at graduation but later made his mom give it to you instead and not say that it was from him

...

....

whew he might need his inhaler for this one and he doesn’t even hAVE asthma

oh my god what the hELL is hoseok doing here????

you haven’t seen him for two years, and the moment you do, it’s in your best friend’s wedding with no date present??

you’re clearly panicking and the only form of caffeine you’ve gotten is the pre-game of getting a few bites from the coffee ganache in nayeon’s wedding cake that she was munching on while getting her makeup done

you know what!! it’s fine

it’s totally fine :D

hoseok is just hoseok and you’re not gonna be intimated by the man you’ve been loving in the sidelines from practically your whole life :D

it’s not a big deal!

besides, people are looking for you bc you’re supposed to give the opening toast to welcome nayeon and her groom in

you’re walking, you’re talking, aaaaaaaand-

yeah this is not nOT a big deal

you’re crumbling from the inside out because seeing hoseok is just too painful after two years of wondering where you could’ve went wrong and what could’ve happened if the two of you didn’t fall out

you feel especially bitter when hoseok starts singing their famous song about love and everything in between

everyone’s sWOONING and on their feet and you’re literally just there vibrating with how furious you are

you keep downing the good champagne as iF it’s gonna get you drunk

yoongi has a clue that the server must be a little dizzy having to go and back forth to your table so he just offers his portion to you

you’re so goddamn busy and absorbed with loathing him that you don’t even turn your back to notice that his eyes keep flickering to you

even at the cheesiest lyric, hobi expects that you’d atleast LOOK at him for that one but nOOOO your champagne flute and the blondie beside you is just much more interesting

you’re buzzing with anger that you aren’t enjoying this reception At All

you fail to even recognize that nayeon’s intentionally had your favorite food to be served!!! and you have an extra portion delivered to your table!!!

you just want your suffering to eND wow absolutely how much longer could this go

you’re so busy with cussing the whole ordeal in your head that you didn’t even notice how the band isn’t playing anymore and instead everyone’s swooning over the cake

it’s lost in you that hoseok’s shooed yoongi from his chair, sitting right beside you and even scooting closer until his knees bump to your own

and that’s when it sinks in

hobi doesn’t even have time to tell you how beautiful you look because you’ve gone straight to seething him

“for the record, i want you to know that i hate you.”

...

okay hoseok didn’t expect that

for all he knows, the two of you even vOWED to never say the h word even if it’s meant jokingly!!

it’s a lethal word and the two of you collectively agreed to never play with it in regards to saying to one another

but well here you are

you’re saying it as if you’ve never been more sure of anything in your whole life

you feel actually relieved to say it to him right to his face, a miniscule weight lifted from your shoulders while your arms are crossed just by looking at him

hoseok does you one better with a timid chuckle, looking down on his rings that he’s fiddling with nervously

“yeah. i hate me too.”

.... oh

you’re perplexed at his reply so much so that you’re speechless

you’ve been keeping to yourself what you should say to him the moment you see him for two years and now that he agrees to what you’ve just said.,.,.,

oh fuck that

“i hate you so much, hoseok! i don’t even know what i did wrong and i asked even your own mother what’s wrong with me! did you know that you are, without a doubt, so fucking selfish???”

you exclaim as quietly as you could but that doesn’t stop people from glancing because the two most-known people in the room, besides the bride and groom, are having what seems to be an... intimate conversation with how close the two of you are??

“did you even try once to consider how painful it was for me to wonder why i just am the way that i am? or is that even too big of an inconveniece for you to think about because you’re so busy?”

“did you suddenly get too big for me, huh?” you ask straightly without malice, not even thinking about the double meaning because clearly, you’re too PRESSED lightly jabbing your finger to his chest

right he deserves that

hoseok’s fucked up big-time, that much he knows

his eyes are actually stinging right now and he would ask you for your handkerchief that you used to always carry for him but uH he thinks he doesn’t deserve any of that

“why couldn’t you just tell me what was in your mind? you know that nothing would change whatever it was that-”

“i love you, okay?”

hoseok interrupts you with his mumble before he sets his eyes down once again on your watch

you’re speechless for long this time

“..... w-what?”

okay maybe he fucked up even more

“listen i-...”

“if you love me, a single text wouldn’t have hurt, hobi!!”

your chest doesn’t hurt anymore but it iS constricting with the amount of emotions and scenarios you’re trying to process

he’s kinda lost because oh my god you aren’t mAD anymore!!

and you don’t look fazed that he just declared his love for you

“i dropped you because i-i — i don’t want the people i love seeing me fuck up, y’know? i finished uni for the sake of it, and i didn’t even know if the band thing would work out!!”

“but baby it dID work out!!!!”

jesus christ hoseok may be a fucking iDIOT

you’re shaking him by the shoulders and he actually has to stand up so he wouldn’t fall by your ministrations

you feel so happy because your processing was just about to be finished, equal parts relieved and happy and maybe a tiny bit confused still

“it did work out because look at you now!! hobi, you could’ve just called me and i would’ve accepted the call before it even rings!!” you’re happily frustrated with him that you push him until the two of you are in the dance floor, his mouth curving up both in disbelief and giddiness

“i didn’t because i thought-...”

he’s interrupted by a swift and tight hug to his middle, his arms moving on their own to envelope you in his warmth

the top of your head still smells the same :D

his purpose is lost before he gathers his bearings once again, freezing in his stance before weakly attempting to push you off

“... you were married.”

the harsh sQUINT of your eyes you’re giving him prompt him to explain

why is he so nervous

“i-i go to your instagram? and well you uh, you posted this pic of you in the middle of the aisle???? you had your back turned and your silhouette’s seen then you were holding a bouquet!!! then after that, i-i never opened your account. jesus christ, is your husband here with you, y/n? what am i supposed to-...”

the realization’s starting to sink into hoseok because it’s something he’s shoved to the back of his head and now he’s seeing it straight-on

you’re throwing your head back laughing at him :D

great

now he’s both heartbroken AND a fool

there’s a gentle kiss on his cheek, one he didn’t expect and one he doesn’t hate

“i’m a wedding planner.”

god now this is just so fucking funny

the two of you fell out and remained distanced because of just a series of unprecedented miscommunications!!!

the whole thing is so ridiculous that it actually feels light and relieving to talk about

“you’re.... a wedding planner,” he mumbles once again for confirmation, his loose arms around your waist now tightening

oh my god

hoseok starts chuckling to himself out of delight, turning to full-on cackles with you at how much the two of you have just been beside each other like parallel lines

“i need to make up the past two years to you.”

he declares seriously as a promise, pressing a tender wet kiss to your cheek that gets you giggling

“only if you write me a song,” you do him one better, kissing him on the corner of his mouth

“don’t you know that most of them are about you? anyways, you should plan our wedding once it happens,” he’s forward with his words, having waited long enough that he nuzzles his nose to yours

you’re gonna do him one even better

you’re gonna go right for the kill, the truth spilling out of you before you kiss him longingly, for the first time that it feels that it’s been something you’ve always yearned for

“don’t you know that you’re in my mind for every single one?”

#feedback pls and thank you :D YEEEEET LAST PIECE FOR 2020!!!!#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #hoseok drabble #hoseok drabbles #hoseok au #hoseok oneshot #hoseok oneshots #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok angst #hoseok angst imagine #hoseok fluff #hoseok fluff imagine #hoseok fluff imagines #hoseok fic rec #hoseok fic recs

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solomonish · 3 years ago

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HI PUBONIC BLAGUE HERE AND I AM EXPERIENCING THE SHRIMP COLORS OF LUCIMON. Okay actually like first of all hi hi hello, missed u much, hope u been well. I had a most excellent time reading the wonderful content you've posted recently too btw, so thank you for slapping some wind back in my sails, and also more importantly as someone else with a limited quantity of mental silverware I just wanted to add as long as it's not too weird that I hope you've been extra special kind to yourself too. you're a special sort of lovely and deserve the best of everything that makes you smile 🥺❤️. ALSO OKAY "FALLEN GOLDEN BOYS" SMACKED ME WITH A BRICK AND CALLED ME A BITCH. I am in galaxy brain with these two like can you IMAGINE. their mutual-but-different beef with archangle mikey ALONE is riddled with enough possibilities to send me Over The Edge, but the quiet self destruction and workaholism?? the repressed trauma and the carrying of the whole world despite it?? the always thinking of others first and holding everyone at arms' length while desperately yearning to be held?? OOMPH. and okay the violently, poetically foiled ways in which they cope with all of that + everything else i'M [insert favorite dinosaur noise here]. they're even literally yin-yang colored I'm in shambles. anyway if the third eye counts as a window to the soul you could fit a whole beelzebub thru mine right now so thank you for posting that ask you have unlocked an Entire new plane of existence for me. now if u exist me I am going to lay face down on the floor and continue to burn within the cockles of how outRAGEOUSLY romantic the lucimon scenario from that very same ask is. like "lucifer being heartbreakingly gentle with solomon and helping him calm down post the latter finally breaking even tho solomon imploding/exploding/crumbling even would be terrifying beyond measure" JEEZE LOUISE-

Bxhdjdic thank you for the well wishes pb! Its nothing big im just super tired recently and just. You know. All that haha but I hope you've been well too and I'm glad I was able to sort of revitalize you!!

But YEAH the fallen golden boys got me too! And I mean we can go fluffy and have that be a source of solace or we can go angst and have one of them (probably lucifer @ solomon) be like "ok but he isn't fallen entirely. Why has he not been damned and yet I have?" and have it be angst 😏

God but just like imagine when they first realize that there may be Feelings thrown into the mix. Like Lucifer and Solomon are having a verbal showdown or something and Asmo, frustrated that his story was interrupted, groans and is just like "Yeesh I could cut your guys' tension like a knife why don't you kiss and make up already" grumbling under his breath

And Lucifer and Solomon just stop and they play it off as like "what an inappropriate thing to say" but really they both have a nervous feeling in their stomach because 1) they may or may not be picking up on the fact that their crush is right in front of them and 2) crush??? Wait no??? I didn't sign up for this?? This is terrible wait hold on

The yin yang thing.....I didn't even notice.....I'm sold....

So I guess welcome to solomonish dot tumblr dot com everybody where Solomon's harem includes not just every Solostan MC but apparently every single member of the Obey Me cast

#lucimon #asked and answered #lucifer #solomon #pubonic blague anon

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gureishi · 4 years ago

Text

Hi hello hi.

I’ve got a bunch of wonderful prompts sitting in my inbox but I was feeling anxious af yesterday and today I had to go to a freakin Zoom funeral and my anxiety brain instead spewed out...this.

I was watching a playthrough of the Forgive ending to try and sort out the timeline for the Jihyun request I’m writing (which I should be posting tomorrow~ <3) and then I started thinking about the disturbing little hints that are in there about depressed Saeyoung and alcohol, and then my anxiety said I needed to write about it. So I transposed that thought into another timeline so my boy could have an mc cause god knows otherwise it would get way worse.

I know alcohol is a really sensitive topic when it pertains to the Choi twins because of their trauma relating specifically to alcohol and alcoholism. To be super super clear, drinking can be fine and okay and not harmful for lots of people, but that’s not the type of drinking I’m portraying here.

YEESH, I’ll stop rambling. Cw for alcohol abuse; if Saeyoung drinking alcohol is gonna be triggering for you please skip this one. Take care of yourself I love you <3

wanna be ok

The bunker is dark when you get home, and that is your first sign that something is wrong.

You’re off work a little early, and you fully expected to find the house bright and full of energy. Usually at this time, there would be at least one brother in the living room. There’d be a half-built robot croaking gibberish in a corner or an inexplicable mess from some overly enthusiastic project in the hall.

But when the door slides open (greeting you by name, of course), you’re met with darkness and a startling, eerie quiet. Could they both have fallen asleep…? You check your watch. It’s just after nine.

“Saeyoung…?” You slip off your shoes, calling quietly in case he really is asleep. He hasn’t been sleeping much since his father’s investigation began, waking up at night and pacing the house. Sometimes he does fall asleep at the computer, even these days…

No answer. You peek into the darkened living room. Nothing. No light from his office or the bedroom, either.

You hear a noise and spin, senses on high alert. All your instincts telling you that something is certainly off, you peer warily around the corner.

He’s in the kitchen.

“Babe?”

He’s perched precariously on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. His arms are everywhere, splayed over the scrubbed wood; he’s slumped over, head in the crook of his elbow. His hair is mussed as though he’s been running his hands through it.

None of this surprises you too much—it’s much a difficult few days. But what does startle you is the stale, harsh smell in the air. There’s a bottle on the counter that looks suspiciously like…

Dread settles in your stomach like hot lead.

You call his name again, some foolishly optimistic part of your mind hopeful that this is an off-color prank. But this isn’t the kind of thing he jokes about.

At the sound of his name, he stirs, lifts his head. As he does, he slips to the side, almost falling off the stool—catching himself at the last minute on the island.

He blinks at you blearily, as if he’s trying to get you into focus, and you know in that moment that he’s not messing with you.

“Hiii, babe,” he slurs, his voice thick. He tries to say your name, stumbles over it. Laughs at himself.

“Honey.” You approach him cautiously. Closer up, the smell is unmistakable—it’s whiskey, mingling with his natural spicy-sweet scent in a way that you find particularly unsettling. “What did you do?”

He tries to spin around in the stool to face you and nearly falls again—you have to reach out an arm to grab him. He gazes at you dizzily, his eyes glazed over.

“Wha’ d’you mean?” he mumbles, his words running together. He sways dangerously on the stool and you put a hand on his shoulder, bracing him. Out of the corner of your eye, you peer at the bottle beside him—it’s one you’d gotten as a gift ages ago and put away in a closet. It’s more than half empty.

“Baby, why did you drink that?” You shift, taking his face in both your hands; he’s unstable again without your hand on his shoulder. You turn him, make him look you in the eye—and he tries, he tries, but his gaze slides over your face as though he can’t quite focus on it.

“You’re pretty,” he sings, and he leans forward as if to kiss you—and misses, his head falling onto your shoulder. “Missed,” he says, giggling. His hands reach clumsily for your waist.

It would be almost cute, you think, under other circumstances. If it weren’t Saeyoung, who doesn’t drink alcohol. Who’s promised himself never to drink alcohol—and for good reason.

He presses his lips against your neck, tilting sideways as he does so. Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. You know how to deal with drunk people, under normal circumstances. Just pretend it’s not Saeyoung. Just for now.

“Come with me, baby,” you say, expertly evading his grasp and offering him both your hands. “Let’s go sit somewhere a little more comfy, okay?”

“Don’wanna,” he mumbles, titling to the right. “Comfy here.”

“You’ll be comfier on the couch, I promise.” You keep your voice light. Taking both his hands, you give a gentle tug, and he obliges you, sliding off the stool without any of his usual grace or agility. He sways as he lands on his feet and you brace him with both hands again, waiting till his gaze clears.

You lead him to the living room and he comes obediently, albeit stumblingly.

“…m’too drunk for this,” he mutters, laughing at himself as he narrowly avoids running face-first into the door frame.

“Too drunk to walk to the living room?” You guide him more carefully now. Most people would be well and truly messed up from the amount that he drank—based on your cursory assessment of the kitchen, anyway. For him—someone who has, to your knowledge, quite literally never consumed alcohol before—it’s astonishing he’s even still conscious.

You steer him to the couch. He hesitates and you turn to him—his face has gone pale, and he claps a hand over his mouth.

“M’gonna…never mind.” He shuts his eyes.

With some difficulty, you get him onto the couch. He slides sideways immediately and you slip a pillow under his head. He smiles a sloppy, lopsided grin.

“…galaxy,” he murmurs, sinking heavily into the pillow. You don’t question it.

Confident that he’s not going anywhere, you make your way back to the kitchen, fill a big glass with water. Now that you’re alone, your hands are shaking.

It’s not the end of the world to get drunk, but it’s certainly less than great to do it alone. It’s worse, though, so much worse, because it’s him—because of the promise he made to himself, because of the memories of his mother’s violence, because of the fear you know he has of those same genes manifesting in him.

You know that the last few days have been difficult, that the trial’s brought up memories he’d long repressed. But you wouldn’t ever have anticipated…this.

What could possibly have happened?

You take in the havoc in the kitchen: in addition to the whiskey bottle, there’s a glass knocked over on its side as well as the usual debris from chips and other junk food. One of the stools is on the ground.

And where, you think suddenly, is Saeran?

You take a deep, steadying breath—care now, you remind yourself. Figure out the rest later.

When you return to the living room with the water, he’s crying.

His eyes are shut tight and he’s wrapped both arms around the pillow; there are tear tracks on his cheeks and as you approach he lets out a quiet, pitiful sob.

“Sweetheart…” You kneel beside him and he wriggles toward you like a wounded animal. You bring a hand to his face and wipe away the tears and he clumsily throws out one arm and dangles it over your body.

“Drink a little bit of this, please, love.” You tilt the cup toward his mouth and he opens his lips the tiniest bit. You get a little water in him; most of it ends up on the couch.

“…still hates me,” he mutters, pushing aside the cup, nuzzling his face into your chest. You stroke his messy, tangled hair with your free hand, pulling it off his forehead.

“Who does, baby?”

“Saeran…does.”

You run your fingers over his feverish skin; his cheeks are flushed and his forehead is warm to the touch.

“Saeran doesn’t hate you, honey. I promise he doesn’t.” You try again with the water. It’s a little more successful this time.

“Does. We hadda…fight,” he slurs. “Gotta…find’m.” Defying all logic, he tries to sit up again, using your shoulders for leverage. Even in this state, he’s stubborn as hell.

“Where is he?” you ask, not sure if Saeyoung will even be able to tell you. You help him wriggle into a sitting position, thinking it’s perhaps safer than lying down after all.

“Walk,” he murmurs. He’s trying to look at you again, his eyes wandering over your face. “Babe! Your face’s…blurry.”

You sigh. It’s not out of the ordinary Saeyoung to push Saeran too far, or for Saeran to snap at him and go for a walk to clear his head. You wonder if the confluence of circumstances—the trial, both twins’ tensions running extra high, the memories Saeyoung associates with his family and raised voices and a dark, empty house—led to this turn of events.

One of the cameras near the door flickers to life—someone’s coming into the garage. You sit up stick straight. Saeran was just on a walk—he couldn’t have gone far. Which means…

“Baby, I’m so sorry, but I need you to move again.”

He groans and mutters something you don’t understand, but you have no time to waste. Glad you’ve already got him sitting, you slide your hands under both his arms and pull. He sags like a rag doll, but he doesn’t weigh a lot, and you’re strong—you tug him to a standing position and he sways dangerously in place, his face pale again.

“Can’t,” he moans, and you don’t have time to pity him. You simply can’t risk the consequences—for both brothers—of Saeran finding him like this.

“C’mon, sweetheart, please try to walk. For me.” You kiss him firmly on the cheek and he perks up a little, reaching for you. You take both his hands again and walk backwards, guiding him to the bedroom.

“No more…” he moans, but you get him down the hall and into the room, giving the corners a wider berth this time.

Panting, you deposit him on the bed.

“…spinning,” he mutters, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I swear I will be right back,” you gasp, and you run from the room before he can respond. You sprint to the kitchen, sweep the whiskey bottle into the cabinet under the sink. You dump the glass and throw it under there too for good measure. You right the stool, leaving the chips bags—that’s normal enough.

But the smell…

You hastily grab your bag, which you’d dropped on the floor earlier when you’d found him here—pull out the little bottle of perfume you carry, spritz it liberally over the kitchen island. You inhale. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

You throw open the big window over the sink and, bag under your arm, slink back to your bedroom. As the bedroom door is shutting behind you, you hear the security system beeping, the front door sliding open. Just in time.

You spin around. Now where is…?

A soft moan from the en suite bathroom answers your question. You peer through the dark—sure enough, he’s sprawled on the ground, head bent over the toilet. The fact that he’s managed to drag himself there is impressive. You sigh—this was inevitable and is probably for the best.

You sit with him there for a long time: pressing a cool, wet washcloth to his head, plying him with tiny sips of water when you can. He apologizes to you again and again in a raw, miserable voice; you stroke his hair and rub his back and promise him that he’s going to be okay.

Eventually he slumps into your lap and, almost incoherently, whispers the word “bed.” So you hoist him up again, arms around his torso; he tries valiantly to help you, stumbling through the doorway, over the carpeted floor. You guide him onto the bed and he practically melts into it, his breathing immediately slowing, deepening.

You get him as comfortable as you can—wresting his jeans off and casting them aside, tucking the blankets all the way around him. He murmurs groggily as you press a soft kiss to his forehead and then he’s out, chest moving slowly up and down, face peaceful.

You’d never know, you think.

You retrieve his glasses from the bathroom floor, fold them neatly on the bedside table. And then, steeling yourself, you slip through the bedroom door as quietly as you can, tiptoe down the hall. As you’d suspected, Saeran is still in the living room.

“Hey,” he says, lifting his eyes from the book he’s reading. He’s draped over the couch, white hair tousled. He’s turned on a lamp—the dim light illuminates the red roots that are just starting to grow in.

“Hi,” you say. For something to do, you fetch the cup of water you’d left on the floor earlier. Saeran doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“We had a fight,” he offers, unprompted. He drums his fingers on his book—the same nervous habit his brother has. “Did he tell you?”

“Um…sort of.” You put the cup on a side table. Nervously straighten one of the fluffy throw blankets.

“I was mean,” Saeran says bluntly. “I shouldn’t have been.”

You perch on the arm of the couch. Once, he would have flinched away from you; now, he watches you impassively, green eyes unreadable.

“Was it about the trial?” you ask, with some hesitation.

Saeran shrugs. “I guess. He keeps all the TVs in the house on all day. I can’t stand hearing our father’s voice anymore.”

“Right.” You know this—know that the ongoing trial is wearing on them both, know that they’re coping in their own ways.

“Is he…” Saeran looks down and back up at you; his eyes are bright. “Is he mad?”

You take a shaky breath. “No,” you say honestly. “But he feels bad that you fought.”

“Should I talk to him?”

He is still looking at you. You’re surprised—he’s never asked you for advice before.

“Maybe in the morning,” you say, perhaps a little too firmly—but Saeran is unfazed.

“I get it,” he says. “I’m gonna go back to reading now.”

You smile, grateful as always for Saeran’s manner. There’s no risk of overstaying your welcome, because he’ll always tell you when he’s done.

“Good night,” you say. He looks up at you again, gives you a tiny smile.

“Night.”

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

You wake abruptly the next morning. Through the haze of half-dream, half-wakefulness, you hear an intrusive rustling sound—then clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Your eyes shoot open.

“Saeyoung…?” you murmur, the events of the previous night momentarily evading you. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, see a blur of red hair in your peripheral vision.

He’s…cleaning?

“Oh god.” His golden eyes go huge with panic as he sees that you’re awake. He drops the mop (why was it clunking?) and throws himself onto the bed, kneeling beside you. “Hi. Good morning. Um. I am. So, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. I mean, I—uh. Gah. I practiced this. Hang on—”

“Shhh.” You put a finger to his lips, pushing yourself up in bed. He sits back on his heels like a guilty puppy, eyes huge, waiting for a scolding. “So you remember last night, huh?”

His cheeks match his hair. He lowers his gaze.

“I am so, so, so, so…”

“Hush.” You take his face in both hands again, just as you’d done the night before. Tilt it up, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You don’t need to apologize to me. But I would like to know how it happened.”

He hangs his head, one red curl falling into his eyes. You brush it away.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “You know I’ve never done that before. Right?”

“Yes, I know.” You slip out of the blankets and sit cross-legged, facing him. “Do you remember why you did it? Why you went looking for the whiskey that I didn’t even think you knew was in the storage closet?”

“I’d known where it was for a while,” he says softly, shamefully. “I found it one day when I was looking for an old hard drive and I guess I thought, wow, glad I know that’s there in case I ever lose my mind.”

This surprises you. You didn’t know he’d ever give it any thought at all.

“I wasn’t seriously thinking I was gonna drink it!” he says hurriedly, his cheeks growing—if it were possible—redder. “It was like a…weird, bad joke. Like, haha, what a great way to escape my mind if I ever hate myself that much. I…dunno.”

You make yourself take a deep breath. You hate it when he says things like this. “Okay, fine. So why did you…?”

“I fought with Saeran,” he says, still looking down. He twiddles his hands in his lap, fiddles with the blanket. “It was stupid. We were just tense about the trial. And then he left, and it got dark, and I was alone, and I just couldn’t…stop thinking about her.”

“Your mother.”

“Yeah.”

He taps a pattern on his thigh, too fast, too hard. You take his hand, wrapping up his fingers in yours. He shoots you a grateful glance.

“It’s hard to explain,” he mutters. “It was like I was possessed. It was this feeling, like if I could…get inside her head somehow, I’d understand.”

“Understand what?” You realize you’re squeezing his hand too hard and you make a conscious effort to loosen your grip.

“Why she didn’t love us,” he says simply. You look up; there are tears in his eyes again. Automatically you reach for him, catching a tear on your fingertip. You kiss it away.

“Did you?” you ask quietly. Slowly, he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I ever will.”

“Oh, Saeyoung…” You hold open your arms for him and he bows his head, falling into you. You cradle his head against your chest, kiss the tears from his eyelashes.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“You are a wonderful man, and you deserve the world,” you say firmly. You wrap your arms all the way around his waist and squeeze him tight and he exhales, like he’s letting out breath he’s been holding for a long time.

“I’ll never do it again,” he says, his voice muffled by your shirt. “I promise. I mean it.”

You thoughtfully run your fingers through his curls, de-tangling them, pulling them apart one by one. “Can I ask you something I’ve asked you before?” you say tentatively. He nods; you can feel it. “Would it be okay if I just…got some names? My therapist offered to make a list for you before, you know, and you don’t need to commit to anything, but I just—”

“Yes.” He pulls back enough to peer up at you. There are tear tracks on his cheeks again but his expression is sure. “I’d like that.”

His eagerness takes you by surprise. You smile and kiss the tip of his nose.

“Thank you.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “I’m meant to be the one thanking you. You shouldn’t have had to take care of me last night. You should’ve just left me there.”

“Never.” You take a deep breath and he breathes with you, exhaling against your lips, tickling you. “Now would you please explain to me what the hell you were doing that woke me up this morning?”

He giggles, a little guiltily—still, you’re relieved to hear him laugh. “I felt like crap, both physically and emotionally. I thought I could start apologizing by…”

“Slamming the mop against the wall?”

“I don’t…actually know how to use a mop.”

That makes you laugh, and it feels good, like a release. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you.

“You’re gonna be okay?” you whisper. He nods, gazing at you reverently.

“Because of you,” he says. He strokes your hair with his long, thin fingers—cautiously, gently, like he needs reassurance that you’re still there. “I’m gonna be okay.”

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #saeyoung choi #707 #cw drinking #cw alcohol abuse

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lefaystrent · 6 years ago

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Welcome to the Neighborhood part 2

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: Prinxiety?

Summary: Virgil’s really bad at peopling, or so his new neighbors find out.

Chapter Navigation: part one part three

Notes: I didn’t plan to continue this, but a lot of people liked it? So here’s some more of this absurd little comedy.

AO3 Link

Early one morning before the sun had yet to rise, Virgil was lounging on the roof munching on some Cheetos.

“How did you even get up there?”

Virgil most definitely did not yelp. He let out a manly grunt of surprise at the figure on the ground who managed to sneak up on him. It was one of the new neighbors, Roman. He wore shorts, sneakers, and a tank top, looking like he was about to go for a morning jog.

He also stood there grinning, and Virgil didn’t think he imagined the movie star twinkle that came with it.

Virgil slowly pointed a finger at him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Sneak up on me. People die that way.”

Roman threw back his head and laughed. It annoyed Virgil so he tossed a Cheetos at his stupid perfect face. Roman batted the projectile away easily.

“Do you always sit around eating chips?” Roman asked benignly.

Virgil shrugged, frowning down into his nearly empty bag. When did that happen? “Nah, when I’m in the backyard I eat Oreos.”

“Of course,” Roman nodded sagely. “Where else would one eat Oreos?”

“Exactly. You so get me.”

Roman watched him for a moment as he upended the bag to pour the rest of the chips into his mouth. “So why the roof?”

Virgil swallowed his mouthful. “I thought my gargoyle aesthetic was pretty self-explanatory, but I guess not.”

“Gargoyle?”

“I’m a gothic gay disaster. Is there any other reason someone like me would be chilling on a roof other than to emulate a gargoyle?”

“When it comes to you, I’m finding that there are infinite possibilities to the reasons why you do things and none of them I would have ever guessed.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. He probably would have appeared more threatening without the cheesy crumbs littering his mouth, but whatever. It was all about the eyes yo. “I can’t tell if that was an insult or a compliment.”

With a flourish, Roman straightened and gestured to himself. “Coming from a writer such as myself? Yes, it was most definitely a compliment.”

“Hm,” Virgil hummed noncommittally. He balled up the chip bag, relishing in the sound of the plastic crumbling. He threw a leg over the roof’s edge to hang in the air casually.

The chill in the air nipped at his cheeks. Had he not been dressed in his usual hoodie, it’d probably be cold. He wondered if Roman was cold, standing down there in shorts and no sleeves. He didn’t look cold, expression one of interest as he was content to stand there.

Virgil wanted to ask him about his work, what kind of things he wrote, because truthfully Virgil would have took one look at him and never thought ‘writer’. Instead, he blurted, “Weren’t you going to go, like, do jock stuff?”

“I was, but then I found a cute little kitten stuck up on a roof,” Roman said with a smile so sweet that his eyes smiled too. “Oh, I’m sorry, I meant cute little gargoyle.”

“Damn right I am,” Virgil said confidently, not feeling confident in the slightest, but Roman didn’t have to know that. As it was, Virgil called on the powers of God and anime to will away any inkling of a blush that might dare to tinge his corpse pale cheeks. He didn’t exactly prepare to be flirted with this morning by his hot neighbor.

Oh God.

Wait.

. . . was his hot neighbor actually flirting with him?

Okay, okay Virgil. Don’t be a dweeb. It’s not like you’re so socially repressed that you barely leave the house and work from home and nobody has flirted with you since high school except that that love letter wasn’t actually supposed to go in your locker in the first place and you didn’t realize until after you asked them out, talk about childhood trauma, yeesh—

“Virgil?” Roman asked.

He snapped violently out of his memories, responding too loudly, “Yeah! I’m here!” And really? ‘I’m here?’ Virgil briefly contemplated whether or not Roman would be alarmed if he tried to choke himself on the balled up Cheetos bag.

“I was just going to ask if you made a habit of sitting on the roof every morning,” Roman inquired. “It’d be nice to see a friendly face before I head out on my morning runs.”

“Uh, yeah, I watch the sunrise every morning so—” He slapped a hand over his mouth. Oh fuck, he didn’t mean to say that.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “You watch the sunrise?” he asked, and yeah, it was time for Virgil to yeet himself from the roof.

“Uh, I mean,” he floundered for some response that didn’t make him look like the flowery sap he truly was. “I sit up on the roof every morning to glare at the sun.”

“To . . . glare at the sun?”

“Yeah, just in case he gets any bright ideas,” he punned without thinking and he deadass would have actually jumped from the roof after that if Roman hadn’t chuckled good-naturedly and rolled with it.

“Can’t have that, now can we? All of us mere mortals are indebted to you and your bravery.”

“Well, uh, yeah,” Virgil said and finger-gunned at him.

God help him, he couldn’t stop.

The sky had lightened by this point. The first sun rays pierced through the cool fog haunting the suburban streets. Roman glanced towards the backyard where the orange haze originated. In that moment, with the soft breeze lifting his wavy brown locks, Virgil wondered why on earth Roman had settled for being a scriptwriter and not an actor.

“You know . . .” Roman began, lips tugging up and eyes warming in the sun’s glow. “I like to ‘glare’ at the sunrise too, on occasion. It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

Virgil wasn’t sure why, but he felt the urge to hug his knees to his chest. “Um, yeah . . . It’s nice.”

Roman didn’t seem to mind his weird quirks. He didn’t belittle or laugh at him, nor did he run away. It was a lot more than what Virgil expected when he heard they were getting new neighbors.

“It’s a nice sight to see before you sleep,” Virgil admitted. “I usually go to bed afterwards.”

“Then surely you have the sweetest of dreams,” Roman smiled at him.

Virgil snorted and threw the crumbled up Cheetos bag at him. “Just because you’re a writer doesn’t give you an excuse to talk like a dork.”

“On the contrary, it gives me all the more reason!” he declared. “And honestly, darling, you must stop with the throwing of chip bags at people. Aren’t gargoyles supposed to be symbols of protection?”

“I’m protecting my sanity.”

Roman laughed in a carefree way that made Virgil want to smile too. However, the front door to Roman’s house opened and his roommate shuffled out. The bespectacled man looked ready to head out for work but paused upon seeing them.

“Oh, good, Virgil,” Logan called out.

Virgil stiffened. Never in his life had he wanted to be an actual gargoyle more than he did now, because currently he was unable to ward off the evil coming right for him.

“Virgil, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you,” Logan said, stopping beside Roman.

“I’m sorry, my people need me, I must go,” Virgil said, moving to crawl to the other side of the roof.

“Wait, please, I’m afraid we got off on the wrong start—”

“What gave you that idea?”

“You threw a chip bag at my face.”

Roman placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “It’s a sign of affection really.”

Logan shook his head. “I only wanted to extend an invitation to you and your roommate to join us for dinner sometime, in the hopes that we can get better acquainted.”

“Or so you can lure us into your evil lair.”

“Virgil, I am not a vampire.”

“That’s just what a vampire would say!” Virgil hissed.

“Virgil, please.”

Virgil thrust out a finger to point at him accusingly. “If you’re not a vampire, I demand proof.”

“I . . .” Logan looked down at himself and then up at the sun shining directly on them. He glanced at Roman beseechingly.

“You heard the man,” Roman said with a teasing grin. “Prove it.”

The light of hope dulled in Logan’s eyes. “I know where you sleep at night, Prince.”

Roman’s eyes went comically wide. “Good Heavens, he’s out for blood! Is that a glimpse of fang I spy? Virgil, dearest, run now before it’s too late!”

“Roman!” Logan surged forward but was a second too late. Roman had already fled, cackling down the sidewalk as he ran with Logan hot on his tail.

Virgil watched them go, contemplating whether or not he should take a bath before he hit the hay. From beside him, his walkie-talkie crackled.

“Virgil, honey, did you eat the last of my Cheetos?”

Virgil eyed the device and considered the benefits of living on the roof from now on.

“I know you’re on the roof. I can smell your guilt from here. I won’t hesitate bitch.”

Tag list: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @roman-red-aesthetic @joyful-milkshake-observation @lizziepopanime @ab-artist (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this story’s tag list)

#sanders sides #virgil #virgil sanders #roman #roman sanders #logan #logan sanders #remy #remy sanders #prinxiety #humor #comedy #fluff #writing #fanfiction #welcome to the neighborhood

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thekingofkeepers · 6 years ago

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DISCLAIMER: I am not hating on/bashing any ship, that was never the intention of this post, I strongly stand by my opinion that people can ship whatever they want, even if I personally do not condone said ship (which is not the case for this particular case). This post is meant as a mere analysis/opinion of things I've gathered during my watchthroughs/gameplays of the series. Also excuse the lack of screenshots, I'm writing this on mobile and the episodes I have downloaded are all subbed in spanish, I'll try to point out the exact episodes if I remember them if you want to look into what I'm saying.

Now onto the actual post under the read more

So, something I've seen a lot around is this interpretation of Sakuma as having some big crush on Kidou and only eye(s) for him, which tends to turn him into some jealous guy in denial and living in misery when this crush happens to be one sided (which as a side note, is pretty much every fanfic I've found, why can't he be happy too he deserves it-) and this interpretation just... feels pretty wrong to me?

Just for starters, it's a well established trait of his character that he has some self esteem issues. What is the root of these problems? It's Kidou himself. Let's take a look at the Shin Teikoku match for example. Kidou begs Sakuma to never use the koutei penguin 1go again (ep 38), knowing how destructive it is for the user's body. What was Sakuma's immediate answer? Asking Kidou if he was scared of being surpassed by someone like him. And sure, one might argue that the Aliea meteorite shard Fudou was using had enough of an effect on him to make him do that, but the meteorite's powers could only work with something that was already there, it didn't completely alter the person affected (for example, Fudou was still nearly the same asshole without it in season 3, just more harmless/not actively pushing teammates to destroy themselves, Saginuma was still competitive and decided to crush his opponents, but not on the 'let's beat them up so badly they don't get up again' level). At most, the meteorite could only amplify those negative feelings Sakuma already had from the start, which is what pushed him to almost destroy himself the way he did.

I went on a bit of a tangent there, but returning to the point: with that first sentence, it's already easy to guess that Sakuma has some inferiority complex towards Kidou. Everything he says later in the same episode about Kidou? It only further drives this home. To Sakuma, Kidou and the way he could lead the Teikoku team represented an ideal of power. When Kidou joined the Raimon, there was a void left in the Teikoku team and it had to be filled. Sakuma was already stuck behind Kidou and walking into his shadow before, but after Kidou left it became painfully obvious how big was the gap between them. In his eyes, Kidou was in a league of his own, and he couldn't help the team the way Kidou did no matter how hard he tried.

Now, all of this is already pretty bad on its own, and with the kind of person Sakuma is it's very likely he never really talked about it with anyone (repression isn't healthy kids). With the meteorite thrown into the mix? The thing screwed Sakuma over so much it pretty much turned this inferiority complex into an obsession to reach Kidou's level, or to see the world through his eyes, as he says. A kid obsessed with becoming stronger and so deeply rooted insecurities, with his common sense and inhibitions removed? A recipe for disaster, aka koutei penguin 1go. To him in that state of mind, using that hissatsu was the only way to reach Kidou's level- which again, not healthy. For many reasons. We don't really need to explain those, honestly.

This is a bit more of a personal opinion/speculation, but in the previous episode (37), Sakuma was quite literally trying to severely injure Kidou with multiple shots without showing any kind of regret or remorse. He's just that angry over Kidou having left and bitter over how the Zeus match landed them in the hospital. Maybe it's just me, but if what he felt was a crush instead of self esteem issues/bitterness, he might have acted a bit more... yandere-ish? (And honestly, that season wouldn't really have been above doing this with Fudou's batshit crazy dialogues and god forsaken expressions)

Anyways, by the end of all that disaster, with the influence of the meteorite likely gone (which, personal opinion only, but I think it might've had lasting effects considering how the Epsilon recharged and when it started fading away needed to go back for it, but that's for another post), Sakuma tells Kidou that he made him open his eyes... but that might not really be it, considering he never reacted to anything Kidou said during the match. Sakuma had to almost die destroying himself by his own hand to snap out of it and realize that if he wanted to be as strong as Kidou that wasn't the way to do it. Even with his three shots, he only managed to score once and they didn't even win, it was a tie (and only because the Raimon was busy both keeping him from shooting and Genda from using beast fang), and that only reinforces the realization that both he and Genda were in the wrong (and as a sidenote, I fully believe that the meteorite's influence is what pushed them so far and that without it they would have never resorted to a forbidden hissatsu, but honestly by then they were probably so deep into their guilt they didn't think of it- that and they probably never found out about the meteorite either. Yeesh give them a break).

Another smaller detail (that I hope isn't just me overanalyzing) comes with the Raimon's training to learn Death Zone (ep 56 if I'm not mistaken). When he explains the hissatsu, Kidou mentions that back at the Teikoku, he was the one who managed to calculate the right timing to use it, even if he's never seen using the hissatsu himself or taking part in it. It's implied that without him, they didn't have the correct timing to use one of their most powerful hissatsu. And with all the time spent in the hospital, Sakuma never really had a chance to try using it again without Kidou's help. Sakuma is very smart, sure, but Kidou was the Teikoku genius. While it took the Raimon so little time with Kidou's help to even evolve the Death Zone, it very likely would take longer for the Teikoku without him to master it again. It's just another proof that Kidou is on a different level that Sakuma hasn't managed to reach- which in turn becomes more fuel for his self esteem issues.

T.L.D.R: Sakuma's feelings towards Kidou look a lot more like self esteem issues and an inferiority complex towards Kidou and the ideal of power he represents in Sakuma's eyes rather than a crush thanks for coming to my ted talk

#Inazuma Eleven #sakuma jirou #there we go #i tried

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nostalgicsenpai · 6 years ago

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live blogging SU

(S5, ep 18 - 20. I've been catching up on season 5, I think I've managed to stay away from spoilers for the most part, except the BIG one. Because it's everywhere. But since it's confusing as shit I think I'm still gonna be surprised by the who/what/when/how/why of it all.)

EPISODE 18

pearl is my mom texting me

another pearl inside pearl! it's a pearl gem nesting doll!!

wait, is pearl's consciousness using her cell phone or something?

"I'm very good at compartmentalizing everything" NO SHIT. how do I quantify this understatement??

The fuck is happening rn

WHAT

I DON'T UNDERSTAND EITHER STEVEN

"If this is really my world" "I cant exactly shatter myself" That's the thing!!! It's happening!!! Omg. Rose you lovely dumb bitch what u up to

The amount pearl has been repressing hahaha

THE FLOWER!!!!

WAIT DOES ONLY PEARL KNOW ABOUT ROSE?!? THAT WOULD BE...yeah

OH SITTTTRGHT

SHUT

SHIT

They didn't knooooww

gem family drama time!!!

EPISODE 19

*skips over intro* JUST GIVE ME THE DRAMA

Oh. No

sapphire bb ;_;

"How our relationship was based on a lie? What else is there to say" sapphire NO

RUBY CRYING IS NOT OK BTW

I love pink diamond but she's problematic xD

pink: 'I like earth and the humans on it tho!' Blue, probably: 'Aw ok hun I'll make you a zoo, sounds good yeah??'

Omg rose about fusion "HOW HAVE I NEVER HEARD OF THIS?!" She into it

Sap: "How could she not after you swept her off her feet?" Steven:"you took her on a whirlwind tour of earth and then she wanted to live with you forever" Sap: "That's just how I felt when I came here with ruby"

Pearl:

My Rose/Pearl shipping ass taking note:

LIKE ARE YOU SERIOUS

EPISODE 20 let's GO

Amethyst is the worst babysitter xD

Pearl watching her ship being hit, possibly sinking, in realtime is so accurate "YOU TWO ARE INCREDIBLE TOGETHER IT CAN'T BE OVER"

Amethyst's priorities yeesh

The-they check the ocean FIRST?

Amethyst better be playing me like "I SEEM chill but I'm actually freaking out the most and I'm repressing all negative feelings and covering it with a thin layer of nonchalance bc we all know I deal with things that upset me VERY POORLY also I kinda get it because Im still not processing the rose/pink diamond thing lolololol" Or else in gonna be pissed

Pizza n therapy go hand in hand

Oh here it comes

No Steven. No. Amethyst is not ok bro. Obviously

LET ME HELP YOU WITH YOUR FEELINGS

Steven get in the choppa!!

Serious Steven went to school to become Therapist Steven

"I AM THE DING DONG SUNSHINE FUTURE" Amethyst 2020

Aww. She growing ;-;

"I think you're the most mature crystal gem" amethyst "oooh noooo, gross!"

#su liveblog #steven universe

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typewriterwitch · 6 years ago

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Belligerent Sexual Tension ≠ Predatory Romance

Pop Culture Detective has a great video up called “Predatory Romance in Harrison Ford Movies” in which he dissects the actor’s most iconic characters and their problem believing no means no. It’s a worthwhile video to watch all the way through, but it boils down to the fact that these hyper-masculine characters persist—going so far as to use their physicality—despite clear rejections from their female love interests. And in films like Indiana Jones and Blade Runner and even Star Wars we the audience are primed to be okay with this. These women must secretly want it because, after all, he’s the hero. Pretty gross.

But that got me thinking. We want to like these scenes because, let’s not lie, belligerent sexual tension is hot. Who doesn’t want to see two characters challenge each other? What packs more oomph than characters battling with themselves over whether or not to give in to love? I live for that shit. But, yeesh, the longer I’m alive the more I cannot stand how easily belligerent sexual tension slides into predatory romance. What’s a trope-lover to do?

Luckily, I rewatched The Long Hot Summer (1958) recently and realized, holy shit, this movie from almost sixty years ago actually subverted predatory romance!

This is despite the fact that this film has the male lead joking to a group of good ol’ boys, “A lot of women say no when they mean yes.” On the surface, this movie is about a cold-hearted woman melting for a hot-blooded man. It should be the definition of predatory romance. But it isn’t. Why?

Because this film is a character piece. It’s not after cheap thrills. Based on William Faulkner’s works, the purpose of the film is to poke and prod various social conventions. Clara Varner is repressed, sure, but she also talks frankly about her sexual desires with the man she’s pursuing (and has been for six years, which is how we know she knows deep down he’s wrong for her). Ben Quick makes no secret of the fact that he’s pursuing Clara because she’s the holdout, but it’s also clear that it’s not just the challenge he’s after—he understands and sees her in a way that others in her life don’t bother to.

At the halfway point, we get a scene that has all the hallmarks of predatory romance. The male lead kisses the female lead right after she slaps him. Classic Harrison Ford, right? Except not! Check out the scene here. Without sacrificing the delicious belligerent sexual tension, this scene does a number of things to subvert the predatory romance trope:

The space is large and the door is open. Clara is free to leave.

Ben announces his intentions. He tells her he’s going to kiss her, and he does so from a distance.

“You please me and I’ll please you.” This is an arrogant line, but it’s also an effective seduction because it’s what we know Clara wants. Pleasure.

When Clara smacks him, Ben stops in his tracks. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t move until it’s clear that Clara isn’t moving, either.

Clara never tells him no. She never tries to get away from him and he never tries to stop her.

Ben continues to seduce her with what he knows is troubling her — everyone around her is able to seek out their pleasure, but society and her own (justifiably) high standards bar her from it.

You can see in the small movements she’s making that Ben’s words are affecting her. She’s turned on and fighting it but not fighting him.

At first, Clara stands completely still when Ben kisses her. Then after a moment, we get that romance lover’s dream—she bursts forth with passion. She leans into him. She holds him around the waist.

The camera pans out, revealing that Ben has kept his hands off of her. He hasn’t restrained her in any way. But when she takes hold of him, he takes hold of her right back.

By the same token, when she breaks off the kiss, he breaks off his contact. He steps back. He watches her gain her composure. When it’s clear she’s not up for another kiss, he steps back even further.

“All right,” she says, “you proved it. I’m human.” She’s affected by the kiss, but Clara is nothing if not prideful (and we love her for it). After Ben’s, “Yes, ma’am, you’re human all right,” she lashes out to take his supposed victory away from him with the two words she knows will cut him down.

Ben is furious at her name-calling and the fact that his “Sunday manners” will never be enough to earn him a woman of Clara’s caliber. He’s burning with righteous energy, but the angrier he gets the further he backs away from her.

When Clara runs from him, he lets her go. She’s well away from him before he gives his anger physical force by slamming the door to the shop behind him and breaking glass. He stops at the porch, so we know he wasn’t going to run after her.

I LOVE THIS SCENE. I love that I can love this scene without feeling gross! It’s fraught and messy and complicated and belligerent and tense all without falling into the abusive subtext that lurks in predatory romance.

So, all that to say, feminist romance fans, we can have our cake and eat it, too—we just need to demand better from our media.

#writingjourney #the long hot summer

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blueincandescence · 7 years ago

Text

Belligerent Sexual Tension ≠ Predatory Romance

Pop Culture Detective has a great video up called “Predatory Romance in Harrison Ford Movies” in which he dissects the problems the actor’s most iconic characters have believing no means no. It’s a worthwhile video to watch all the way through, but it boils down to the fact that these hyper-masculine characters persist — going so far as to use their physicality — despite clear rejections from their female love interests. And in films like Indiana Jones and Blade Runner and even Star Wars we the audience are primed to be okay with this. These women must secretly want it because, after all, he’s the hero. Pretty gross.

Luckily, I rewatched The Long Hot Summer today and realized, holy shit, this movie from almost sixty years ago actually subverted predatory romance! This is despite the fact that this film has the male lead joking to a group of good ol’ boys, “A lot of women say no when they mean yes.” On the surface, this movie is about a cold-hearted woman melting for a hot-blooded man. It should be the definition of predatory romance. But it isn’t. Why?

Because this film is a character piece. It’s not after cheap thrills. Based on William Faulkner’s works, the purpose of the film is to poke and prod various social conventions. Clara Varner is repressed, sure, but she also talks frankly about her sexual desires with the man she’s pursuing (and has been for six years, which is how we know she knows deep down he’s wrong for her). Ben Quick makes no secret of the fact that he’s pursuing Clara because she’s “the holdout,” but it’s also clear that it’s not just the challenge he’s after — he understands and sees her in a way that others in her life don’t bother to.

The space is large and the door is open. Clara is free to leave.

Ben announces his intentions. He tells her he’s going to kiss her, and he does so from a distance.

“You please me and I’ll please you.” This is an arrogant line, but it’s also an effective seduction because it’s what we know Clara wants. Pleasure.

When Clara smacks him, Ben stops in his tracks. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t move until it’s clear that Clara isn’t moving, either.

Clara never tells him no. She never tries to get away from him and he never tries to stop her.

Ben continues to seduce her with what he knows is troubling her — everyone around her is able to seek out their pleasure, but society and her own (justifiably) high standards bar her from it.

You can see in the small movements she’s making that Ben’s words are affecting her. She’s turned on and fighting it but not fighting him.

At first, Clara stands completely still when Ben kisses her. Then after a moment, we get that romance lover's dream — she bursts forth with passion. She leans into him. She holds him around the waist.

The camera pans out, revealing that Ben has kept his hands off of her. He hasn’t restrained her in any way. But when she takes hold of him, he takes hold of her right back.

When Clara runs from him, he lets her go. She’s well away from him before he gives his anger physical force — slamming the door to the shop behind him and breaking glass. He stops at the porch, so we know he wasn’t going to run after her.

So, all that to say, feminist romance fans, we can have our cake and eat it, too — we just need to demand better from our media.

#the long hot summer #feminist romance #feminism #romance #romantic tropes #bluesaid

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spotlightsaga · 8 years ago

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Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews… I Love Dick (S01E02) The Conceptual Fuck Airdate: May 12, 2017 @amazonvideo Ratings: @amazon streaming only Score: 8.25/10

***********SPOILERS BELOW**********

Just like the first episode of ‘I Love Dick’, the second is over in a flash. It happens so quickly, so ferociously fast, with these seemingly large events that have a heavy significance on these characters, that they are almost too fast to catch. There’s irony in there somewhere because I can see someone easily professing that not much is happening, but in its characterization so much is transpiring I can almost feel my neck break from the whiplash. The episode opens with who I am assuming to be the two head honchos of the Venice Film Festival where Chris’ film had to be pulled because of music rights. They are attempting to watch the film and it looks straight up awful. It’s a lot like the French-Belgian film referenced in this very episode, Chantal Akerman’s 1974 black and white, supposedly charged with raw feminism ‘Je, Tu, Il, Elle’, just without any kind of hypnotic beat, sensuality, or weird lesbian sex scene where two women wrestle around in the bed, looking like an early WWF Women’s Wrestling Match during Post-Attitude Era when women with actual talent and showmanship were actually in the ring. Sorry, I have really weird, repressed, mixed feelings towards that film. Anyway, the two Italian Men toss it because they can’t take it anymore and then we cut back to Marfa, TX. Prepare for lots of cuts, I am very well aware of the presence of editors Julie Cohen & Christal Khatib.

Again there are some really strange, very human moments in this episode. I personally haven’t read the book, but my bestie in Brooklyn raves about it, even calling it her favorite. I keep going back to three big moments in the episode and I’m running them through my mind trying to figure out where these people are coming from. The first is when Chris shows up and interrupts Dick’s seminar, much to the chagrin of Sylvere, who believes that Chris attempting to attend Dick’s seminar is crossing a line in their fantasy that he’s just not comfortable with. Chris could give two shits, obviously this isn’t really a two way street, and shows up anyway… Later lying to Sylvere about being able to get in, claiming that it was full.

She brings a laptop with her terrible film on it and she’s literally a hot mess, once again a possible reference to 'Je, Tu, Il, Elle’… Her phone goes off, she’s bumbling all over the place, Dick dismisses his class and watches a few seconds of her horrible, horrible film and she legit, *and I can’t get over it*, but she legit strokes his head as he’s bent over watching the film. The gesture, the moment, his response to immediately shut the laptop and tells Chris, 'Its not my thing,’ It all sent me into a sort-of paralyzing shock. WTF just happened? Chris freaks out and points out that he hasn’t made art in 7 years and that brick he had set out as an art piece wasn’t art at all… To which he affirmed his love for straight lines. The rich metaphor isn’t lost on me, I died laughing and am chuckling as I’m writing this but I think it’s a combination of that comment and everything that happened so fast in that scene. My love for it increases with repeat views.

Meanwhile, Sylvere is having his own awkward encounters with the woman he met in the first episode, Toby (India Menuez)… This one I had to watch twice as well. Both Sylvere and Chris might have reinvigorated their sex life with this weird sexual fantasy about the mysterious, straight line loving 'Dick’, but they are tanking in the Marfa social scene. Sylvere questions Toby’s taste in art, finding out that her project is about 'looking at hardcore porn without judgement’, and verbatim, 'So I reduce it to its shapes.’ He takes the judgement further and calls her a child and asks her why she’s obsessed with porn, then reduces her to her beauty. The ironic and stunningly ignorant comment is met with the long pause from Toby, striking facial emotional-responding realization and then she simply tells Sylvere, 'You’re awful.’ And again the scene cuts fast, it’s almost dizzying, like I don’t have time to react. The cut is to a red screen with Chris’ words appearing large in and in charge on the screen, 'Dear Dick, I will not be muzzled.’ Only later when I’m sorting out my feelings on the episode, I find myself laughing at the quick edits, and just slightly tonally jarring direction led by the great Kimberly Pierce (a woman who literally burst on to the scene in '99 with the Oscar Winning 'Boys Don’t Cry’). I don’t even know what to think.

Chris returns home after her disastrous meeting with Dick, finding Devon (Roberta Colindrez) installing a water heater or some sort of handy-woman work (see what I did there?), and after the initial shock that someone is in her house, Chris goes right to ranting. Asking her if she knows who the director Maya Deren is, saying that Maya is supposed to be the most important female director of all time. Devon replies No, which I’m guessing most people wouldn’t know her either. Deren was big in the way Indy Bands are big now, but in the 40’s. I know film pretty well, but Meren is mainly a mystery, and while I’m familiar with a lot of films in the 50’s, they are more of Monster Movie in taste (I love classic, iconic trash 50’s cinema, like 'The Blob’, 'Alligator Man’, 'Them’). Trancey, experimental avant-garde types… No the 40’s would be far too early for me to consume that type of genre, despite its cultural importance.

It’s just hilarious to me to see Chris go on and on about how she likes mainstream directors and hates Sofia Coppola, who I’ve always loved btw… Chris cites Sofia’s 'perfect chestnuts highlights’ as another reason she hates her, 'Ooh, hey, how’d you get that brunette? A lotta money!’ I’m literally dead. 😂 Devon starts to follow her around, she’s literally mesmerized by Chris’ unhinged rant. Chris is now just asking rhetorical questions and ranting on as Devon almost salivates at Chris’ crazy as a pure inhibited spectator, 'It is a wonder that any woman could think of herself as an artist.’ Devon actually responds here… 'Uhm, I’m an artist too, so…’ Chris barely recognizes she spoke, muttering back, 'Oh, I didn’t realize’, like that has any bearing on the conversation that could’ve blossomed from there. I’m usually pretty empathetic but if I wasn’t laughing so hard from her rant and the Sofia Coppola comments, who once again I’ve always been fond of, I probably would have reached through the tv and pulled Chris’ hair a bit. I wonder what kind of rant Chris would produce about the cultural cancer of Oxygen’s 'Bad Girls Club’. In a perfect world, there would be an extra scene that Amazon would allow subscribers to see an outtake of this very scenario.

I guess Chris’ interaction with Dick is so jarring that she starts to rip down all the letters she wrote to Dick from the lines strung across her bedroom. And it appears Chris’ visit to Dick’s class was so jarring we see him sitting on his porch staring intently into the Great wide Texan open, clearly annunciating her name in full, 'Chris Kraus’. The editing is fantastic in these final moments (tho to be fair it’s great the whole way through). We see Devon shirtless, confidently writing as if a lightbulb is literally shining bright above her head. Sylvere somberly mopes back through town to his home. This is when we cut to 'Je, Tu, Il, Elle’ where the protagonist speaks about taking everything she had written and spreading it out, then just laying in bed. Cut to Chris laying in bed looking up at the empty wire dawned with clothespins that once held all the letters to Dick, the same letters that had Sylvere and Chris fucking like they had just met each other. Sylvere walks in professing that he hates the town and tries to sit next to Chris and touch her, but without the letters there is no longer warmth and a red pulsing glow in their bedroom. She jerks away from him and claims her 'skin is tight’. Yeesh.

Suki & Geoff arrive at Devon’s trailer and she reveals what she was fervently writing about… A play… About a couple from New York… A woman… She wants to 'become somebody’… 'But she hates herself’… Another quick cut, God I’m in love with these editors… Chris is packing up all her letters to Dick. Cut to Dick who sees a snake, slithering in the very opposite manner of the straight lines he claims to love so much. He arranges multiple rocks in the shape of the slithering, wavy snake and runs along side of them. Is this Dick beginning to let go of his rigid nature? Cut back to Chris who is walking into Dick Jarrett’s office and drops off a box containing all the letters she had written Dick, and so passionately made love to her husband under. The box is tied with a single ribbon, and there’s a dead moth at one corner of the box with a card… 'To: Dick Jarrett / From: Chris Kraus’… Cut to RED. That’s the perfect color alright.

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