#so i rushed to explain as normally as i could the difference between twitter and public louis tomlinson and louis

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

[sideblog-666-thousand]

A long bitch of an interview with Euronymous, from Orcustus zine in early ‘92.

What is Orcustus? Orcustus was an early 90’s black metal ‘zine run by none other than Bård “Faust*” Eithun— murderous pretty-boy, and o.g Euronymous simp. I think he might have also played drums in a band called Emperor... but I’m not sure! Its full name is actually “Orcustus— The Shadow of The Golden Fire”, and no, I’m not making this up.

This particular issue here opens up with a quote from a short story called ‘The Doom That Came To Thomas Parkes*’.

Assuming the reader hasn’t read the story, Faust explains that the quote is in reference to what happened to the titular ‘Thomas Parkes’ when he tried to raise spirits. Faust then admits that he’s unsure of his own ability to ‘raise spirits’, but says he hopes that he’ll raise some fists in agreement that there’s something wrong with the underground scene. Ironically (you’ll see why this is ironic very soon), he doesn’t like that certain bands, namely Entombed, are selling so many copies of their LPs.

After a brief diatribe on just that, he goes on to explain that he was in a rush to get this mag out because of problems with the printer. Then, he tells anyone who doesn’t like the fact that this ‘zine only features black metal that they can fuck off, with three exclamation points.

Finally, we get to the end of the opening page, where Faust pulls what can only be called an early form of the Twitter exposed thread. It reads as follows, with absolutely no changes to the text:

“I would suggest you to not do any business with that sucker Evil Ludo from France. He have riped me and several others off, by not return what we ordered. I suppose he’s a medical sensation, as I didn’t know it was physical or psychical possible to live without a brain”

Why am I telling you all of this, when this is only meant to be a transcript of an interview with Euronymous, you may be asking? Because I find it funny, that’s why.

Anyhow, the Euronymous here acts and feels very differently from the Euronymous of the last interview I posted. However, I hope you’ll still enjoy it, and I hope you’re able to appreciate the tiny glimpses of humanity talking to a close friend allowed him, even though they both behave like complete asses. Even though it’s hard to sympathize with him at points.

Like last time, any (sparse) commentary will be between (parenthesis) and in bold. Without further ado, let’s get into it.

.

F: Well, how in hell shall one be able to come up with an intro worthy enough for this band? The words I wanna describe Mayhem’s music with, is not yet created, and it won’t be created either, because no one has really experienced the real darkness and pure brutality with lays behind Mayhem’s hellish sound, but I suppose you all are familiar with this band anyway. Well, in the first place, I hadn’t really thought to enclose this band in this issue, because if we look away from rereleases of old demos (“Pure Fucking Armageddon”) and live tapes, it’s a pretty long time since their last release (in ‘87 that was). I thought I rather should interview them when they released their forthcoming album “Dee Mysteriis Dom Sathanas”, but due to the circumstances, I realised the time was right for an interview now. I won’t bother you with any history shit, but I could tell a bit about what has happened last year. You all know that their vocalist Dead comited suicude in April ‘91, that was a bigg loss for the underground, and I suppose I don’t need to say that this mag is dedicated to the memory of that infernal man. Anyway, Dead was replaced by Cultòcùlus (back then called Occultus), but due to different problems within the band, he left the band in January ‘92, but let’s not say more about that, as Euronymous didn’t want me to say anything about it at all (but Euronymous, you must admit that it has sounded pretty artificial if I hadn’t mentioned it at all). So now, the band consists of Hellhammer (drums) and Euronymous (guitar (and probably bass too)). I know the singer of Tormentor (rip) from Hungary (Esihar Attila) is interested in singing on the album, and also even moving to Norway, so it seems like Mayhem got some sort of predilection to foreign vocalists, but this Hungarian guy happend to be a good one as well, so never mind that. But I don’t think this is official, so don’t tell anyone you read it here, ok? Well then, it’s an honour for me to dedicate the next following pages to one of today’s most legendary and infamous bands......... THE TRUE MAYHEM!!!!!!!

F: First of all Euronymous, I know you and Dead live/lived totally for the old black metal attitude. Is your hate now total to young and trendy bands after Dead’s suicide?

Euro: YES, we have declared WAR. Dead died because the trend people have destroyed everything from the old black metal/death metal scene, today “death” metal is something normal, accepted and FUNNY (argh) and we HATE it. It used to be spikes, nites, chains, leather and black clothes, and this was the only thing Dead lived for as he hated this world and everything which lives on it. If we had the economic possibility to do it, we should meet up at concerts and beat up ALL trend people ALL the time untill they would be too scared to go to concerts at all, now we need to suck their money instead. It’s impossible to stop the trend no matter how much we want, we have to do the best out of it and sell lots of trend shit to them. (I don’t need to tell you that that’s totally not why Dead killed himself, right?)

F: In the spring of ‘91 you started up a shop in Oslo which sells all sorts of music within metal. Is there anything you can tell us about the shop (ideas? plans?)?

Euro: Well, the original idea was to make a specialist shop for metal in general, but that’s a long time ago. Normal metal isn’t very popular anymore, all the children are listening to “death” metal now, I’d rather be selling Judas Priest than Napalm Death, but at least now we can be specialized within “death” metal and make a shop where all the trend people know that they will find all the trend music, this will help us earning money so that we can order more EVIL records to the evil people. But no matter how shitty music we have to sell, we’ll make a BLACK METAL look on the shop, we’ve had a couple of “actions” in churches lately, and the shop is going to look like a black church in the future. We’ve also thought about having total darkness inside, so that would would have to carry torches to be able to see the records.

F: Well, how is the situation all in all in the Mayhem camp right now?

Euro: Difficult as usual, but we’re closer than ever to record the Mayhem lp. Almost all the material is completed, then I and Hellhammer will record the whole thing with 3 guitars, 2 basses and so on. It will be very massive. Who’s to sing on the lp is not yet decided, we’ll wait and see what happens. We have several people who can do the job very well.

F: As Metalion of Slayer mag* said: “it seems like you at certain times lives on the edge of starvation”. Have you ever been on the thought to just give up the whole band and become a normal 9 to 5 person, or is this a completely stupid question to ask?

Euro: It has been very hard at times, but I am not a normal person anyway so it would just not be possible to do that. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why things are as they are (this answer will be long) (that’s okay for me/Ed). The reason why we don’t have any money, is because of hardcore. We have for too long been following the “underground” rules, which say that you must hate money, you must not think you are anything, you must be open-minded, you might have a lot of attitudes and so on. Extremely stupid. But the situation has been that if you don’t follow these rules which are made by hardcore pigs, you are not accepted as a death metal or black metal band! Then you MUST be signed by some big label to be able to make some money, and we’ve never wanted to do that. Then you would anyway be labelled as “commercial” by the HC pigs. This has caused that after 8 years, we are still as broke as ever, while the HC pigs themselves are controlling all labels, and they sign only the bands which fit into their own idiotic world, that means “death” metal bands with society lyrics and jogging suits, and this is what the people see when they grow up. They don’t see any EVIL bands with spikes, as we did. Well, I’m tired about being broke, just to be “underground”. I’m tired of not having money to eat for just because tons of people will call you a “rip-off” if you don’t write 20 letters each day. It’s time to say fuck off to the whole system, which is built to strangle the evil bands in the birth. We must start taking inspirations from the ancient ones, from Venom and their likes. They did their thing BIG, and they never had to think about any idiotic underground rules. They did it big and so must we, but it must never become a trend, it must become a CULT. This is why we have started on a brand new policy with the band and the record label. It’s about time that someone makes a label for black metal and other grim music, and STRIKE BACK. There is NO reason why DSP shouldn’t be as big as Peaceville or Nuclear Blast, if we can just get the business on its feet again and get good distribution. That’s the only way to compete with the HC labels. It’s about time we start taking control over our own scene. We must spread the EVIL bands and pervert people’s souls.

F: What about the Norwegian scene then? Don’t you think that something is terribly wrong when it have gone so far that we have a christian “death metal” band here (Crush Evil)? Advices on how we should kill them?

Euro: First of all— the Norwegian scene is the BEST. There are a lot of GREAT bands (yet with no album out) and of course some shitty trend bands, but nothing as in Sweden. There you have 2-3 good bands out of 100, while here we have a few shit bands who hardly have made even a demo, while all the great bands will make records in the near future. Such as Darkthrone, Burzum, Immortal, Thorns (I’m flattered/ED*), Arcturus, Enslaved and newer bands like Malfeitor and others which I have not yet heard. BUT— when it comes to bands like Crush Evil, we must take serious action. It’s bad enough to have a couple of society bands, but a CHRISTIAN band is too much. But don’t worry, we have plans. They will not continue for a very long time.

F: And now over to something more humouristic....yes.... snuff movies. Who had been the perfect actor for a snuff movie, and why the hell aren’t they legalized? Don’t you think that every video-store should have its own section with snuff-movies?

Euro: Actually I think it’s great that movies like that are forbidden. If they were legal and easily accessible, all the small trend children would be watching them, and then it would not be something extreme anymore (I’m not sure if I agree with you here Euronymous. Snuff movies are usually too raw and brutal for the people with their “peace and life” infected minds. Remember the HC rules/ED) (shut the fuck up, Faust*) It’s just the same what happened to death metal— it became something everyone could buy in every store, something normal and accessible for everyone. All the mystic and evil atmosphere is GONE. I do not think snuff-movies are funny, I think they are DARK. I’ve seen people laugh at them, but that’s probably because they will not be mentally able to take the PAIN and EVIL on over themselves. That is the best way to watch such a movie, to try to FEEL the actual pain of the victims. It becomes much more gruesome then, and that’s great. One must be alone in the darkness and suffer with the victims, if you watch it with other people, they will often talk, laugh and so on, and then you get more distanced from it, it’s not supposed to be funny (death to fun), it’s much better when it’s depressive.

F: Through the years you have been talking about releasing bands like Samael, Rotting Christ, Master’s Hammer, Tormentor, Matricide, Imperator, Massacre etc. on Deathlike Silence Prod., but now some of these bands have released lp’s on labels which only have money in their eyes and know that black metal sells. Doesn’t that frustrate you, and don’t you feel it like the time is running out for you?

Euro: It’s a bit frustrating, but it is also a result of trying to be “underground” which is a suicide policy. Anyway, the main thing is that these evil records get released at all, and not who’s releasing them. We will probably release a record with Tormentor, they’re split up, but they still want to make their Anno Domini demo on vinyl, and we’ll try to fix it within the summer. The time is not running out, because there are a lot of really evil bands around. — most of the Norwegian bands which other labels haven’t heard about. Burzum is ten times better than all the bands on Earache together, and so are Thorns and Arcturus. So there is no problem, really. As for bands like Rotting Christ and Master’s Hammer, we might do something in the future instead. I’ve never been talking with Samael about any deal, but I wish I had as their album is FUCKING GREAT.

F: Almost all bands in the underground today says that they think they got their own style and originality, but the fact is that 95% of the bands sounds totally the same. What is an original death metal band today?

Euro: There exists no death metal bands today. There are only a handful of (mostly great) bands (in case someone hadn’t got it right— black metal has nothing to do with the music itself, both Blasphemy and Mercyful Fate are black metal. It’s the LYRICS, and they must be SATANIC. If not, it is NOT black metal) and what we choose to call LIFE METAL bands. Take a band like Therion. Their music is quite ok, it’s actually one of the best Swedish bands (even though that doesn’t say much) but their lyrics STINK. They are about society and pollution, what the fuck has that got to do with DEATH? If a band cultivates and worships death, then it’s death metal, no matter what KIND of metal it is. If a band cultivates and worships Satan, it’s black metal. And by saying “cultivates death”, I don’t think about thinking it’s funny, or being into gore, I’m thinking about being able to KILL just because they HATE LIFE. it’s people who enjoy to see wars because a lot of people get killed. How many bands think that way? Not many. I can’t think of one.

F: You’re maybe not the most active band when it comes to gigs, but at least you’ve managed to tour Germany and Turkey. What can you tell us from the tour, and is there any new gigs planed?

Euro: That tour was a big mess, we’ll NEVER take the train again! We lost quite some money, but still it was great to get to East-Germany and Turkey. The memories of the tour consist mostly of the starvation and idiotic custom officers, but still I wouldn’t like to have missed the opportunity. We don’t have any concrete plans, we’ll see happens in the future. We don’t like to play for a lot of trendies in jogging suits, so we prefer to leave it be.

F: What do you think of the fact that death metal has been on MTV?

Euro: It sucks. But it isn’t death metal anyway, so....

F: I know that you will soon release the debut album of Abruptum on DSP, so, what can you tell us about it?

Euro: It’s EVIL. It’s PURE EVIL, they were torturing each other in studio DURING the recording and you can HEAR on the music how they SUFFER. It will be the most demented record EVER, and it’s NOT for normal people. This is music which NEVER can become trendy, because normal people won’t be able to understand it. And that’s great. The price for the album it’ll be the same as for the BURZUM lp, which should be somewhere else in this ‘zine*. It’s called “Obscuriratem Advoco Amplèctere Me”, and stay away from it if you don’t like pure DARKNESS.

F: Don’t you think that people in the underground should respect others ideas and views more? I mean, it’s not accepted to spread unpopular thoughts. It seems like there is some sort of guardians of morality and most people keep in mind not to say or do anything which is not accepted by the public.

Euro: I don’t think people should respect each other. I don’t want to see trend people respecting me, I want them to HATE and FEAR. If people don’t accept our ideas as their own, they can fuck off because then they belong to a musical scene which has NOTHING to do with ours. They could just as well be Madonna fans. There is an ABYSS between us and the rest. Remember— one of the HC rules is that you must be open-minded (except for themselves), so we must be careful and avoid being open-minded ourselves. The HC pigs have correctly made themselves guardians of morality, but we must kick them in the face and become guardians of anti-morality.

F: You say you want your riffs to have a dark mood and really sound evil, but what if you came up with a riff which just sounded good, but not evil. Would you use it then?

Euro: Well, if a riff sounds good to me, it mostly means that it sounds evil too. At least when I make the music myself. Haven’t really thought about this about this before.

F: Do you think you’ve been playing this sort of music today if it weren’t for those old bands like Mercyful Fate, Venom and Hellhammer?

Euro: It’s impossible to say. Venom and the other ancient ones have been fundamental influences on Mayhem, and also the direct reason of the band’s existence. We like to think that if they hadn’t started up this, we would have, but who knows? Doesn’t really matter anyway, we hail ancient Venom as the CREATORS.

F: Ok, no more questions at the moment. End the interview in what way you want......

Euro: Perhaps it should be mentioned that well re-release the MAYHEM mini-lp “Deathcrush” VERY soon. We also have t-shirts available now. People should write for prices on things. Be EVIL, not open-minded.

Ok, I suppose some of you already know that Euronymous started up a shop in Oslo in the spring of ‘91. The shop is called “HELVETE” (which is Norwegian and means “HELL”) and are specialized within underground stuff and death metal in general (though he also have some other styles of music there). As he said in the MAYHEM interview, the shop really have a black metal look, so if you ever visit Oslo, I really recommend you to visit “HELVETE” as well. I think it’s good that people take the initiative to start up with such things, because if everyone were just passive, we would all get ruined by poser-shops like Hot Records where they take 140 NKR for the Earache albums (which you in “HELVETE” can get a CD for the same price). Euronymous also sells though mail, so write and ask for a list or something: HELVETE, Schweigaardsgt. 56, 0656 Oslo. NORWAY.”

That’s all! :)

And now for the things I put in asterisks, in order of their appearances.

*If for some reason you actually don’t know who Faust is, he was the drummer on the Emperor LP and “In The Nightside Eclipse” but you might also know him from other great hits such as “threatening to kill Mortiis from prison whilst simultaneously attempting to plead murder of the secondth degree”, “I’m glad the people Euronymous ripped off won’t get their money back because he’s dead hA hA!”, “I got fourteen years for murder because I’m a socially inept virgin— oops” and “bad... bad lyrics who’s quality somehow don’t improve with the passing of time”. All jokes are done in good humour— if it seems like I dislike him, it’s not that at all. I just find him easy to make fun of.

Here is another short bio, this one less sarcastic: he was born in Trondheim, lived around Kvikne, and Lillehammer, worked at Helvete, was a close friend of Euro’s, and has his sun in Taurus.

He also beefed with Glen Benton for dissing the Party City cape (Note: of course I’m being extremely reductive) he and Euronymous seemed to share. Here are a few pictures of Faust:

Here is the infamous Party City cape:

*This was surprisingly hard to find. I think he read it in a mag or something. Here’s a link to where you can find it: https://issuu.com/davidgamble/docs/paranormal37/3 page 64-65.

*Slayer mag was another zine, this one by a bloke named Metalion, who was Euro’s best friend.

*Faust (who felt the strange need to make a distinction between himself, the editor, and himself, the interviewer) also played in Thorns (well, Stigma Diabolicum), under the hilarious moniker: Fetophagia✨

*He’s being a fucking idiot, what was I supposed to say? It should be noted that Faust actually went down for the snuff films too.....

*In case you’re interested, for whatever reason, the prices for the Burzum LP were as follows:

Norge— 130 NKR

Norden— 100 K

Finland— 60 FN

Island— 1000 IK

Europe— 15$

Outside Europe,

Overseas— 15 $

Air— 22$

East Europe— 10$

By ‘norden’ he presumably meant ‘northern Norway’, and “Island” is the Norwegian word for Iceland. Notice the way he doesn’t include Sweden! (Edit: Originally I thought he didn’t include Finland because there was a black metal war with them as well, but it seems as though that feud came a bit later or had already passed)

That’s all, for real this time!

Legal disclaimer: I am absolutely, in no way shape or form, claiming that the stupid cape you see them wearing is literally from Party City. From my limited research, I’ve gathered that the Party City chain hasn’t yet opened its doors in the beautiful and glorious country we know as Norway— Norge. However, I am saying that the cheap, dinky piece of cloth covering their backs and shoulders are of the same kind of shitty quality you’d expect from a Party City Count Dracula costume and that maybe Glen had a point about how stupid Euronymous (and Faust) must’ve looked.......

[vacuousaugust]

Temptations Lead to Order

You know it’s not good to rush into things. At least, not without information and research. And sometimes what you find leads you to have a need for limits..all so you won’t break.

You sighed, staring at your dream journal, which sat between your phone and a bag of snacks you have yet to touch. Your parents came back from shopping and apparently thought you’d appreciate some extra treats. Before you could explain to them what you wanted to do, they’d given you a bag of candies and chips and kissed you on your forehead. Their smiles kept you from speaking up.

Now you felt like you were facing Satan while trying to write a bible.

Before your parents came in with good-natured temptations, you’d been scouring the internet for anything that would help in your journey. Sitting down now, though - noticing how every part of you rubbed against every other part - was a huge distraction. Every few minutes, you had the strongest urge to simply write in your journal “Let’s just not eat for a couple months” because the thought of sitting in your shell for any longer was driving you mad.

But based on your research - going through various blogs and maybe legit eating disorder-based websites - trying to fast straight out would lead to more harm than good. At least most of the time. You side-eyed the bag and tapped the pen you were holding on the table. After a few moments more of staring at the bag, you sighed again, reached in, and pulled out a single tootsie roll. You didn’t open it though, not yet. You just studied it. This lasted a while until, almost spontaneously, you grabbed the whole bag and poured it onto the table, covering your phone and notebook with sweet and savoury treats.

It took you another ten minutes, but eventually you looked at each of the snacks in the bag: you analysed the wrappers, felt the textures of the bars, chips, and roll-ups, and smelled all of them individually. Sometime in-between that you’d fished for your notebook and began jotting things down. The chips smell like ___; The gummies feel ____. And after you were done with your strange, sudden analysis, you looked at the list, quickly coming to a conclusion:

‘None of this food is actually any good.’

Especially after looking at the ingredients and nutritional value, you realised that everything your parents bought you was pretty gross the more you thought about it. In your list, each item had at least 1 bad trait to it, and all lead to a similar conclusion when you recalled eating them: you would either eat too much and feel like utter garbage, or you would crave different foods and eat twice as much as you planned to. All of these snacks were basically drugs. You had to get off them. So you wrote in your journal a few things, then packed up and left, tucking everything back in the bag and putting it on a shelf that you had to jump to reach, and walking back to your room.

“So... I discovered that I’ve been addicted. To food, I mean. Nothing that I’ve normally eaten is any good for me, which explains why my body is like it is. I want to fix that, but first I need some rules. That makes sense, right? Everybody needs rules so they don’t go overboard or something. Anyways, here’s mine:

I can’t control what my parents give me, or how much. They probably wouldn’t understand anyways. So I’ll have to find ways to hide my food.

I should eat, because apparently starving isn’t a *good* option. For now, we’re going to just eat less. Um, I’ll see how much less later..

I should have goals. Everybody has goals. When I looked, people had something like “CW” “SW” “LW” etc. Whatever that means. I should do that. A dream board or something would be good too

Inspiration! I almost forgot inspiration. I can’t run on motivation alone. Find people like me. People who can understand. Possible places: Tumblr? Twitter? 

Remind myself that I can do this, and that nobody can stop me. I’m in control.

I know this one seems strange. Who just looks through a bag of junk food, inspect its contents, then decide that “Wow, what intriguing information. Better make some rules for myself!” It seems too random, no?

In all honesty, it wasn’t really supposed to make sense. Kind of, but not really. When someone is eager, excited, desperate for change, they can act in confusing ways. To us, “You” isn’t making any sense. But in “Your” mind, things are clicking.

Lore-wise (pfft, yeah, okay so there’s lore now), You needed a trigger to finally begin planning. I personally think the ingredients in snacks are nasty when you break it down, and though I still eat them out of greed and habit, I’m more aware of how much of it I actually want to put in my body. In this case, during the whole weird inspection, You was hungry, and it only got worse as You looked at the snacks they refused to eat. This makes them realise that losing weight is going to be harder than they thought, so they cleared their minds enough to write some base rules and steps so they could get started at, least a little bit.

*Insert suitable conclusion here*

[hyuniepot]

the butterfly effect. || chapter one

chapter word count || 3,214

genre || thriller, angst, drama

members || mark lee, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, zhong chenle, park jisung

warnings || mentions of death, implications of depression

pairing || fem!reader x jaemin || slight fem!reader x mark

synopsis || you never thought you’d be able to play with fate so easily, especially not through some shady app. but you suddenly must say goodbye to what you know and hello to a new world where everything seems perfect.

a/n || reposting this chapter because tumblr made it glitch out for some reason ;-; praying everything works out this time!! as always, send me a message or an ask to be added to the taglist.

You used to be scared of butterflies.

You used to be scared of butterflies.

You used to be scared of butterflies.

Yes, the thought of it is silly, but you were. You didn’t like bugs at all, the pretty ones included. The thought of them crawling on your skin made you ill. But there was one thing you loved, and that was your friend, Mark. And unlike you, Mark loved butterflies. So when he asked you to go to a butterfly exhibit with him, you sucked it up and said yes.

And you realized that day that butterflies were beautiful. They were harmless, and you giggled as they landed on you, excitedly showing Mark as you conquered your fear of them. Mark helped you conquer a lot of your fears.

And ever since he left, you felt more fearful than ever. Losing him made you realize how fragile life really was, and you hated it. You hated feeling like everything was on the verge of being lost.

“You good?” you jump at the sound of Jaemin’s voice in your ear. You blink, realizing you had completely zoned out. You were sitting next to him on the bus to school. You quickly glance out the window once more. The butterfly you had been admiring was gone.

You nod. “I’m okay. Just tired.” you respond.

Jaemin grins and grabs onto your hand. “Okay. Just checking in.” he says softly. “Um, we’re all gonna get food after school if you wanna come. It’s just a really nice day, it’d be a shame not to go out in it, you know?”

Truth be told, you had been feeling weird lately, and going out with your friends (or, to be more accurate — your boyfriend and his friends that you were friends with by association) was probably what you needed. “That sounds nice.”

The bus had arrived at school. Jaemin stands and picks up his bag, letting you out in front of him. You exit the bus and you’re met with the warm air enveloping you, the sun hitting your eyes and making you squint. Jaemin exits the bus as well, his frame blocking the sun from blinding you. He puts his arm around you, and you grab onto his hand out of instinct.

“Hey guys, got room for more?” you feel another arm around your shoulder.

“Hyuck, no. You’re gross.” Jaemin groans, rolling his eyes.

Hyuck gasps dramatically. “That’s mean. You didn’t even consult with your girlfriend first.”

You smile. “Sorry, Hyuck. But I’m only interested in Jaemin.” you tell him.

Hyuck removes his arm from your shoulder and crosses his arms. “What a low blow…” he mutters. Hyuck was your childhood friend. He grew up with you and Mark. He was like a happy virus, and you weren’t sure if you would have survived losing Mark if he hadn’t been there for you.

You giggle. “Sorry to break your heart.”

“You’d think after months of being rejected he’d give up, but he’s a trooper.” Jaemin adds.

Hyuck rolls his eyes this time. “It’s only because you guys are gross and kissy-kissy in public. We’re in school,” he says, moving away from his spot next to you. He puts himself in between you and Jaemin. “Leave room for Jesus.”

“Oh my god, Hyuck,” you laugh. “You are so annoying. You’re lucky you’re my best friend.” you tell him.

Hyuck grins and sticks out his tongue, turning down a hallway as you guys pass it. “You’re damn right you’re lucky,” he calls. “I’ll see you guys later!”

Jaemin shakes his head, laughing. “He’s such a weirdo. Love him, though.”

You reach your locker and lean against it. “He is. You learn how to deal with him after so long. I’ll meet you outside the entrance doors after school. Do you guys know where you’re going to eat?”

Jaemin leans up against the locker next to yours. “Nah, not yet. We’ll figure it out before the day ends.” he tells you. “You have a good day, alright?” he pecks your cheek.

You smile. “I will.” Jaemin gives you one last grin before turning and continuing down the hallway.

[12:39 p.m.]

“What kind of weird shit do you read at night?” Naeun asks, scowling at Jiwoo.

“It’s not weird!” Jiwoo cries, turning her phone screen towards the dark-haired girl. “There’s real proof!”

“What are you guys talking about?” you ask, taking a seat next to Naeun.

“Apparently there’s an app that can change your fate,” Sungyeon speaks up, holding back a laugh. “Jiwoo found it.”

Jiwoo turns her attention towards you. “See! You’ll believe me, right?” she turns her phone to you.

You furrow your brows and decide not to answer her question. You read the article she had pulled up.

According to the 13-year-old who downloaded the app, ButterFly, his wish came true a mere 3 hours after sending it into the ButterFly HQ. The young boy wished for his cat to come back to life, who had been dead for nearly a month. A few hours later, a cat showed up at the boy’s window. It was identical to the one the boy had.

ButterFly, a self-proclaimed life changing app has been growing in popularity as people hope to change their past. But the real question is, does this app really change a life or is it simply coincidence?

“Jiwoo…” you say softly.

“Come on,” she whines. “I can’t be the only one who thinks it could actually be real!”

“I’m afraid you are.” Sungyeon tells her, taking a bite of her food. “It’s just a coincidence. The only success story they have is something so… normal.”

“If they want to impress me, they have to come up with something way more exciting than a kid finding his cat.” Naeun says.

Jiwoo pouts, turning off her phone. “But… it’d just be so cool if it was real.”

“I agree, but an app should never be trusted for something like that. Plus, if an app had the powers to change the trajectory of someone’s life, wouldn’t the butterfly effect happen?” you asked.

“She’s right,” Naeun says. “Fate is not something to play around with.”

Dejected, Jiwoo surrenders and turns her attention back to finishing her lunch.

“What is that again?” Sungyeon asks. “The butterfly effect?”

“The idea that even tiny changes can make huge and unexpected changes,” you explain. “Like a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a typhoon.”

“Hmm,” Sungyeon hums. “That’s interesting.”

“Yeah, like if Jiwoo was born as a boy, maybe she’d be dating you and you’d be a millionaire for some reason.” Naeun takes a drink from her water bottle.

“What?” Sungyeon cringes.

“Hey, what’s that face for?” Jiwoo cries. “I think I’d be a cute boy.”

You laugh and shake your head as your friends continue to playfully banter about who would be the cutest boy in a parallel universe.

[3:30 p.m.]

You stand by the entrance doors, rocking back and forth on your heels. You try not to look too awkward as you wait for Jaemin and his friends. You wave to Naeun as she leaves, and are relieved when Jaemin appears a few moments later. He immediately spots you and makes his way to you, smiling. His friends, Jeno and Renjun walk behind him with Hyuck, loudly talking about something.

“Hi,” Jaemin says. “Did you have a good day?”

You grin. “It was fine. How about you?” you start walking away from school, taking hold of his hand.

“It was good. I have some annoying homework, but…” he trails off.

Renjun suddenly runs past you, turning around with a disgusted look on his face. “Hyuck, for the last time, I will not hold your hand!”

You turn your head to see a pouty Hyuck. “I just wanted to fit in!”

You laugh and roll your eyes, turning your head back towards the sidewalk in front of you. You all make your way to a nearby restaurant. You sat next to Jaemin in a booth and Jeno, Renjun, and Hyuck all squeezed into the one across from you. You all ordered drinks.

“Oh, Jaemin,” Jeno says, picking his bag up from the floor. He pulls out a notebook and hands it to Jaemin. “Thanks for your notes.”

Jaemin nods. “No problem.”

“Jeno,” Renjun says, shaking his head. “You’re never gonna learn if you keep copying Jaemin’s notes.”

Jeno shrugs. “It’s not like I do it all the time,” he says, defending himself.

“You borrow my notes, too, though… so Renjun kinda has a point.” Hyuck says, leaning back as the waitress sets his drink down in front of him.

You pull out your phone as the boys argue yet again just to see what was happening on your social media. It was mostly random tweets and posts from people you knew, but there was something that caught your eye. It was a promoted post from ButterFly. It had no likes or anything, despite being promoted to your Twitter timeline. And it wasn’t just one. After a few scrolls, you saw another ad from the app, just with a different caption. You saw another one before shaking your head and exiting the app. You opened Instagram, just to be met with the same ad.

Don’t be afraid. Having the chance to change your fate is much more fun than you think.

The caption sent chills down your spine. It didn’t sound like something that should be promoted. You clicked the link the ad provided, but it simply took you to the app store. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. You wanted to download the app, but something was holding you back.

Jaemin nudged your shoulder, making you jump.

“Huh?” you ask. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Do you want something to eat?” Jaemin asked.

“Oh,” you look at the waitress next to the table, notebook and pen in hand. “I’m okay.” you reply.

The waitress nods before turning around and entering the kitchen. You stand up from your seat at the booth. “I need to go to the bathroom.” You shoved your phone into a pocket on your bookbag and rushed to the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you, walking to the sink. You looked at yourself. You looked tired, disheveled. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling you had felt since waking up. You could barely even describe it. It almost felt like dread, but it was more of an unexplainable sadness. Not even being with your friends seemed to help it. You turned on the water, splashing your cheeks with cold water. How had you been so enchanted by the ads of that app that you had become completely oblivious to what was going on around you?

You dried your face before you heard a small knock on the door. “Hey, are you okay?” You opened the door and saw Jaemin. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, sorry…” you say, stepping out of the bathroom.

“You’ve been acting… strange today. No offense,” Jaemin says.

“None taken,” you sigh. “I know I have. Everything just feels off today, I don’t know why.” You tell him.

Jaemin puts his arm around you and you both begin walking back to the table the others were at. “It’s okay to feel that way… I think everyone does. It just sucks to watch you feel so sad.” Jaemin says. He sighs. “I really hope you start feeling better soon. I miss hearing your laugh.”

You smile. “I miss it too,” you say, reaching the table. Jaemin scoots into the booth and you follow after. You try to ignore the horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach and have a good afternoon with your friends. You ended up starting to feel better. You stole some of Hyuck’s food after panicking and not ordering some of your own. You laughed at everyone’s jokes and dumb arguments, and before you knew it, an hour had passed. You all decided to stop being a bother and leave. You waited outside as everyone paid; Jaemin offered to pay for you since all you got was a drink.

“Are you heading home?” Jeno asked Jaemin.

He nodded. “I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” he said, resting his head on yours.

Jeno nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Renjun and Hyuck also waved goodbye. They were all going to Jeno’s. You went your separate ways, and as much as you loved them, you were glad to be alone with Jaemin. Your house wasn’t too far, but even if it was just a few minutes, you were glad to be with him.

“Are you just gonna go home and do homework?” you ask.

Jaemin nods. “Yeah… it’s probably gonna take some time.”

“Sorry baby,” you say. “I’ll facetime you once my mom gets home,” you tell him.

Your mother worked late, so you were in charge of looking after your younger brother, Jisung, until she got home. He was only 2 years younger than you, so it’s not like it was hard, but you still felt obligated to keep tabs on him.

“You don’t have to,” he says. You both walked through your driveway and to the front door. “But if you want to, however… I would love it if you did.” he grins as you open your door.

“Well, then expect a call later,” you say, grabbing both of his hands.

Jaemin leans in and kisses you, and for a second, it feels like everything is okay.

“Gross!” a voice yells. You jump away from Jaemin and turn around.

“Jisung, your sister and her boyfriend are smashing their faces together again!” Chenle, who was standing in the kitchen, yells. Jisung’s pokes his head around the corner.

“Shut up, Chenle.” you say, grinning. “You’re not a child, kissing isn’t that weird.”

You step inside, taking off your shoes and setting your bag down. Jaemin steps in behind you and walks to the kitchen, putting Chenle in a headlock. “You little jerk,” Jaemin teases.

Chenle giggles, trying to get out of Jaemin’s arms. You walk to the living room where Jisung had gone, continuing his video game. “How was your day?” you ask.

“Good.” Jisung says, eyes still glued to the TV.

“That’s good,” you look back to the kitchen and see that Jaemin has released Chenle, and is now talking to him. “Do you have homework?”

Jisung nods. You watch the TV, and watch his character die. Jisung sighs and sets the controller down, turning to you. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Can you try and get it done before Mom gets home?” you ask.

Jisung nods. “Yeah… Chenle and I have the same homework so we can do it together, I guess.”

You nod and go back to the kitchen. Talking to Jisung sometimes felt like talking to a brick wall. “I better get going.” Jaemin says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walk him to the door. “I’ll see you.” you grab both of his hands again, never wanting to let go. Jaemin kisses your cheek and turns.

You bite your lip. Why was this horrible feeling back so suddenly? “Hey, Jaemin?” you call after him. He turns back around.

“I love you.” you say, almost too softly. For a second you weren’t even sure if he heard you, but he gives you that classic smile, the one that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

“I love you too.” he blows you a kiss before walking away.

[9:41 p.m.]

You sat down on your bed, freshly out of the shower. Since Jaemin had left, you helped Jisung and Chenle with their homework, did your own homework, and facetimed Jaemin for a bit while he did his. And then you took a long shower in an attempt to clear your head.

You look around for your phone, finding it hidden in a blanket on your bed. You answer some unread texts and then open Instagram again. You’re met with the same ads from before. Your heart drops.

Without thinking you click the link again, pressing download. It downloaded in no time. Your thumb hovers over the icon of the app. The moment you muster up the courage to click on it, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

You jump, startled, but get up and open it.

Your mother’s exhausted face greets you. “Hi sweetie. I’m going straight to bed, so… goodnight. I hope you had a good day.”

You smile, shakily exhaling. “Today was fine. Goodnight.” you say, not wanting to delay her sleep anymore.

She gives you a warm smile before going to her room. Before you close your door, Jisung appears from the staircase nearby. “You going to bed?” he asks.

“Uh,” you open your phone, looking at the time.

ButterFlyHQ

Greetings. What is your name?

You ignore the notification. “No… but I’ll probably be in my room for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, okay… well… goodnight then.” he says, going to his room which was right across from yours. He closes the door without another word.

You press your lips together and shut your door as well, laying down on your bed. You opened your phone and clicked on ButterFly.

1 Unread Message

ButterFlyHQ

Greetings. What is your name?

You hesitantly enter your name. You regret it as soon as you responded — maybe you should’ve used a fake name.

ButterFlyHQ

Hello, (y/n).

What do you wish to change?

Wow, straight to the point… You think.

You wonder what you should enter. You try to think of the most outrageous thing you could think of, something completely unimaginable. Something that would surely trigger the Butterfly Effect.

There were things you actually wanted to change.

You wanted your mother to stop being so stressed.

You wanted Jisung to be happy.

You wanted to stop feeling so insecure about you and Jaemin’s relationship.

You wanted Jiwoo to finally pass trigonometry.

Okay, the last one was a bit dumb, and actually imaginable. And then you thought of the most impossible thing.

You

I want my best friend to come back to life.

You almost laugh as you sent the message. But your faint smile fades at the immediate response.

ButterFlyHQ

What is your best friend’s name?

This was suddenly feeling too personal.

You

Mark Lee.

ButterFlyHQ

Understood. We will try our best to meet your request.

You stare at your phone. Now what? You turned your phone off and set it on your nightstand, plugging it into the charger before laying down and staring at the ceiling.

Great, now some random stranger knows some girl thinks an app can bring her friend back from the grave.

When you got the chance, you were gonna chew Jiwoo out for bringing that app up. You get under the covers and close your eyes, trying to sleep. But your mind was racing. You finally feel yourself drifting, your mind finally giving you some peace.

Your last thought before you finally fall asleep is Jaemin. You just wanted to be with him again, his arm around your shoulder, his fingers lazily intertwined with yours. You felt yourself smiling before finally falling asleep, unknowingly saying goodbye to your last normal day.

[fanficparker]

Small No-things | Tom x Haz one-shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Tom Holland

Word count: 2.8k words

Warnings: I am leaving this fic open-ended, Fluff and angst sprinkled here and there

Summary: Tom was bothered for not putting in as much efforts as Harrison into their friendship. But when Harrison reminds him of how he's all for him by being his assistant on the set of Spider-man Homecoming, Tom realises he wanted even more from his best-friend.

A/N: Hope this ends my writer slump.

Tom didn't like lying, however, he did lie a lot. In his defence— he just happens to struggle with expressing his feelings because how does anyone do that shit without feeling as vulnerable as a tortoise devoid of its shell?

"Tom, love, are you feeling well?" His mum asked from the other side of the phone.

"Very," He told her, smiling lightly though the words which may seem strange as she cannot see him. But the smile was not for her in the first place, it was for him. He liked telling himself that he was fine and it was almost working.

He hung up when the conversation got too forced, wishing her good night. And as soon as the beeping of the disconnecting tone fell into his ears, he kept the phone down and shoved the plastic wall aside, almost taking Harrison by surprise.

Harrison and Tom were sitting (half-lying down) in the luxury area of an already luxurious London to Atlanta flight. The interior was greyish and the furniture was brownish with cream-coloured curtains. Both of them were sitting beside each other but a removable opaque plastic wall standing between was separating them, which Tom just removed (sixth time in the seven hours, considering they didn't even set it up in the first three hours of the flight).

"Jesus, Tom! Learn to knock!" Harrison jolted, keeping a hand over his heart.

"Sorry!" Tom uttered, not feeling it though (Harrison was a drama queen anyway), "Just a matter of two hours." He gritted his teeth in excitement and nervousness (at least, he wasn't jumping on his seat).

Harrison chuckled, putting down the magazine he was holding. He kept his elbow on the make-shift table, squeezing his legs in his seat and leaning towards the brunette.

"I know. Exciting isn't it?" He said softly, looking up at the ceiling.

"And terrifying," Tom added quickly.

Harrison chuckled, again.

"It's going to be fine..." The blonde produced a full mouth yawn at the end part, removing his glasses and tossing them over the magazine.

Sleepyhead. Seeing that Tom turned the lamp off, sinking into his own seat, shutting his tired eyes.

He knows it's going to be fine. It... It's just that it doesn't feel fine. How does he even explain this?

...

"We can eat a burger. If it will make you feel better..." Harrison offered as the two boys dragged their luggage trolley across the airport.

Definitely, a burger can't make him feel better.

"I said I am fine," Tom repeated, sounding almost frustrated. Because wasn't this the thirteenth time, Harrison was asking him this question?

"You don't look fine though..." He defended in a soft voice.

But it just added to Tom's bubbling irritation.

First, the man who was supposed to pick them up at the airport hasn't arrived yet. Second, that person was telling him how he was just a few miles away for the last two hours and now he wasn't even picking up the call (if things couldn't get any worse). Third, Tom's feet were aching. Fourth, he wanted to sleep in a comfortable bed. Fifth, he didn't like people trying to pursue him into changing his mind and Harrison was doing exactly the same.

"Okay... But can you eat for me? I am really starving."

Tom stopped at his friend's words, leaving the trolley as his hands rest over his hips.

"Mate you got a completely different abdomen. You can eat for yourself!"

"Please..." Harrison did his stupid little pout, making Tom roll his eyes but it was all for vain. He knew well that his friend won't take no for an answer.

With a final huff, Tom relaxed his tensed shoulders, giving in.

"OK."

Soon, he found himself sitting at the counter of an open Burger joint inside the airport itself as he watched Harrison eat.

"Now why are you stealing my chips?"

Well, he wasn't just watching...

"Doesn't your stomach fill up when I eat?" Tom mocked, throwing another finger chip into his mouth and licking the salt off his fingertip.

"And I thought, my best mate wasn't any regular creep..." Harrison produced a gagging noise but then instantly stuffed his mouth with a big bite of the burger.

"Yeah, he is a PhD scholar." Tom rolled his eyes again, chewing on the chip.

That made Harrison laugh. He tried shutting his mouth tight, pressing a hand over his lips as his cheeks swelled, struggling to stop the food from falling out of his mouth.

Tom failed to contain his own grin that split his face. He joined Harrison in the meal as his own order arrived. He watched his phone ring off and away. For once he didn't care about reaching the hotel any earlier. They were fine here. He felt fine here. Didn't he?

...

"Whoa, this is huge!" Harrison dropped the bag on the floor with a thud, instantly rushing to take a look at the bathroom. He checked the other room and then the spare bathroom... Then the kitchen, the balcony and then rushed back to the living room which also served as the outer, larger bedroom, where Tom was still standing unmoved, arms folded across his chest.

"It's huge..." He repeated, letting the adjective trail off his lips.

Tom opened his mouth to say something but Harrison was quick to cut him off—

"Which room should I take? The inner one or the outer one?"

The brunette scrubbed a hand down his face, "The inner one because I seriously don't want your hundreds of shoe pairs invading our living area."

Harrison's brows quirked, "How-how do you know?"

"You posted it on Twitter." Tom shrugged.

"You don't even use Twitter!"

"Yes, and your fans did repost the video on Instagram tagging me."

"Well, then they are your fans. Traitors!" This time Harrison had his hands folded across his chest, dramatically swaying his head to the other side.

There was a pause.

"... Did you actually bring them all?" An amused smile formed on the corner of Tom's face as Harrison licked his lips.

Unnecessary drama... If it was something, the boys would have called it their personal quirk.

"All for you..." Harrison replied, smirking, maintaining the eye-contact with the other boy.

But it was too fatal. He gave up.

"Actually, no I didn't." He rolled his eyes this time.

The victorious smile reached Tom's ears but he was too tired to care. He could kill to sleep on that soft bed. So, he jumped up on the mattress, discarding his shoes and pressing his face against the silky fabric of the pillow.

"I am taking the outer room anyway." His voice came out muffled, not that it was unintelligible.

"Twat." Harrison whispered, twisting his mouth. He was anyway going to invade Tom's space and Tom knew it.

...

Tom won't call himself sad or melancholic. It was just that Harrison had so many... friends.

He had always been great at maintaining relationships even with the people he met in Year Five. But Tom really only had Harrison, despite all the enormous extra amount of people he knew because of Billy Eliot or The Impossible and now even the Marvel Universe. Even when Tom was meeting Jacob Batalon for the third time, it was Harrison who could crack up the conversation. And they were meeting for the first time!

Tom was visibly jealous of this. It wasn't the angry or hateful kind of jealous. It was a sad one. It made him feel as if he was putting in less amount of effort than Harrison. It made him feel as if he was not doing enough— dishonest, insecure and what not...

He felt stupid for feeling this. Yet, it didn't stop him from feeling it more than often. Not that Harrison would ever make him feel this way. He felt worse for knowing and yet feeling all the same.

"Hey, Holland?"

It was Jacob's voice that brought him back to reality.

"Mind if I steal your boyfriend? We are liking each other way too much." Jacob winked, looking at Tom and then at Harrison.

They were inside Jacob's trailer where Jacob was sitting on his chair and Harrison was standing beside him, leaning over his shoulder on his elbow. While Tom was standing opposite to them, basically out of the conversation. Jacob's statement did only one job— make him more anxious than before. Dread settled at the bottom of his stomach, his breathing got laboured and his heart almost stopped.

"We--we aren't boyfriends."

That made the two boys laugh more but Tom only got more confused and felt more left out. Harrison must have noticed because—

"Tis' just a joke. Relax." Harrison shook his head, looking directly at Tom.

Tom could best produce a spluttered laughter, ready to leave for the set.

"Jacob likes teasing. Which means we are gonna be shipped a lot from now on." Harrison giggled as they waited for Tom to be called for the scene. He was wearing that overly tight Spider-man suit, way too uncomfortable.

"... And that doesn't bother you?" He swirled his neck to look at his best-friend, wondering...

"Why would it bother me? It's just a joke. Normal between friends." Harrison shrugged his shoulders like it was...

Normal...

If Harrison is saying then it must be normal.

It has to be...

...

"That was sick! I totally didn't assume Laura to be 'the' prankster. Z was so not ready!" Harrison laughed as he emerged from his room, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. Tom hummed in response busy scrolling through his phone. Harrison tried to ignore it, not caring about whatever Tom was busy gazing into his phone but he could read the uncomfortable longing in his friend's brown eyes. His own laughter died in his throat as he sat beside Tom, giving him a side glare.

Three weeks they were together in this hotel suite which made Harrison more aware of Tom's expressions than any other time. And today, all he noticed was Tom's eyebrows furrowing more and more as he looked into the device. Harrison snatched it off his hands when he suspected him of—

"Hey what?!" Tom yelled, trying to take it away but Harrison was quick to raise it up in the air, using his height advantage. He looked into the screen.

— stalking Henry. He was scrolling through Henry's Instagram profile. Tom sunk into the cushions realising that he was caught red-handed. He watched the softness of Harrison's eyes vanishing replaced by something close to anger as he scrolled through his phone.

"We talked about this, right?" His voice came low as his line of sight shifted from the device to its owner. Tom didn't reply, rather looked to the other side, at the empty wall.

Harrison's nostrils flared. He tossed the iPhone to the side and stood up, pushing his glasses that had fallen to his nose tip back to his eyes.

"He's a piece of shit and you are still clinging onto him?" It was a statement disguised like a question to cloud the fact that Tom didn't have a choice than to accept that his ex-boyfriend was in fact a piece of shit. He was supposed to move on.

But does Harrison have any idea how difficult it was to move on? Does he has any idea how many times he looked at people, thinking he would fall in love with them but in a few days the truth would hit him hard on the chest?

He couldn't.

He can't.

At least, things with Henry were so much better. They lasted the longest. Two years were the longest he had been with someone and not felt drifting apart. Until...

Tom started, voice higher than it should be: "Just because you don't like him, that doesn't mean I---" But he was interrupted by a voice even louder.

"Of course I don't like him. I don't like arseholes!" There were mixed lines of anger and worry on Harrison's forehead. He paused, breathed from his mouth and added in a lot softer voice: "Don't you remember how it was with him?"

Until, he saw himself in the mirror. Until, he noticed the dullness in his eyes that used to glint with enthusiasm. He saw those dark circles, the loss of sleep, the loss of self-esteem.

He even stopped dancing, the thing that once meant everything to him. The thing that paved the way to everything he loves now. And he left it because Henry didn't like seeing him dance. Wear skirts and perform ballets. And he loved Henry so much that he stopped doing it.

No, he never loved Henry.

Henry was his weakness manifesting as a person, taking form in flesh and blood.

"I... I am just seeing his pictures, not that I am going back to him." Tom stated, his pride trying to overshadow his vulnerabilities.

Harrison again exhaled, sitting back on the sofa beside him.

"It's not just about physical things. It's also mental. We talked about it. You deserve so much better Tom and no one even close to Henry." He kept his palm over Tom's knee, looking him into his eyes, "Henry is your past. Gone. He doesn't even deserve a space in your memories."

Tom would have argued but he remembered that they have had this conversation in the past and that Harrison was right.

Henry told him what was good and bad for him. He decided everything for Tom and that's what Tom loved. He loved that he will no longer be responsible for any wrong decisions he ever made. That he would have someone else to blame for all his failures but he was so wrong.

It was his mistake. Considering the possibility was his mistake. Accepting Henry in his life was his mistake. Letting Henry make decisions for him was his mistake.

Henry tried to push his friends away from him. He did push all his friends away. But Harrison was the only one to push back. Push back even harder.

Harrison stayed with Tom no matter how much he pushed him away because Henry said Harrison was not right for him. Still, Harrison knocked at his door, asked about his day, told about his day, wished him New Year before anyone else.

Harrison even knocked at his door when Tom had completely given up, accepted that the gear of his life was no longer in his control. Harrison gave him his chest to keep his head on and cry. Harrison listened to him patiently and understood everything even when Tom was sure his words were just sobs, completely unintelligible.

And right now, he was again pushing Harrison away and Harrison was pushing back with a stronger force. Something hot and wet flashed through his eyes, collecting at the bottom of his eyelids. He wiped it off before it could fall down or before Harrison could notice.

His chest constricted imagining what if that tear had dropped. That it's been so many years after Harrison had those steel braces over his teeth removed or when Tom was no longer afraid of never growing taller and reaching Hollywood... And yet, Harrison would still give his chest for him to lay his head over and patiently hear his sobs and understand his distorted speech.

"Sorry. I shouldn't be so harsh on you..." Harrison apologised removing his hand from Tom's knee but the touch still lingered. He could still feel the warmth of the touch on his skin.

But Harrison was not harsh at all...

Tom smiled this time, looking into his best mate's blue eyes. "No, you are right. Henry is shit."

Harrison smiled too and got up again, stretching his arm is Tom's direction with his palm facing up. His hair fell on his forehead when he looked down at him, exactly like a bungee jumping rope.

"We should go out then. Refill that brain of yours with memories that will be worth memorising." He cheered.

But Tom knew there were moments worth memorising even in those times with Henry. All those moments he had his friend with him. The one who wore those metallic braces, complained about those acne on his forehead or how thin he was and joined gym at fifteen but then never went there the next day.

"Yes." Tom placed his hand above Harrison's. Harrison who no longer had those braces or those teen acne neither he chickens out of the gym training...

Tom did skip over a small detail. That little itch in his fingers when he noticed Harrison's curls falling over his forehead. The desire to touch them and push them back. He had clenched his fists momentarily until he unclenched them back to put his hand over Harrison's bigger ones. He pretended that that itch didn't exist.

Or that he liked holding his hand...

.

.

.

TAGLIST: @hazmyheart // @justasmisunderstoodasloki // @tommysparker // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @calltothewild // @viagracex // @httplayer // @slytherin-chaser // @perspectiveparker // @catkeeperthetall // @god-knows-what-am-i-doing // @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid // @emmaloo21​ // @tomxhazarchive​

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 30

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) FLUFF

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31

Chim: Seokjinnie hyuuuuuuung~ Where are yooooouuuuu?

Taetae: What do you mean? He was right… OH NO, HE’S GONE!

Joonie: I saw him in the kitchen making some food earlier.

Chim: Yeah, well he’s not there anymore. I can’t find him anywhere. Where did he go?

Yoongi: Does it matter? It’s our day off.

Chim: OF COURSE IT MATTERS!

Taetae: We have no idea where he is!

Chim: What if he’s been kidnapped?!

Taetae: Who knows what could be happening to him right now as we speak!

Hobi: There they go sharing one braincell again…

You stared at your phone, not surprised in the least at the source of the many notification sounds you received in the last minute alone. Jin was looking at his phone as well, shaking his head at the antics of his younger brothers.

“Did you forget to tell them we had plans today?” you asked, even though the answer was obvious.

“Guess so,” Jin chuckled as he typed in the group chat to let them know he was okay before Taehyung and Jimin sent a search party out for him.

The two of you had been walking along a beach you came across, just relaxing and enjoying the view and each other’s company when your phones started to get blown up. As you slowly progressed down the sand, not quite close enough to the waves to need to worry about your shoes getting wet, Jin continued to be preoccupied by his phone.

Just as you were about to tease him for paying more attention to the device than you, he suddenly laughing hard enough that he stopped in his tracks. You stopped as well, turning to him with your eyebrows raised, silently questioning what was so funny.

He eventually looked up at you, needing to suppress more laughing so he could manage to get out what was entertaining him so much. “Some fans really have the eyes of hawks. Not even censoring faces of the staff in videos stops them,” he said. Of course, that didn’t explain much, so you waited for him to further explain.

“I just came across this profile on twitter,” he said. “It tracks all the times that you’re caught in pictures that fans take of us. And also when you, or what fans think to be you, interact with us or are in the shot in videos. And that led me to finding a gold mine of tweets with fans gushing about our interactions and shipping you with the different members.”

Your eyes widened, almost comically. “W-What?!”

Jin resumed his laughing fit, but managed to turn his phone towards you to show you what he was talking about. And sure enough, you saw exactly what Jin described. A picture one fan caught of Hoseok at an airport with you standing next to him, and a bunch of comments mostly fangirling over shipping the two of you.

The sight under any of the other pictures this profile tweeted was identical, some even inciting small arguments between fans who thought that you would be better fit with a different member of the group.

“It seems like the popular one to ship you with this week is Namjoon,” Jin said once he was able to regain his composure once more. “Apparently the two of you had a lot of chemistry in this one clip where your blurred face seemed to be looking at him in a Bangtan Bomb.”

Your mind went blank as you slowly returned the phone to its owner, having trouble comprehending the fact that this was actually a thing. Were you surprised that there was some shipping going on? Not particularly. The fans knew who you were and that you were with the boys all the time, so it wasn’t a stretch to assume there were those who would wonder if you dated any of them.

But seeing that there was an account dedicated to spotting you in videos and pictures, and that spurred a whole mini community in the fandom that enjoys shipping you with any and all of them? That was crazy to come to terms with existing.

“Aw, don’t be disappointed Y/n,” Jin said after you didn’t respond, probably for longer than socially acceptable while you still sorted your thoughts on the matter. “There seem to be quite a lot of them who like the idea of me and you.”

Your head resumed normal functionality to snap and look at him. “Why do you say that like that’s a good thing?” you asked.

He grinned as he continued ahead of you, walking backwards to see your expression as he teased you. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy being shipped with my handsome face.”

You rushed toward him, and he broke into a smile, laughing as he turned around to run away from you. “Yah!” you yelled as I chased after him. “Get back here!”

He wasn’t going anywhere near his full speed so you caught up to him rather quickly. He turned around when you reached out to stop him, catching your wrist and pulling on your arm to force you to fall into the sand, him following just behind. While your mind reeled, trying to comprehend all that just happened in the last half of a second, Jin continued to laugh.

“What was that for?” You asked after a moment of collecting yourself (again), turning your head to the side to look at your friend. He met my stare as his laughter calmed down, and you laughed a little yourself as well. “I was trying to not get sand stuck in every crevice of my clothes today.”

“We haven’t gotten to hang out just the two of us in so long,” Jin replied, ignoring your lame complaints.

You lightly sighed. “It really has been a long time, huh?” Of course you had seen each other almost every day, just as you had with the other boys. But by now it was easy to forget that there was a time the only one you knew was Seokjin, and that it was just you and him spending time together. Even after becoming their manager, while you got along with everyone fine, you were still the most comfortable around the oldest for a while.

“This is so nice,” Jin exclaimed as he turned towards the sky and closed his eyes. “I know none of the others are having as good of a time as I am since I’m monopolizing you today, but I hope they are recharging like I feel like I am.”

“I hope so, too,” you replied before the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence, watching the clouds make their way across the sky for a while.

After staying just like that for quite a while, Jin was the first to sit up. You followed his lead as he stood up, then reached his hands out to help you up as well. He helped brush the sand out of your hair and from the back of your shirt before doing the same to himself.

“So where to now?” you asked.

Seokjin shrugged. “I don’t really know anywhere. Let’s just keep walking,” he said, flashing a smile.

“I don’t know if we should spend that much time walking,” you said. “You know we’ll be walking around a lot every day during shooting.”

He just shrugged. “It’s not like we’re on our feet all day. Besides, what else are we supposed to do?”

“That is true, I guess.” You made your way back to solid ground, looking for where you should head to next. “You know, I think I saw a street with shops back that way,” you suggested, pointing in the direction you had come from. “Want to go see if there’s anything interesting there?”

“Sounds good to me,” your friend replied, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked.

The street you found was full of small shops, most of which were definitely aimed towards tourists. Small, overpriced trinkets and stereotypical “I Love” shirts were visible through the windows. While they had little effect on you, it seemed that Jin was rather interested in something he saw in one of the stores you passed by. You knew he’d just ignore it and walk past if he noticed you didn’t particularly care, so you decided to enter the shop first so he would follow.

The shopkeeper didn’t seem to pay much attention when you entered, distracted by the book they were reading. You turned around to see what would occupy Jin’s attention in this little shop and followed him to a display of tiny snow globes. You had to admit, they actually were kind of cute. But definitely listed for at least twice the price they were really worth.

While Jin picked up and examined a couple of items, you started wandering around the other sections of the shop. Past the keychains with names on them and the city-specific shirts on display, you noticed a jewelry section. There was a display case of cheap jewelry that was made to look more expensive than it was, but what caught your eye was what you saw after that. There were small bracelet designed to hold charms, and then a wide variety of charms to choose from.

As with everything else, of course it was overpriced. But you couldn’t stop yourself from perusing through the many unique pieces that were offered. You had never had a charm bracelet before, even though you thought they were interesting and would have liked to own one. You weren’t sure what you would have wanted to get specifically, but just taking a look for a while kept you entertained while Seokjin continued looking at what he wanted.

When I eventually heard Jin at the register making a purchase, you tore my eyes away from the display to stand next to him while he paid and you walked out of the store together.

“What did you get?” you asked

“It’s a secret,” he replied, winking at me. You started walking away, but Seokjin stopped as he looked back into his bag.

You paused as well, turning to face him. “What’s wrong?”

He took another second before looking at you and saying, “Sorry, can you wait right here, Y/n. There’s one I forgot to get.”

“I can come back in with you,” you offered.

“No, that’s okay,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you from moving. “Just wait here, I’ll only be a minute.”

You shrugged, seeing no problem with waiting outside while he finished his purchase. He did perfectly fine with the first one on his own so it wasn’t like he needed you.

You took out my phone as you waited, looking at the group chat that Eric had put you into a few days ago. You were overwhelmed when it had happened. He didn’t give you any warning or ask you about it first, just decided to make a chat with you in it. Suddenly you had found myself thrown into conversations with not only Eric, but also Kevin, Amber from f(x), Peniel from BTOB, and Jackson from Got7. They were surprisingly active in the chat, although you hadn’t been able to chat much since you were added, being as you’ve been busy with work.

Some may think that since you’re around a K-pop group all the time, that meeting people from other groups wouldn’t be a big deal. But oh boy, was it nerve wracking. Got7 had just debuted this year, and being as Jackson and Namjoon had made quick friends when they met at music shows it wasn’t so bad talking to him. You were already a bit familiar with him. But the rest?

You were fans of them before I even came to Korea. Just like when you met Eric, you were still super nervous in the chat. But the rest of them were pretty familiar with each other, so they easily kept conversations flowing in the chat and were constantly trying to include you when they could. You almost felt bad for not being able to be more active in it right now, but they of course understood.

You barely got to read through the messages that you had missed before Jin came back out of the shop, looking happy with his extra purchase.

“Ready to go?” you asked, putting your phone away.

“Let’s go!” he responded, linking his arm through yours and practically started skipping down the sidewalk. You laughed, trying really hard to keep up with your shorter legs.

You found a local place to eat before deciding it was probably a good idea to head back to their “dorm” they were staying at.

On your way back down the street, a different store caught Jin’s eye and he paused in front of it.

“Do you really have something else you want to buy?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s something really cool in here,” Seokjin replied. “Can we just look really quick?” He flashed his attempt of puppy eyes at you, as if he needed that to convince you.

“Yeah sure, it can’t hurt,” you said. He quickly entered the shop, heading toward the display that had caught his eye.

You took my time entering after him. This shop was definitely bigger than the one we went to before, and wasn’t blatantly a tourist trap. It sold more expensive wares, things that were more worth their large price tags. What seemed to have gotten Jin’s attention was a display of really nice crystals of all different colors.

“Wow, these are really pretty!” Seokjin exclaimed, closely looking at a deep blue crystal as you approached him. “I wish we had room for things like this in the dorm back home.”

“Even if we did, these are probably way out of our price range, Jin,” you said as you examined what appeared to be an amethyst crystal.

“Yeah, I know,” he responded, backing away a little to look at more of the gems. “But one can dream, right?”

You nodded in agreement, turning away to look over what else was in the store. As your eyes wandered, you noticed the shopkeeper had his eyes set pretty firmly on Seokjin as he looked at the crystals. That wasn’t too unusual, especially with items like these you’re sure that they could never be too safe. But a few moments later another customer entered and started perusing through the other side of the same display that Jin was still examining, and when you looked back to the man at the register his eyes were still firmly glued on your friend.

You realized he hadn’t been looking at you at all, and taking a glance at the new customer as well, you started wondering if there was a certain motivation behind why he was eyeing Jin specifically.

“Hey, Jin,” you carefully said as you tore my gaze away from the man. Jin hummed in response, and you lightly grabbed onto his elbow. “We should probably get going, especially since we’re not buying anything.

“Yeah, just another moment,” he said as his attention turned to another of the beautiful objects.

“I don’t like how the guy at the register is looking at you, Seokjin,” you quietly said, although you weren’t sure why you bothered being quiet when you were pretty sure no one else in the store would have been likely to understand Korean. “I’m sorry, but I really think we should go.”

Jin looked away from the items behind the glass to glance at you, no doubt seeing the concern on your face. He didn’t bother looking at the man, knowing you wouldn’t lie about something like that, before nodding and seeming to decide that it was best to listen to you.

As you were turning around and about to leave, Jin almost bumped into the man who had managed to quietly approach us while we were distracted.

Before we could say or do anything else, the man asked, “Can I help you?” rather sternly. He also seemed to have been speaking slower than normal.

“We just saw the crystals in the window and wanted to take a look at them,” you responded in English, attempting a smile.

He looked the both of you up and down. “Oh, so you do speak English,” he mumbled. Then at a normal volume, “Well, are you going to buy or not?”

You did your best to keep the smile on your face despite how rude this man was being. You knew that the conversation was simple enough that Jin could understand as well, so you hoped that his poker face and acting skills were being useful right now. “Unfortunately not. They’re very pretty, but a bit out of our price range. We were just about to leave. Have a nice day, sir.”

You tugged on Jin’s arm to make sure he knew that was a cue to start walking towards the door. Once you were outside, you let out a deep breath, glad that was over and done with.

“Well, that was rude,” Jin said.

“Yeah, told you I didn’t like how he looked at you,” you replied.

“Oh well, at least we’ve had a nice day overall though.” Jin turned to you to smile as you continued walking. “One rude guy isn’t going to ruin this really nice day I’ve had with you, Y/n.”

“Yeah, of course not,” you replied, returning his smile despite still being a little shaken. He was right, one person shouldn’t ruin the rest of the lovely day you had. “Let’s get back now, hm?”

By the time you made it back, it was evening and everyone there was eating dinner.

“Nice of you to join us, hyung,” Namjoon said through a mouthful of food.

“Did you guys have a nice time?” Hoseok asked, a little more mannerly.

“Yes, we did!” Jin said with a smile. “I missed spending time with Y/n.”

“We see her every day,” Yoongi said.

“You know what I mean,” Jin retorted. Yoongi shrugged in response.

Not wanting to intrude on their personal time, yo just quickly greeted everyone before saying, “I should probably get back to my hotel room. I’ll be seeing you guys tomorrow.”

“Oh, hold on a minute Y/n,” Jin said as he dug through his bag. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” you asked. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” He found what he was looking for and enthusiastically pushed the little box toward you. “Open it.”

You carefully took the box from him, opening the lid to find a bracelet. A charm bracelet like the ones that you saw in the case at the tourist shop. The charms adorning the bracelet were all letters. You gently picked it up, and as you analyzed them you realized there were eight separate sets of letters – RM, J, SG, JH, JM, V, JK, and (your initials) – representing the seven members of BTS and yourself. These little charms weren’t the most expensive thing, but that many letters couldn’t have been cheap! But also, how did he know?

“Jin, what?” you asked after a few moments of not being able to find your voice from the surprise. “How…?”

“I saw you looking at them in the shop,” he said. “When I went back in, asking you to wait outside? I had gone back in to buy that for you. I wasn’t sure what other charms you’d like, but figured I couldn’t go wrong with that.”

“It’s…” you were having trouble finding words as you turned away from the bracelet to look at your friend. “Thank you,” you settled on, smiling widely. “It’s really thoughtful, Seokjin. I love it. Thank you.”

He smiled back before taking the bracelet from you to clasp it around your wrist.

You rushed over to the others to show them the bracelet he got for you, hoping that your enthusiasm over the simple charms showed them how much they all meant to you. You’d definitely be sure to treasure this gift for as long as you could.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 29 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @misohime​ @netflix-batman-sleep​ @smallbaby-cat​ @leitholdwithlove​ @ramyagovindraj​ @leesalts​ @rjsmochii​ @overtherainbow35​

Send me a message or ask if you want tagged! And also feel free to leave comments or send asks to just talk to me!

[hippychick006]

15.13: Destiny’s Child - Episode Review/Recap

[Image of episode missing, because out of 15 photos of the promo, only 1 photo was of Sam and Dean and it wasn’t that good.  Other 14 photos were a combination of Ruby, Jo, Castiel and Jack - I shit you not]

I think this episode highlights beautifully many of the issues I and I know a lot of other people are having with the show.

The highlights of the episode are undoubtedly the scenes where AU Sam and Dean interact with our Sam and Dean.  This is why I make a big deal of how much they are being paid per episode. Look at what happens when you write for the people earning the quarter of a million dollars in the episode.  Look what happens when you have it just be them, with no “fan favourite” side characters to pander to.  Chemistry happens, and watering that down or separating it entirely, adding someone into it or trying to force it between characters who just don’t have it, is one of the shows biggest issues in recent seasons and largest contributor to people not watching live or choosing not to watch at all because without that chemistry that made the show special, what are you left with?

Drabbernatural my friends, that’s what you’re left with.

The lowlights of the episode are all the scenes that have been written to pander to a small percentage of the watching audience, so pretty much the rest of the episode in all honesty.  

Under a cut because some people are in denial.

THEN

Flashback to Castiel watching porn about a pizza man.  All that’s in my head from this is Meg!  I think we’re getting Meg (let’s be real, I know we’re getting Meg as it’s already been on my dash, but I would have still thought this regardless of spoilers).  There it is, there’s the canon Megstiel kiss 😍. I’m amazed Dabb managed to keep his big mouth shut on this spoiler.  Anyway, skip this in the entirety to move onto...

NOW

Loved, loved, loved this opening scene. 🥰. Loved everything about it from start to finish.  No complaints whatsoever.

We start with Sam and Dean.  Just Sam and Dean like the good old days 😍. I can’t believe how happy that makes me and they haven’t done anything yet.  

Sam’s going through the books, Dean’s on the laptop, barely any space between them and they appear to be trying to find where Chuck is. They seem to be having no luck.

Sam: Any sign of him? Dean: Nah, nothing yet.  Chucks probably trashing a few dozen universes outside of CNN’s range.

They hear a noise and rush to investigate.  They see a bright light filtering through the bottom of the door of one the rooms. As they look at it, the light (as well as the noise) disappears.  Instantly in hunter mode, Dean indicates for Sam to open the door and they see…

A tiny car that I thought was a mini but have been reliably informed by someone much more knowledgeable than me (which isn’t too difficult tbh) is a Fiat 500. Thank you @alexa-alcantara​.  It’s a cute little car, and a beautiful colour but my own experience of owning a Fiat is not a good memory.  My garage telling me they call them the “Fix It Again Tony” of cars did not help me look any more favourably at them, but on the plus side, I built up a good relationship with my garage from the many hours I spent there.  The car is in front of a portal so it’s clear it’s just come through from one of the other worlds.

Emerging from that cute little car is 12’ 6” of muscle in the form of AU Winchesters.  The car practically groans in relief (I do see it lift up slightly) as they get out to the tune of “I want you” by Savage Garden.” Thank you once again Shazam as I’m as shit on music as I am at identifying cars.  

Did I say I love this scene?  I just…love this entire scene. AU Dean’s in the driving seat (of course), We see AU Sam’s foot emerge and he has no socks on – which I’m wondering is a shoutout to that photo shoot they had with no socks. Possibly it’s the fashion right now which I know even less about than cars or music. The entire scene, it’s just… perfection.  It’s just so well shot, I love that AU Sam and Dean could not be more different from our Sam and Dean from their clothes to the hair. I’ve fallen in love with both these new characters within a 10 second timeframe and they haven’t even spoken yet! That is the genius of Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles on screen, together, without extras, supported by the entire crew from special effects through to wardrobe.  They can all bring their A game which makes it all the more disappointing in the scenes and episodes where they don’t bother.

AU Dean looks back at the portal they came through.

AU SAM: Bro…We did it

AU Sam and Dean fist bump at their success and I’m in danger of losing it.  😂 Side note to size kinkers; that is not Jared and Jensen’s hands there 😂. Hey, no judging from this blog, but I personally don’t consider Jared “huge” and Jensen “tiny”, but you do you.

AU Sam and Dean are too flushed with their own success of getting through the portal to notice our Sam and Dean yet.  Meanwhile, our Sam and Dean are looking at the new arrivals with increasing horror.

AU Dean finally notices our Dean and we get the “Sam” “Dean” “Dean” “Sam” exchange between the four of them.

AU Sam and Dean: What the heck? Our Sam and Dean: What the hell?

Somewhere, I’m hoping that there’s an AU world where they say, “What the fuck?” because I think that would really please Jared.

Each look horrified at the other – I think AU!Sam may be on the point of tears seeing his doppelgänger dressed in plaid.

The portal starts making a loud ominous noise, AU Dean says “aw nuts” and AU Sam and Dean look at each other before the portal goes haywire, exploding in a bright white light, causing our versions to shield their eyes.  When they look back up, AU Winchesters, the car and the portal have all disappeared and the room is back to normal.

What the Heck?  You bring them back right now show!  Don’t be bringing in waste of space or “fan favourite” characters when all I want is these two.  

Sadly, the show does not listen, and we’re forced against our will onto the next scene.

Sam and Dean are explaining to waste of space that a rift opened in the armoury (is that right? I didn’t see any weapons in that room, but it sounded like he said armoury).  Sam says two guys stepped out that looked just like them. Dean: except not, and don’t even get me started about the car. Waste of space does not understand which is his standard operating procedure since his first episode tbh.  I’m not sure if this is still supposed to be funny; it’s been 11 years since season 4. 😴. 

Dean says welcome to the club.  

What?  The dumbass club?  Sam and Dean are such dumbasses that they need Billie to suddenly appear to confirm they’ve met an AU version of themselves running from their reality. Seriously?  😡. They know other worlds are being destroyed, they rescued Kaia from one in the process of being destroyed and that was only last week!  They don’t think that other Sam and Deans in other universes are going to be figuring out what’s happening and trying to do something to stop it?  It doesn’t make sense.  Sam and Dean do reckless things, but they aren’t dumb. 😡

As an aside, what I loved about the AU Sam and Dean we just met, is that they didn’t try to save their world, they were only interested in saving their own pretty asses by trying to jump worlds and I love how different they are from our Sam and Dean who would, and have, sacrificed themselves in a heartbeat to save their world.

I used to like Billie but all the monologuing over the last couple of episodes is 😴 which is not the actresses fault, but there are also some issues with delivery of the lines (because it’s boring). Key point from this entire boring scene is:

Billie: He’s almost done, wrapping up all those other worlds and when he is…Sam: it’s our turn

Billie agrees and says they need to be prepared.  She has the next step… for Jack.

Jack appears on cue, eating a sandwich.  He says he’s ready and feeling good about it.  I’m feeling I’m missing a scene somewhere. Did he already have a chat with Billie, so he knows what she’s about to say?  I’m not sure but don’t care enough to spend any time on it.

Billy monologues that the first quest (eating the hearts) was to strengthen Jack’s body. Step 2 is more spiritual in nature.

Waste of space: can you be more specific? Me: you’re that asshole that asks questions during presentations, aren’t you? Give her a chance to monologue ffs.  She was just about to tell us before your unnecessary interruption. I don’t even have a clue what your contribution to this scene is, other than pre-emptory meltdown avoidance of 200 accounts on twitter.  Death: Jack needs to find the occultum Sam: the occultum? Occultum, that’s Latin for… hidden. Where do we find it? Me: you’re so smart 😍 Death (sarcastic): I don’t know… It’s hidden

Ah yes, a side character making the Winchesters look stupid never gets old. 🙄

Anyway, more boring monologuing later, it’s been hidden for centuries, it’s sacred and potent.  It’s not a weapon per se but it’s powerful.

Dean(sarcastically): Okay, thanks, big help.

She asks Jack if he’s ready and he says he is. She says that’s good, that they have to be ready and vigilant and not stupid (looks at the Winchesters).  Dean’s eyeroll matches mine almost exactly.  Sick, fed up of the Winchesters being called stupid by side characters.  Oh, I said that already.  Well I am!

Avoiding this scene in future and moving on.

Sam and Dean are researching the occultum.  Or at least Sam’s researching and ranting about the occultum, but Deans playing with an elastic band and barely listening. Sam gets his attention and asks what he’s doing. Dean’s thinking about things and how if Jack kills god, that still leaves “you know who”. Sam says: Amara. Dean thinks that if Jack kills god, he’ll have to kill her too, because if you take Chuck off the board, that throws things out of balance and the world ends. If there’s no God or Darkness, nothing is out of balance.

Sam: Okay, Yeah, but who takes over, Jack?

Dean contemplates that and is about to answer when Jack walks in, blowing a bubblegum bubble and announcing he just learned how to do that.

Dean turns back to Sam: Probably not

I love little scenes like this, zero pandering, just classic Supernatural and classic Dean. 😍

Overall, it was another good brother scene (taking aside the boring plot which we can’t do anything about).

Parents Sam and Dean speak to Jack about how he’s going to take down Chuck because Billie hasn’t been clear on the plan.

Dean: Yeah, when you go up against Chuck, you’re gonna what? (makes boxing moves), duck and weave, or just go in for the full smite? 😂

My Dean is back with the one liners in this episode and I love him.  

Jack: Yeah, you know, something like that

Dean’s face. 😂

Unsurprisingly Sam and Dean are not reassured, they’re about to ask more questions when waste of space walks in and good news guys!  Unbelievably, He has information from fellow waste of space/plot device Sergei (does waste of space only have one contact?).  The show aren’t even trying anymore with this shit. Istg. 🙄 Ah what would we do without waste of space?  Definitely have a much more decent episode if I’m going to be perfectly honest.

Anyway, when waste of space announces who he has information from:

Dean: Him? Are we that desperate? 😂

Of course, Sergei knows about the occultum 🙄. He would have been extremely useful to have had around in the early seasons. Each episode would have been tied up in 30 seconds with one phonecall to the font of all knowledge.  I hate characters like this and the laziness of the writing to continue to fallback on him.

Supernatural writer: Hey boss, I’m stuck a little on the occultum storyline Dabb: Have you tried using waste of space and Sergei? Supernatural writer: I didn’t think of that! Great idea, thanks!  I guess that’s why you’re the boss! Me: 🙄 you lazy 🤬

Waste of space monologues about the occultum and what happened to it, he starts off that its divine in origin and was housed in a temple for hundreds of years before…

Dean: it was plundered by pirates! Waste of space: No Dean: it was dug up by tomb raiders! Waste of space: No Dean: it was seized by the king of the dead and his war lords.  Am I close? Waste of space: looted by invading mongol hoardes for trade on the black market Dean: on the black market (looks at Sam) That’s what I thought. I was going to say that next, that was the next one.

Sam indulges his hunter husband.  Oh wait, this is our Sam and Dean, not the AU version.  Rewinds to check.  No, Sam is indulging his hunter husband. He asks waste of space where it is now.

Long explanation later, the object was given to a faith healer in return for saving the owners life.  

Faith healer?  How convenient.  Now, who do we know that’s a faith healer? 🙄

Waste of space doesn’t have a name – are you kidding me? He must have had a name to go to the faith healer. He at least has a description.  She was attractive 🙄 and had glowing hands while healing.

It’s your wife, Jensen!  Erm I mean, Sister Jo.  

Imagine that entire scene with waste of space and Sergei plot device removed, Sam found the information from research and that entire conversation was between him and Dean.  Infinitely better and rewatchable.

Sam and Dean go off to visit Jensen’s wife Sister Jo who at this point of the show’s run has somehow been cast in 4 previous episodes and every single appearance has been completely forgettable.  This one is no different.

I’m going to rant for a second.  This stunt casting, bringing back of “fan favourites”, nepotism, lazy writing crap is really dragging the quality of the show down. We’ve had so many shit, boring, waste of time episodes this season.  You could have replaced a couple of them with the Winchesters trying to track down this elusive but needed item.  Make it hard for them, get rid of Sergei and Jensen’s wife Sister Jo and make the finding of this artefact interesting and more believable by introducing new characters for them to interact with.  This is just… really bleh.

Anyway, Sam and Dean go to see one of the most boring characters ever created, and that includes waste of space who was badass in season 4-5, a dick yes, but a badass none the less so he gets a pass.  This is not a good scene, it’s worth fast forwarding and forgetting it ever existed, not least because of bad dialogue and questionable acting. I am really, really not a wife hater, but neither will I give someone a free pass because of who they are married to.  You come on the show, you get judged on your own merits, same as any other guest actor. Long story short, they want the thingamajig I’ve forgotten the name of because I had a 6 hour watching break to work up to watching this scene and that was not nearly long enough. Jo doesn’t want to give it to them, and Sam and Dean pull angel blades on her.  She says she didn’t have it, Ruby does.

Where’s that gif.  Where the fuck is that gif?  Oh, found it…

This next scene, I just 😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬.  Okay, I can do this, woman’s up and presses play, weeping for what once was the entire time I’m watching.  

We get a pointless scene which as predicted, is nothing less than a gimmick, written only to have “the wives” on the show in the same episode and in the same scene.  I think this is the angriest I’ve ever been watching a show and we haven’t reached the point in the episode where Sam is reduced to a doorstopper.  Oh yes, that gem has still to come.  🤬😡🤬!!!

Somehow, even though Ruby is terrified of angels and Jo wasn’t on earth at the same time as Ruby, they somehow not only met, but worked together.  Jo says the vessel suits Ruby better than the blond.  Not in this household missy.  We stan the infinitely better Katie Cassidy (fine there might have been a childhood crush on watching reruns of her father that sways the debate in her favour slightly but that’s neither here nor there!).

Okay, no sorry.  I thought I could take one for the team, but I can’t. This entire scene would not ever have been made if the show was in the hands of a competent showrunner.  It’s just complete nonsense with absolutely no attempt by the writer to respect the audience or canon and not worth even documenting what happens as it’s all a crock of 💩. Do yourselves a favour and ignore it.  All you need to know is Ruby has the thingamajig they need. It was stashed somewhere in hell.

Back at the bunker, Jack has take out, lots and lots of take out; pizza (no pineapple), fried chicken, hot dogs, nachos, Chinese food… Waste of space joins him.  They talk about Jack not having a soul.  Jack says he understands why Sam and Dean were angered by what happened to Mary

Castiel: by what you did to Mary

He gets a pass for this line (and his name back briefly) because it needed to be said so he wasn’t a waste of space for once.

Jack sees things have changed, especially with Dean.  

I see a bit of chatter on this one.  I don’t understand the chatter.  Sam forgives people, this goes way back that he’s able to forgive people and not hold a grudge.  He’s had a darkness inside him his entire life, he’s had to fight against his nature to be who he is, so of course he’s going to be more forgiving, more understanding of someone he sees as being similar to him.  Add to the fact that Sam did not build a strong relationship with Mary - he’s sad she’s gone - but I think he’s more accepting of it than Dean. All of this has been shown in episodes, so when Jack asks, “Will he ever forgive me?”  He’s not asking about Sam because he knows through Sam’s words and actions that Sam has forgiven him, but he knows Dean hasn’t.  I don’t have an issue with this, and you know I’m a bitter Sam fan, I’ll reserve my anger for later in the episode.

So, for me, waste of space only talks about Dean for the same reason (and shockingly not because he’s gay for the human).  He says, “Dean, he feels things more acutely than any human I’ve ever known, so it’s possible he can work through this. One day he may explode, let it all out and breath deeply and move on.”

Jack asks how long that will take. waste of space says he doesn’t know.

I understand the point of the scene, it’s not the worst. I’d prefer if my boys were saving people, hunting things obviously, but this was an okay scene.  I do like Alex and what he brings to the table – though don’t like when too much focus is put on him or Sam’s relationship with him is sidelined.

Sam and Dean return to the bunker.  Dean asks if Sam’s sure they can swing this again.  Sam says they still have Rowena’s notes from the spell. Dean: Okay, Samwitch, lets do this.”  I love how Dean hates witches, he was still wary of Rowena though could see her uses, but the minute Sam is a witch, Dean’s all aboard the witch train. 😂

Waste of space appears, Dean tells him that they sorta know where the occultum is.  Waste of space looks worried and they know something is wrong. They follow him through the bunker to one of the rooms.  Their AU selves are projected on the wall.  I just… Why was the entire episode not their doppelgängers?  I love them. AU Dean screams (but we can’t hear him). AU Sam seems far more relaxed about the situation.  They can’t see or hear our Sam or Dean.  Sam asks waste of space where they are.

Waste of space thinks the blast trapped them between dimensions as the rift and their world was destroyed.  AU Dean tapping on the wall, and trying to get a cell phone signal, I just can’t… 😂

Dean: Are they in pain? Waste of space doesn’t think so.  Dean says “Good” goes to leave.  Sam tries to stop him.  Dean says they’ll deal with them, but first they have to go to hell. Waste of space: woah, you do?

Sam explains that’s where Jo said Ruby stashed the occultum

Waste of space: Ruby? The demon you were sexually intimate with?   Dean: Sexually intimate? Sam (strongly): Yes!

I’ve seen a lot of chatter on this one as well. Some claiming that Dean is questioning the choice of wording by waste of space.  I don’t see that.  I see this as another fail, that they are somehow trying to claim Dean doesn’t know Sam and Ruby had a sexual relationship, even though Sam went into it in explicit detail in “I know what you did last summer”, to the point Dean asked him to stop.  If they were going for the choice of wording, they failed in both facial expressions and dialogue.

They have a discussion, not worth repeating, too much focus on waste of space. Upshot is Sam and Dean are going to Hell.  

Sam and Dean arrive on the Charmed set in Hell.  I’m expecting them to meet Julian McMahon striding down the corridor.  They meet a demon who informs them that Rowena is hosting a reception for newly condemned souls.  The demon doesn’t seem happy about that. He starts taking them to Rowena.  This is a pretty pointless scene tbh.

Back in the bunker, waste of space says to Jack that he doesn’t trust Jo’s story, he wants to speak to Ruby who apparently is in the empty.  I’m losing it with where entities end up these days. I’m guessing if demons are exorcised, like Meg was, then they go back to Hell.  If they are killed permanently, like Alastair was by Sam, they end up in the Empty?   I guess it makes sense.

Anyway, waste of space needs Jack’s assistance to get to the empty. He needs Jack to kill him…

Damn, false alarm, it’s only an “almost kill”.  Yeah, I would probably be too thorough.  Okay Jack, carry on, you’re up.

I don’t understand how he’ll be able to do anything in the empty, won’t he be kept in a state of nothing?

Jack reminds waste of space that the empty doesn’t like him. Waste of space says he’s far from happy so he should be okay.

Jack: Cass, I, I may not have a soul, but I know killing you is wrong, what if I screw up? Waste of space: well then, I’ll be lost forever… but I think you’ll do fine.

Jack has to draw out most of waste of space’s life force into a flask, and keep an eye on him so he doesn’t die for real. He also has to tend the spell to ensure Sam and Dean are not lost in Hell forever either (but to me it seems really easy to get in and out of, not like the early days so don’t see them being stuck there as a problem).  Remember back in season 2 when hell was this...

Sam: Hell is like, um ... (punches Dean)... well, it's like hell, even for demons. (punches Dean again)... It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear. 

Good times.  Now we have Barbie!Hell and anyone can just walk in and it isn’t scary.  But yeah, tell me again that I should stop being critical and the show hasn’t deteriorated beyond all recognition

Sam and Dean follow the lackey they met in Hell to where Rowena is hosting a meet and greet for the new arrivals to Hell.  Or at least that’s where they were supposed to be taken, turns out it’s a trap. Of course, it is, because dumchesters 🙄, but at least we get a decent fight out of it as they are set upon by three demons carrying angel blades.  Dean kills two, Sam holds the third hostage so they can find out who betrayed them. Unsurprisingly it was Jo 🙄 Sam then kills the demon (after Dean gives a nod to do so).

Dean: that bitch set us up!

We switch to sister Jo and see her packing up and leaving, so she must know her plan failed, and Sam and Dean will soon be after her.

We’re now in The Empty with waste of space and for sure as shit, this scene changing whiplash, disregard of canon, lack of continuity between other episodes, focus on side characters has to mean this is a suck-lemons episode. He’s shouting for Ruby.  He doesn’t get her, we hear, “Hello Clarence”

Waste of space spins around and it’s Meg!  He’s so happy to see her and disappointed that it’s the empty. No offence to Rachel, love her, she does great in the episode and Megstiel will always be canon, but just not interested in any of this.

Next scene is waste of space and Ruby.  Fast forwarding other than to say no sweetie, Sam didn’t kill you, but I don’t blame you, I blame the writers who are too lazy to do any research. Sam should have killed you, but it was Dean that did it.  

Another scene between Ruby and Jo, as forgettable as the first.   Lucifer and Michael weren’t circling their vessels when you were still breathing you morons.   Lucifer hadn’t yet been released, but what is canon on this show when you can blast it aside and have the wives in a scene together and isn’t it wonderful?  Eh, I’m gonna say hard no on that one.

Another scene between Ruby and waste of space. In true Ruby style, she’ll help him if he gets her out of the empty.  Oh, and the occultum is a place, not a thing, that’s all we need to know.

Fast forwarding all of this as it’s pandering trite, not worthy of my time, besides the dumbchesters are back from Hell and I think Jack might be in trouble with them.

Jack (guilty): Guys… you’re back Dean (looking between Jack and waste of space’s body): Jack? What the hell?

Severe whiplash alert!  We’re back with Ruby and waste of space. Ruby monologues that the Empty is a place where all you do is dream about your regrets over and over for eternity.  Well then, just as well I have no regrets in life, other than watching seasons 12-14 of Supernatural.  Wait, imagine that on repeat for eternity.  NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Waste of space says he knows.  In fairness to waste of space, at least he will have a vast range of playbacks on the amount of regrets he should have over the years, so he won’t get bored anytime soon.

Whiplash alert!  We’ve left the corned beef actors and are back with the porterhouse steak.  They advance on Jack.

Jack: He’s dead, kind of… for now Sam: What?!

Whiplash!  Get me back to the porterhouse damn it!   Waste of space agrees to try to get Ruby out, she whispers in waste of space’s ear, “the occultum, it’s…”

Whiplash!  I’m suing at this point in the episode tbh.  

Jack: Cass went to the empty, hopefully to find Ruby, hopefully to find out where this occultum thing is located, hopefully (puppy eyes)

Whiplash!  Ruby steps away and disappears.  Waste of space’s face is interesting, and I’m intrigued where it is.

Whiplash!  

Sam and Dean’s faces. 😂

Sam: that’s way too many hopefullys! Dean: Bring him back, now!

Okay Hellers, here’s a test.  If Sam had said that line, would you have interpreted it as Sam speaking as a parent or Sam concerned about waste of space because he’s secretly in love with him? Dean is obviously concerned, but he’s speaking to Jack as a parent.  

Jack opens the flask to release waste of space’s grace.  But The Empty (still in Meg’s form) is reluctant to let him go.  Turns out as she’s torturing waste of space that The Empty has a deal with Death, she helps Death and she can go back to sleep when Death’s plan works.  We alternate between waste of space being tortured and Jack trying to revive him.

Dean: come on, wake up pal. Dean: Come on Cass, come on Dean: Cass!

Pandering!  

Waste of space wakes up.  The Empty says, “see you soon”

I hope she does because yes, I love watching a show where my leads are made out to be dumbasses and the waste of space that should have been killed off years ago is the hero.  I’m losing count of how many episodes that’s happened this season. Sick of it. 🤬

Waste of space (looks at Dean): you made it back Dean: Yeah, and so did you!  You’re an idiot by the way! Sam chimes in: What if this hadn’t worked?

Waste of space says it did [work].  The occultum was never in Hell.  The occultum is the safest place in the world. Jo was never going to give that up. Waste of space knows where it is and asks, “Am I still an idiot?”

I’m actually so angry right now.  Who does this?  What shitty writer makes their lead cast look like idiots in order to big up a side character. What does he have on someone because I’m at a loss for any other logical explanation at this point for them willingly ruining the show.

Anyway, Dean says “well yeah”. Me: hell to the fuck yeah, you’re still an idiot and I hate you even more after this episode than I did before.

Sam wants to go to the place.

Jack reminds them if Chuck checks in on them and sees what they’re doing, they’ll lose.

Dean’s plan involves using their doppelgängers to pretend to be them.  They’ll open up a rift and he thinks waste of space’s grace will be enough to pull them through. Sam thinks it might also blast them to another world.

AU Sam and Dean are playing rock, paper, scissors.  AU Sam throws scissors and wins.  AU Dean’s reaction. 😂

Sam mixes up the spell for the portal and they place it at the wall where AU Sam and Dean are trapped.  Bright light later and…

… it obviously works because AU Sam and AU Dean are now sitting at the map table with a beer in front of each of them.  Our Sam and Dean are currently standing.  And I cannot do any justice to this scene.  It is perfect from start to finish.  Go watch the genius of Jared and Jensen at play with no one else cluttering up the scene.

Upshot of this scene is that AU John is (or was) alive, they got separated coming through the portal. He spoils them, (Dean: he spoils you?!) John has set up a very successful business called Huntercorp. They get paid (Dean: you get paid?!) for hunting monsters all over the world and have a private jet.  I would ask what they’re doing driving around in a Fiat 500 instead of a luxury car, but I’m having too much fun, so it gets a free pass and I won’t nitpick.  Let’s headcanon it’s all they could get a hold of to get through the rift and leave it at that.  They keep toasting their beers to their dad, “the best guy ever” but they don’t seem too cut up that he and their world have gone splody.  I love these versions, they seem to be fine they made it through and they have each other.  I’d like to see one without the other as I think they’d give our brothers a run for their money in the codependency stakes.  

AU Sam’s pinkie is raised while he drinks, and I can’t with the silent genius that is Jared Padalecki when he inhabits a character.

Our Sam and Dean during all of this. 😂.

Dean explains to the AU’s that they need them to pose as them for a while.   In order to do that, Sam tells his AU self he has to lose the man bun.  AU Sam’s reaction 😂.  He is not happy.  AU Dean closes his eyes and sits back, putting a hand over his mouth.  I thought at first he wasn’t happy at our Sam, but no, the reaction is because he knows how his Sam reacts about his hair (*whispers* I suspect AU Dean has suggested many times that AU Sam let his hair down… for reasons and AU Sam has refused, so its an old argument).  Sure enough, AU Sam says he will not.  Our boys ignore that and also tactfully suggest they will need to change their clothes.

Next, we see the impala at night, driving towards a church. All TFW 2.0 are in the car. 🙄

They walk up to the church doors and Jack says he knows he hasn’t been doing this as long as them, but doesn’t it seem too easy.

They agree and at that moment hear a growling.  

Jack: is that a bear?

Dean starts trying to get the church doors open by picking the lock

Sam: No, it’s more like uh… Waste of space: hellhounds Sam (as the hellhounds are approaching): Dean… Dean, you wanna hurry a little bit?

Dean gets the door open and they all get inside just in time. Sam and Dean get the door closed and Dean asks Sam if he’s got it.  I’ve seen a lot of chatter on this one. This scene alone highlights one of the many, many things wrong with the show and why it’s no longer enjoyable.  I think they were trying for ha ha comedy. Sam trying to keep the door closed while they are all standing around like idiots, but it isn’t funny and reduces Sam down to muscle rather than what he actually brings to the show, and both waste of space and Jack are stronger. 

Waste of space should have been holding the door (or not been there at all, which is preferable) and the scene should have been Sam, Dean and Jack.  No excuses for why it wasn’t done this way (other than pandering).  A line of pandering is annoying but acceptable, sidelining Jared to cater an entire scene to them is completely unncceptable. You’ve pissed off the Jared/Sam fans which are many more than Misha/Castiel (despite what they try to tell themselves), and you’ve pissed off the brother fans which are the majority of the audience.

Waste of space says the top of the cross points the way and they all look up at the cross high on the church wall.

As a side note, the Hellers are so cute, counting Sam and Dean standing in a church with their “son” as their wedding.  Refrains from slapping 8.23 down in front of them where Dean actually said some vows along the lines of “don’t you ever dare think there is anything past or present that I would put in front of you!” 😍

Sam (being paid $250k for this): Guys! Can you maybe move it along?

That’s not the cross they are looking for, because at that point, clouds miraculously clear outside, allowing moonlight to shine through a window and highlights an area on the church floor.  I mean I like that x marks the spot but I’m not sure about time of day/year and position in the sky etc. to know if this is realistic, like will it still be the exact same spot at 6pm in December as it is midnight in summer?

Jack points it out to them and Dean bends down to open the floorboard.  

Sam: Guys, I can’t hold them forever!

Dean lifts the floorboard which contains a velvet bag. He opens the bag and pulls out a golden snitch.  He hands it to waste of space and asks if it’s a map. Jack suggests it might be a key.   Waste of space reads the enochian passage on the golden snitch (which if he hadn’t been written into this scene, Sam could have done that).  

Golden Snitch: in order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you. Me (immediately): swallow it!

There’s a reason Sam’s holding the doors closed as he’d have got that within a second.  The others are just looking around dumbly. 🙄

Back with AU Winchesters and AU Sam, wearing plaid, man bun still in place, is watching “powderpuff princess and friends” channel on the laptop, which seems to be about kittens. 😂   AU Dean appears carrying two beers

Au!Dean: they said lose the man bun, Samuel (love that he goes by Samuel) Me: Wow, AU Dean really wants Sam to let his hair down…for reasons AU Sam: look, hillbilly clothes are bad enough, I have to draw the line somewhere and my hair… is sacred (Jared added this 😂)

AU!Dean rolls his eyes, denied once again.

AU Sam asks what they do now.  AU Dean says, drink beer and sit in front of a computer screen

AU Sam: that’s their lives?  He’s still drinking the beer with the pinkie out. 😂. Chuck would know straight away this wasn’t Sam and Dean. Sam’s face drinking the beer. 😂 He’s high maintenance for sure.  AU Dean is much less fussy and I think would adapt quite well to the new world.

AU!Dean has found our Dean’s bustyasianbeauty.com internet history. 😂  

AU Sam: Can you imagine if dad caught us with that kind of stuff?  Goodbye trust funds.

AU!Sam’s not interested in the ladies and I don’t think he’s happy that AU Dean is either.

AU!Dean: I gotta tell you Sammy, this Sam and Dean, you know, sure they’re simple, but they’ve got this place of their own, there’s no quarterly reports, there’s no investor calls, there’s nothing to do but hunt monsters, drink beer and watch porn. AU!Sam: Yeah AU!Dean: they’ve got it made

Switch to our Sam and he’s really struggling with keeping the hellhounds out, while waste of space and Dean are arguing is another pandering scene (which has already had at least four in the episode). It’s been written solely to please the 1%ers who no doubt will create thousands of tweets from their 200 accounts with “old married couple and their son.” 

These people are incapable of looking at characters and continuity, they don’t care if it’s likely a character will do something just as long as they get content for their ship.  But I care, the majority of the audience care.  The Dean we know and love would just not under any circumstances abandon Sam at the door on his own.  This is where the writing is failing.  If they are incapable of writing a scene that makes sense in the bigger scheme of things, that doesn’t change the standard operating procedure of one of the two leads, then it has no place in the show.  I could have written a scene between waste of space and Dean that would have given the 1%ers more than enough fodder (they get excited over lamps, it wouldn’t be that hard to do), while at the same time, not ruining Dean’s core character or sidelining Sam to be a doorstopper for an entire fucking scene. Besides, all the old married couples I know are old and still married because they never argue, they finish each other sentences and smile fondly at their idiot other half when they do something idiotic, because it’s their idiot.  Kind of like… Sam and Dean.

Jack ignores them as much as I do, he turns away while they are still arguing. When he turns back, Dean looks at him, 

Dean: “Where’s the thing?” Jack: I ate it Dean: You What?! Jack: well, he said it had to be in me… so… Dean (internally) Sammy’s going to fucking kill me. (Externally) No! spit it out! Jack (laughing): it’s fine, nothings happening

Something’s definitely happening as Jack doubles over in pain.  Sam can only watch helplessly from the door as a bright light erupts from within Jack and then he disappears.

Again, that scene would have been infinitely more watchable if waste of space hadn’t been shoved into the space Sam should have been, but no, he’s still holding a fucking door closed.  I shit you not. 😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬🤬😡🤬😡🤬🤬🤬!

Jack wakes up in what we find out is the garden of Eden.  The creepy little girl from Angel approaches him.  “You must not be human, humans may not enter here, are you an angel?”  Jack says it’s complicated but asks why humans can’t be here. She says they were banished, and god hid the garden away from them. Jack says he was told the place might change him somehow.  She responds that it might if he’s the chosen one. He’ll know soon enough.  She leaves him alone.  I’m speculating at this point that Jack isn’t the right person, but Sam is.

We whiplash briefly back to the church.  Yes, my fellow Sam fans, Sam is still a $250k doorstopper while waste of space and Dean continue to argue.  This isn’t good drama for anyone.  Dean is completely ooc in not helping Sam.

Harry Potter Jack meets the garden of Eden snake.  Luckily Jack can understand parcel-tongue as the snake talks to him. Who are you really? Who are you meant to be?

We get various flashbacks, none of which show Sam all that much, and I think that’s deliberate, though badly done.  The one person Jack has never had to question until the malac box was Sam.  I still maintain that Jack knows Sam forgives him and loves him unconditionally, but he knows Dean doesn’t, which is why the focus was on Dean.  The annoyance would have been much less if Sam hadn’t been a doorstopper in place of a significantly lesser character.

Anyway, Jack collapses on the ground and he’s crying by the end of it.  Same Jack, same tbh.

Back at the church, a bright ball of light comes through the cross window and floats down towards the church floor, right in front of Sam before moving to hover between Sam and Dean (again if waste of space hadn’t been there, this would have been a much better scene).

Sam’s thrown away from the doors and lands on the floor. Dean rushes forward to stand in front of his brother… oh wait, no, that’s in my version, the suck-lemons version has Dean actually take a step back, while the hellhounds advance on Sam who is closest to them.  Like he literally doesn’t move a fucking inch, and people are asking why we are unhappy?  Who the fuck was that, because it wasn’t Dean Winchester. 😡

The bright light gets brighter, I think it kills the hellhounds, rather than just repels them.  When the light clears, Sam sees Jack lying on the floor in front of him. He says “Jack” which draws the attention of Dean who shouts “Jack”.  Oh, that gets Dean’s feet moving 🙄.  They watch as Jack sits up and Dean asks him if he’s okay.  Jack doesn’t answer.

Back with Dean and AU!Winchesters.  Dean’s trying to herd them out the bunker, thanking them for their help.  AU!Dean suggests they could all live in the bunker together.

AU!Sam: like a club (AU!Dean points at Sam in agreement).

Our Dean doesn’t share his toys very well and thinks that would just be weird.

AU!Dean (he definitely wants our Sam, with the whole hair down thing he’s got going on): it wouldn’t be so weird

Dean knows what AU!Dean wants and tells them to go to Brazil

AU Dean asks if they can keep the flannel shirts, Dean says no, and tries to hurry them along.

AU Sam and Dean turn to go, but AU!Dean turns back and says that when they were looking around, they saw it

Dean: It? AU!Dean: the car Dean: You didn’t…. touch it AU!Sam: We “drove” in it 😉 Dean: You What?!

Awkward looks all around until AU!Dean says, “And we’re leaving…” smacking AU!Sam on the shoulder and pushing him up the bunker stairs.

AU!sam: oww, my arm, you’re hurting me!” AU!Dean: Sam! AU!Sam: Dean… Dean (angry): Have fun in Rio!

I like the scene so I’m trying not to nitpick the fact the car was with our Sam and Dean and the AU versions couldn’t possibly have found it, much less “drove” in it.

Dean goes to find Sam who is leaning on the wall outside I’m guessing Jack’s room.  He asks if the kid is okay.  Sam says he doesn’t know.  Waste of space comes out and says Jack seems to have recovered but there’s something different about him.  No one’s been to the garden since the exile, until Jack.

They all go in, yes, even waste of space, and it turns out it wasn’t Jack’s room, but the kitchen and I have to seriously question why Sam - who is unquestionably Jack’s main parent - was outside and not with him. *whispers Jared has obviously done something or not done something to bring the petty wrath of Dabb down upon his beautiful head, no other explanation at this point. Roll on Walker and Jared ensuring that show doesn’t get stolen out from under him by a backstabbing co-worker and petty showrunner.

They approach Jack and he says he is so sorry.  He is crying and says it was his fault.

Waste of space says Jack’s soul is back.

Jack looks up at Sam and Dean and asks them to forgive him but the camera focuses in only on Dean.  Pats my fellow Sam fans consolingly on their heartbroken backs.

[fictionalrambles]

Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Nine

Submitted by Mary Kate 

Sanctuary by @sfjessii​

Why I love this story:

If i have a bad day, i download this, log off and escape into this wonderful world. This is my comfort fic. I adored the way Magnus and Alec had this instant connection. Never too shy to tell the other how beautiful they are, and described so beautifully. Nala, Alec’s dog was such a vital part of this story, i really loved the way the animals were involved, especially the way Nala and Chairman Meow turned into these wonderful characters of theor own. Nala's bond with Alec was beautiful, how she reacted to his feelings, and was a support for him. This story has little bit of everything, fluff, pining, loving, makes your heart burst with love. We had Magnus' family welcoming Alec, then Alec's also welcoming Magnus! Domestic moments, mornings together at the loft, cuddling, making risotto - What’s not to love.

Favourite lines:

[“You buy pumpkins, all kinds, from me, though you’re allergic, you run after me in slippers, you are... really special.” He grins so wonderfully, Magnus can’t but smile, his cheeks suddenly heating up.]

[Magnus adores the way Alec kisses him after a long day. As if he had missed him every minute he was gone, as if he can only wholly breathe, and be at ease, once he’s with him again, as if Magnus is the reason for his happiness, his sanctuary].

[“It’s not to prove our love, or anything like that. You’re right, we don’t need that, and this won’t change anything, except that this is a once in lifetime experience - well, for us anyway - and I want to have that with you, because you’re the one, the only one, and I... really want to see that glorious wedding you planned, and you outshining everyone in your wedding tux when you bawl your eyes out," he smiles, close to tears, and takes a shuddery breath. "But most of all I want to call you my husband].

*

In the Sin Bin by @otppurefuckingmagic​

Why I love this story:

This fic was my introduction to hockey, i knew absolutely nothing about the sport before this and you really don’t need to, because it’s  so well explained in the story. I love the torture of the slow burn before Malec’s first kiss, it was so intense as there was so much anticipation and neither wanted to cross a line but also really knowing that it would eventually happen. Some of the lines in here are absolutely beautiful, and also painfully beautiful like their break-up because the break-up was because the loved the other so much they were trying to protect them which made it even harder and makes it so easy to get lost in this work. There are so many character developments here too but they happen over a period of time and not rushed which i liked and made it feel real and natural. And our protangonists work things out but there are many twist and turns along the way, and a beautiful friendship between Magnus and Max. 

Favourite lines:

[“This is crossing another line, Magnus"

"I don't even know what a line is"]

[You know,” Max called out as he approached Magnus, “it’s a pretty well established superstition that if you sit on the Raziel statue that you’re doomed to an eternity of forced abstinence.”

Magnus practically flew off the base of the statue in front of the Angels’ arena at Max’s words].

[Because there’s someone I’m involved with and I can’t deny his importance in my life—no matter what the consequences are. The blackmail, my parents.... I can let all of that shit go on the ice if he’s at my side. He and hockey are the most important things to me right now. I’m fighting for my pride as a gay man and an Angel, Coach. It’s not an either-or scenario for me—it’s both.”]

  *

Power Play by @bbmonarch​

Why I love this story:

I had originally seen Art for this story on twitter and i was so intrigued that i had to read the story. The content in this story is heavy and at times quite dark and normally content i hide away from but this one i just couldnt stay away, it’s just so well written with complex yet well-rounded characters &  i when i started reading it, i couldn’t put it down, there are two parts to this and i read it all as one and have a sob-fest. But amongst all the darkness there is enough happy/fluffy moments to keep a balance to the story and the deep love that Magnus and Alec have in this universe is one of the strongest i have seen in any other story, part of what drew me to it and why i love it so much. Another thing i liked  is the friendship between Jace and Magnus and that is something i always love in a story, like when Jace was there to look after Magnus, making sure he got back back safe and took care of Magnus so he was there and well when Alec woke up in a certain scene. We get loads of fluffy moments and cute when it was just them, the normally fearsome Alec a blushing mess when Magnus calls him everything from, pup, puppy, munchkin etc. Lastly i loved the way they cared/looked after each other when they were hurt/sick and magnus looking after Alec when he went off the rails and helping him through his addiction was amazingly sweet, even when they had broken up at the time summed them up to me. 

Favourite lines:

[Magnus smiled and looked down to where Alec was ripping the label into small pieces “Sexually frustrated?”  Alec snapped out of his thoughts and stiffened in his seat, Magnus laughed softly “It’s what they say you are if you play with the labels on your bottles”. “I don’t.. I didn’t know” Alec said and pushed the bottle away. “You didn’t know that what it meant or you don’t know if you are sexually frustrated?”]

 [“I love your eyes” He let out before he had a chance to think about what he was actually saying. “Thank you”. Alec could see in his eyes that he was smiling, not needing to take his focus away from them. “Do you wear contact lenses or something?” he asked and tipped his head slightly to the side, shivering a little as Magnus hand moved around to the back of his neck and his fingers played with the shorter hairs, like he was trying to twirl it around his fingertips. “No” Magnus was still smiling “I am just a little special”]

[‘Magnus’s eyes were filled with love as he cupped his face, leaned down over him and kissing away his tears. Closing his eyes, Alec felt Magnus’ lips against his eyelids so softly it was barely a kiss. Alec moved his hands to rest against Magnus’ knees, feel his own heartbeat echo off Magnus’ palms as Magnus pressed his hands against his chest.”]

[Alec reached for his hand and brought it up to his face and gently places a kiss against the back of it. “I love you just the same. There may be a little bit less of you but that just means the left-over love I have is spread out equally amongst the rest of you” he said, sounding adorably cheesy.

“I can’t with you” Magnus laughed, feeling better about himself than he had in a long time, maybe even before everything with Jonathan happened. “I love you so much, puppy”. Seeing Alec’s eyes light up at the nickname, Magnus regretted not using it more frequently].

*

 Love Is Not a Victory March by j__writes and @lecrit​

Why I love this story:

Tried hard to choose my fave stories for this TOP 5 Favourite's and these two writer have some amazing ones and were so difficult to choose from. I planned to have 'Bright Light's Small Town' and 'Take Me To Church' but this collab had such a huge effect that i couldn’t possibly leave it out. Honestly, one of the most beautiful, deep, meaningful stories I ever read about Alec and Magnus because the raw content and these two writers are hard-hitters when it comes to writing angst. Watching these characters pour their hearts out, falling apart, nearly breaking up and divorcing and then realizing their love was stronger than any of it and starting from scratch, building themselves up again, such an amazing thing to see and also is so very real-life. So many things (and people) had got in their way but they finally managed to communicate and begin again. Watching them fall in love all over again was such a pleasure and so beautifully written. 

Favourite lines:

[He wonders how he could have ever forgotten how it felt to fall in love with the wonder and light that is Magnus Bane. He can’t believe he ever let Magnus spend so many days in sadness. That he was the cause of that sadness. There’s so much he needs to make right]

[“There is the rawness of an open wound in their cries, their embrace certainly the only thing keeping them from completely falling apart. The distance between has been washed away,”]

[There is nothing left but the blunt honesty on his features, the same that always leads one of Alec’s earth-shattering declarations. He never seems to realize how the words he utters so candidly can throw Magnus’ whole world off balance while at the same time grounding him to the reality of Alec’s love for him. It is, quite possibly, Magnus’ favorite feeling. “Every time I think I can’t possibly love you more you just–” he shakes his head with a sense of fatality that he seems to welcome gratefully, “– God, I love you so much.”]

 [‘Carefully, he disentangles her fingers from the chain, pressing a quick kiss against her tiny hands. When he is done, he slips the necklaces off his neck and tucks them away in the top drawer, smiling down at her.]

[Three years ago, Magnus had a grim, morose thought that perhaps it had been the universe’s way of telling him that this isn’t what he should have, that this life he had dreamed of was but a dream, meant to remain unreachable like the stars. He has to believe now, no matter how foolish, that there is a star out there, far away from his reach perhaps but forever embedded in his heart, that is looking over him, over them. He hopes she can feel it, the love he had for her, and he hopes she will forgive him, for failing to protect her.]

 *

Set Me in Motion by lemonoclefox

Why I love this story:

Such a wonderful story. It’s different from the others i have listed as in this story, we start off with Alec having a boyfriend before anything happened between him and Magnus but its made very clear that this relationship is at times very one-sided and that this Raj is not the right person for Alec and he didn’t seem to have any interest in Alec’s life outside their relationship and hadn’t even met his family.  The relationship with Alec and Magnus was so natural, realistic and mature, it was obvious from the start they had chemistry but with Alec in a relationship, nothing was ever going to happen between them and they had this lovely charming friendship. And which moved forward after the break-up primarily thorough Alec looking after Magnus and making sure he was eating when he was working too hard, how sweet is that? The communication between the two is something i really love about this too and you always get the impression they’re both on the same page. There’s wonderful fun and humour between the two and even on the business side, in their jobs , they are each other’s biggest supporter, lastly the story has another thing i love in fic, a friendship between Magnus and Jace. 

Favourite lines:

[‘You don't have to sit here and wait for him," he remembers Magnus saying, that first night theytalked. "And if that's what he expects, he's probably not worth it, they never are."]

[“In more ways than one. Even when other stuff was a mess, being with you always just..."He tries to find the words, shakes his head, and Magnus finds the words for him "Made sense," he suggests gently. He turns his head, and he and Alec just gaze at each other for a few moments, the two of them suspended in time].

[I like you," Jace proclaims loudly, throwing his arm over Magnus's shoulders as they end up sitting next to each other in the far back, once the car starts moving. Magnus is squeezed in between him and Alec, and Alec is just gazing happily at his brother and his boyfriend, a drunk smile on his face. "I mean, you're a bit―" Jace gestures exaggeratedly with his hand. "But it's all good. You're alright”]

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (17/23)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: me? edit a chapter? unlikely. I'm sorry for all the mistakes. also, I know my breaks between chapters can sometimes be long and very infuriating as a reader, but right now, for my own creative energy, i’ve decided to take a break from cfois. This is only for a short time, but i’m so creatively burnt out that i’m not working on anything. I will update on tumblr and twitter when things are picking back up, but right now i’m sorry you have to wait for more. xx

Arya heard the shots, and when Robb went down, she thought the worst. Until she saw Gendry. He staggered before he eventually fell to the ground. In a moment, Arya saw everything she had held so close slip from her hands. He tried to be a strong man, holding onto his chest, and all she wanted to do was run across the short distance to him to find out what the hell just happened. He was wearing a vest, wasn’t he? How could he go down like that?

Instead, she was whisked away against her better wishes and escorted to their safe point. Throughout the entire car journey, Arya found herself begging to go back, because above everything else, she didn’t want her last memory of the man she loved to be tainted by that touch of blood on his lips as he choked for air. 

In the car, Arya was with Sansa and Bran, her brother in Sandor’s arms as they were told to get to a secure location. She found out later that the reason Sandor was carrying Bran was because once the shots were fired, they didn’t have time to get the chair in the car. They would have to get Bran a new one, as they weren’t sure if the chair would have made it through the chaos of the events. 

It was hard for Arya to concentrate when so many different reports were going around. They were whisked from one place to another, trying to get as much information out of each of them on the attack. Arya found it hard to explain what went wrong. All she remembered was the joy that washed away after she saw Robb get knocked away, but Gendry went down. She was overcome that finding the words to explain what went wrong were so far from who she was in that moment. 

Arya knew she was a pistol - she understood that she was reckless, blazing through her life and shooting through other’s lives like nothing. But in a moment of pure rage, hatred, and grief, she found Jon, who had managed to get the suspect into an interrogation room. When their eyes met, it was as if Jon knew more than Arya. she hadn’t even known how she got there, just that she found them. 

She began to storm past her brother when he caught her arm and dragged her away like it was nothing. Arya fought against him, tearing his hands from her every time he put them back ont.

“Get your hands off of me!” she snarled, wrenching herself away, trying to leap out of his grip until he held onto her by her waist, picking her up and dragging her off. 

“Arya you can’t go in there!” Jon said just as Arya brought an elbow down into his shoulder. He crumbled, letting her go for just a moment, not even enough to let her escape. She hated that he could get her to stay. 

“I deserve to pummel that asshole within an inch of his life!” she roared, trying to pull away. The door was so fucking close, she could almost touch it, but sanity kept her in place. It was her brother’s doing, but it knocked her. “Please Jon, please let me in,” she whimpered, turning back to him. 

“I can’t do that, you know I can’t,” he said, and Arya beat her fists against his chest. It was only a few fists later that her hands hit with less impact, and her heart was lurching into her throat. 

“Arya,” Jon whispered to her, her name a comfort when it came from his lips. 

“My boyfriend and love of my life just got shot. I don’t know if he’d gonna live or not. So please, let me be mad,” she asked in a huff. Jon held her by the bicep, lowering them down to the ground until they completely on the floor. Arya watched as Jon began taking deep breaths, and her having the follow suit. When she was calm, she felt herself become weak, as though her pain was dwindled by her rage. But she didn’t want it to, as when the pain rose, her eyes could spring a leak at any moment and she’d be bawling her eyes out for hours. 

“Let’s go to the hospital.” The words made Arya look up at him. He gave a soft nod of confirmation that he was serious. He’d take her there, not keep her away like everyone else would have. 

Part of her wanted to argue, but the way Jon looked at her, pleaded with her to move an inch for him was enough to get her to nod. From there, it was just following Jon until she felt like she wasn’t going to cry. She could hold it in as long as she followed Jon. That’s what she told herself anyway. 

By the time they got there, Arya found her mother and father were talking with a doctor. Arya and Jon ran to them - well, more so, Arya ran to them, Jon was just keeping up. Catelyn draped her arm over Arya’s shoulder, holding her close and kissing her forehead. 

“The prince is just fine. A few scraps and bruises, but nothing serious,” the doctor explained, as though this would have been his second or third time doing so, it was just more family coming to explain to. 

“And the bodyguard?” Arya questioned. The doctor then looked at her, sorrowful eyes that wouldn’t let her heart not break. With a sigh, the doctor pointed to two parts of his torso; one finger pressed to his side, along where his kidneys were, the other pointed at his heart. 

“He was hit three times. Two hit his side, but the one that made impact with his chest was the one that cause the most damage. We’d be surprised if he felt the two to the side without how brutally the third went through him.” 

“He was wearing a vest wasn’t he?” She’d kill him if he hadn’t - stupid, reckless bullheaded asshole. 

“If he hadn’t worn the vest, the bullet at his chest would have gone straight through him instead of how it landed. The possibility that it ripped through his heart and lungs would have been greater than the position of the bullets. He’s still in surgery, so we won’t know his condition for some time, we suggest waiting where you’re comfortable.” 

With that, the doctor gave one final nod, taking the family to Robb who was secluded amongst other patients. From the corner of Arya’s eye, she saw the other patients all gossiping and wondering what happened until the news interrupted programs on the waiting room tvs. Every second of her life was on display for the world’s consumption, and part of Arya felt like shattering. 

“I have to call Tailya. Has anyone called her yet?” Arya suddenly realised, looking around. Jon looked at her, giving her a soft shrug. 

“Not that I know of,” Jon said. 

“I should call her,” Arya said, hands roaming over her form to try and find her phone. Was it even in her pockets or did she have a purse that she completely forgot about. Jon suddenly took Arya’s wrist, taking her to sit amongst the others in the waiting room, sitting her down and kneeling in front of her. 

“Arya, maybe I should. Why don’t I get dad so he can -” 

“Can you get mum?” she interrupted. Jon stood, hand to her cheek. 

“Yeah. Of course,” he said, phone pressed to his ear, leaning down and kissing her crown. “Yes, am I speaking with Tailya Waters? It’s Jon Snow from the palace. I’m sorry I have some…” Jon left before Arya could catch more of his words. Arya’s heart broke for Tailya. It wasn’t like she could have foreseen this happening, or even if she did, she hated that Tailya had to get that call. Part of her wished she’d made the call, but she knew if she’d talked to his mother, she could have very well come apart at the seams. 

With Jon gone and her mother at her side, Arya held onto her hand, keeping herself calm. Catelyn was patient until she was beckoned away. The pair didn’t wish to part, but Arya knew her mother’s responsibility to the public and said it was fine. Once she was alone again, Arya was left with her thoughts - the ones that festered and fed into the notion that she was bound to loneliness for the rest of her life. 

It took an hour before she saw Gendry. He was wheeled out and into a seperate room. Arya rushed to the doctor that she had seen before, taking his arm and his attention in one moment. 

“How he is?” Arya asked, not caring how ridiculous or desperate she looked. She just needed to know more than seeing the man she loved lying in a bed. She hadn’t even gotten a proper look at him, she just knew it was him. The doctor took a moment, looking over to Gendry’s room before he sighed, combing back his hair 

“He’s stable for now. There was a lot of damage, but we think he’s been through the worst of it,” he said, though he extended a hand to her shoulder, almost in warning, not to give hope a chance of latching in her chest, “we’ll need to monitor him for the next few days.” Arya gave a nod before she looked at the door.  

She wanted to look in, but couldn’t bring herself to. Everything in her told her not to look - she wasn’t the same Arya she thought she was when it came to Gendry. Every day she was the tough, unbeatable woman that the world rallied behind for being an outrageous royal princess. But with him, all she was, was a woman that loved a man, simply in love. And all she could do was shatter when he was broken.

“I don’t understand how a goddamn bullet got through a bulletproof vest,” Arya said, pacing across the length of Gendry’s door. Jon stood close by, her parents and Robb having left an hour before. 

“It was a combat weapon. They’re designed to do the most impact, including going through bulletproof vests. Like the doctor said, if he hadn’t worn that, it would have torn up his insides and we’d be having a different conversation,” 

“I’m Tailya Waters, I’m just trying to -” 

“Tailya! Over here!” Arya called. Tailya perked when seeing her, rushing over and seeing that the door was right behind her. Upon the two seeing each other, Jon gave a simple nod and left the pair. 

“I want to see him,” Tailya asked. Arya hurried a nod, showing her the door. As Tailya moved past her, Arya turned - maybe it was the freedom of an open door that had her scared - that she’d jump inside and never leave. “Sweetheart?” she said before Arya looked up. With her hand extended, Tailya gave a tender smile. Arya took it and guided them both into the room. Upon seeing him, Tailya whimpered, gripping harder into Arya’s shaking hand. 

As always, Arya remained strong, but had to admit, once seeing Gendry hooked up to all those machines, she almost fell to the ground. Taking Tailya to Gendry’s bedside, his mother gripped tight to his hand as Arya went around to the other side, combing the hair out of his face, just to see him. Gendry didn’t seem like he was in pain, just an uncomfortable sleep. 

Why did it feel like her heart was breaking over everything. 

Suddenly a phone started to ring, making Tailya scramble for her phone in her bag.

“Shit, why now?” Tailya said with a sniffle in her voice. In a moment she was gone, leaving Arya alone with Gendry. He was defenseless, a man bound to his sleep, living through a pain that he never asked for. 

Arya couldn’t help it, she burst into tears, holding him with all her might. He didn’t touch her or budge as she held onto his sleeping form, and it only made her cry the harder. She didn’t care who saw her, or even if it was published in all the papers. She just wanted to hold him until he held her back. At this rate, however, there wasn’t a likely chance of that happening. As her tears dried up, Tailya coming back, Arya sat back down next to him, holding onto his hand as his mother held his other. 

Tailya explained that she had to leave the pub abruptly, which meant her regulars were phoning in to find out the news, so every time she got a call, Arya sat by her, holding her hand and making sure she was ok. It the least she could do without taking the calls herself. It wasn’t like Arya could say much to them either. 

On Arya’s end, she was called by Sansa every few hours. Even when she should have been asleep, Sansa phoned, checking up on both of them. Arya didn’t know exactly what happened between Gendry and Sansa in the short time they were paired together, but they became close enough that Sansa considered him a friend. It warmed Arya’s heart in the past - now it felt like it was breaking because Sansa may lose a friend she only just scarcely had. 

The next morning, once she had stretched out her back from the uncomfortable armchair she slept in, Arya found her phone, texting the group on Gendry’s condition and letting them know that she’d loved to be cheered up, in spite of the pain she was feeling.

By 7am, her family had conjured a smile from her. 

TO GROUP ‘The Ghost Fan Club (Jon fuck off)’ 

7:03am - Bran: wow, john mulaney foresaw the events of the day

7:05am - Rickon: bruh the tax payers paid for that :(((

7:05am - Rickon: that wheelchair is worth more than bran is

7:06am - Sansa: hes like 8th in line for the throne we can afford to lose him

7:07am - Bran: i am DISABLED

7:07am - Bran: and still i get fucking dragged 

7:10am - Jon: is it sad that my first thought was ‘you get dragged everywhere anyway’

7:10am - Bran: JONATHAN! 

7:11am - Jon: please don’t use my full name 

7:12am - Sansa: nice burn, but Jon you don’t have a name, you gave one to yourself cause you were lonely

7:13am - Jon: I thought we were making fun of Bran, not me

7:13am - Sansa: no one is safe 

Arya looked through her phone, laughing as she felt tears fill her eyes. It made it harder to see, but she didn’t care. It was the only thing keeping her happy when the man she loved remained in a bed with machines hooked up to him. It wasn’t what he deserved, but he had put his life in danger before. He worked hard to be good at what he did - he protected Robb, but at the cost of his life. It was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do - wait to see if he’d ever wake up. They weren’t sure, it wasn’t even clear if he’d ever fully recover. 

Over the course of a few days, Gendry was unhooked from machines, able to breathe on his own, it was just a waiting game until he woke up. The doctors were happy with his stitches, and could see if he woke up he’d have no complications. It was just the waiting that was killing Arya.

It had been nearly a week since Gendry had been admitted to the hospital. His mum found it hard to take herself away from work, and every time she visited, she’d end up crying and having to leave. Arya understood. Most days, she’d go into the bathroom to steal away her cries so no one would know. Everything was sacred in that room - all secrets she whispered to him were kept in that room like they had done in her bed so many countless times. 

In the meantime, the tv played, endless shows that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Arya flicked through her phone, going through some emails as a show began with ridiculous music. 

“It’s sunday so you all know what that means! It’s time for the North daily's which heartthRobb is it?”

Arya scoffed at the name, the music getting dramatic, and for a split second, Arya got interested. Picking up her phone, taking a video of the events that unfolded.

“Here we have a picture of Robb or Richard at yet another event from this week. So Shyen, our chosen audience member, you know the rules.” 

“I can’t believe this is a real fucking show,” Arya whispered, her hands shaking as she laughed. 

“Tell us which heartthrobb it is, and you'll win this weeks prize of a $1000 gift voucher to leading supermarket Winter's Harvest.” 

On the screen flashed a picture that Arya had to legitimately question whether or not it was her brother or not. It could have been Robb or Richard, as they both decided to sport that stupid grey streak in their hair. Arya contemplated, almost guessing but faltered at the last second. 

“Robb. I’d know his dumb head anywhere.” It was like the hum of a drum that echoed around the room. Arya shot her attention from the screen to the sleeping man beside her, but instead of a calm man who had just been shot, she saw a gorgeous smile that looked weak but utterly happy. She dropped her phone in an instant. 

“Gendry!” she yelled, throwing herself over him, only pulling back once she heard him wince. “Don’t you ever do that again,” Arya warned him, watching as he chuckled. She couldn’t help herself - she surged forward, stealing the smile from his lips and making it hers upon her own. When he sighed against her, Arya cried, a breath of life she hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to have again. His tired arms came around her, pulling her onto the bed, both holding onto each other with every ounce of love they could spare in that moment. 

 *~*~*

 TO GROUP ‘The Ghost Fan Club (Jon fuck off)’ 

8:46pm - Bran: did you guys see how fucking fast she dropped her phone when she realised he woke up? That was iconic 

8:47pm - Ygritte: kinda romantic

8:48pm - Robb: ygritte? In this chat? 

8:49pm - Ygritte: this is jon typing 

8:50pm - Sansa: now that I believe 

8:51pm - Jon: Ygritte is in another country, you guys know this! 

8:52pm - Rickon: jon stop lying, we know you have ygritte’s phone! 

8:53pm - Jon: i hate you guys 

 *~*~*

 Out of all the things about being shot Gendry hated, it was mostly having to stay in his fucking bed. The hospital was small and made him feel like he was going to kick at the end and break the goddamn bed was sleeping in. The food sucked too but it was a hospital so he didn’t complain as much. 

What he did like, though, was the fact that Arya kissed him more than she ever had before. It was him that usually had to steal kisses when she wasn’t looking. Now, it was Arya that just interrupted him mid sentence to just kiss him. He didn’t know how much he worried her, but it must have hurt her. He hated that he had done it again, without even meaning to. He understood his role as a bodyguard, and it was always to put himself in between danger and his protectee. 

When he was home, he liked it a hell of a lot more than the hospital room. He liked the simplicity of his home, even if he had to keep packing for his new place. When Pod could, he came by and helped Gendry pack, but they weren’t exactly the most efficient pair around each other. 

Then, he got an unusual call. Gendry wasn’t sure what to make of it. He still had a ways to go for recovery, but the palace had called and asked for him to come in, he didn’t know what to make of it. They gave vague instructions, so he followed them the next day. 

With a tight breath, he walked into the palace. He felt like he wasn’t walking straight, and constantly felt the need to hold his side as though it were going to burst open a stitch or something. When he saw the stairs, true fear set in, because there was a very likely chance he’d pop something on the ascent. 

“Gendry!” A voice yelled, echoing around the foyer. Without even a second to think or brace himself, Arya had collided with him, arms around his neck and hanging onto him for dear life.  The pair struggled to stay on their feet, but Gendry didn’t care when he could hear the playful giggles of his girlfriend. For a moment, he was glad he could hold her amidst the pain, he just wanted to be bound to her from that day on. 

As she fell from his embrace, he held onto his side and she hissed as though she recognised her mistake once out his grip. Then, with her hand on his cheek, he felt like a weightless fool, bending down to her, their foreheads pressing to one another. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?” she asked with hope in her breath. It wasn’t like she saw him every day without fail, but she asked every day. 

“I’m doing fine. A little fragile but I expected that,” he explained, smiling to here. As she parted from him, she looked him over as though seeing him standing there was particularly an amazing feat. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her smile spreading wider. 

He gave a shrug - or something he should have called a shrug if one of his shoulders wasn’t as lame as it currently was. “Robb asked me to stop by.” 

It was like this family was tuned into the front door opening, because the next thing Gendry saw was Robb rushing down the stairs as casually as someone could rush down stairs. Maybe the family was unused to visitors that anyone coming inside was a treat. Or someone could have told them in some way. Gendry never told Arya about people stopping by, but he was usually told. Maybe it was through those channels. 

“Gendry! Gods, it’s good to see you.” Robb smiled before he embraced Gendry. It was a tender thing, as though he knew he couldn’t hold Gendry as tightly as someone who had saved his life should have been embraced. But Gendry didn’t mind. He loved the Starks, and although he wasn’t terribly big on affection - he didn’t mind it with them.

“You’re only saying that cause I didn’t die.” Gendry gauged Robb’s reaction, realising he wasn’t only speaking to Arya. To his surprise, Robb chuckled, slapping Gendry’s shoulder.  

“Saved my life, man. I can’t thank you enough,” he said, and Gendry had some doubts it would be the last time. 

“What’s this all about?” 

“I wanted to explain what happened, and why you were hurt,” Robb said, his tone getting serious, hands in his pockets as he explained. 

“Alright,” Gendry nodded, turning to Arya, taking her hand, kissing at her knuckles. “I’ll see you later, ok?” he asked. Arya stepped up, kissing Gendry briefly. 

“Love you, don’t let him kick you around,” he smiled, allowing Arya to steal yet another kiss from his lips. 

Gendry walked up the stairs slowly beside Robb, who explained what his schedule was, and that things were going to get more chaotic than he wants it to be, but he couldn’t stop it. Gendry had always been on the outside of their schedule, and knew that it took a lot out of everyone to be someone with the utmost authority. It was often for them to be more comfortable around other royals as it was a chance to breathe. 

There were only a select few people that the royals were comfortable being informal around. Gendry was luck to be one of them, with the entire family it seemed. Especially in such a short time. Their security and palace staff were an exception, but they were considered as much part of the Stark household as any other. 

 Once inside Robb’s office, Gendry took a seat, and groaned once his body had relaxed into it. He wasn’t sure how long the pain would last, but it didn’t seem to be giving up any time soon. As he got comfortable, Robb sat down next to Gendry instead of across from him like he anticipated. 

“So,” Robb started, giving himself a moment before he continued, as though the words were there, but somehow hard to find. “I can’t even begin to describe how thankful I am. I’m not sure to saying thank you to people who save my life,” he said, and Gendry shook his head, reaching over and gripping Robb’s shoulder. 

“It must be a very foreign feeling, I’m sure,” he said. 

“Dude, I wish you’d drop the formal shit for a second,” Robb scoffed. 

“Ok,” Gendry laughed, before he took his own breath - finding words that were there but somehow not. Instead, he played it off as best he could. “Robb, I don’t want me taking a bullet for you to be some sort of sign that I might like or even...respect you.” 

“Fuck you,” Robb blurted before he cracked into a giant smile. “I’m serious though, you risked your life for me and I can’t thank you enough for it,” he said.

“Just doing my job.” 

Then, as much as they had been messing around, it seemed like Robb realised his place. He stood and walked around the desk. “The guy we got talked almost instantly. We found out he was from a fringe group known as the faceless men. They were set on dismantling the seven kingdoms. There were many attacks all on the same day. We think their main goal was to cause as much chaos as possible and divide the kingdoms, break us apart. Killing me wouldn’t have made the North crumble. I have like twelve siblings,” he said, sitting down, chuckling but still remained somewhat solemn. 

“Are you doing ok?” gendry asked. 

“Oh yeah I’m fine. Talisa slapped me for scaring her, but other than that I’m good,” he shrugged, his hand going to his mouth as his elbow met the table, as though he were thinking of something else. Gendry had his suspicions. 

“Ever since waking up, Arya has been scaring me more than a gunman does,” Gendry admitted. 

“Why? Too much?” Robb asked with a softer voice, as though Arya would walk in and hear what they were saying. 

“She just fucking clocks me every time she sees me,” Gendry said, smirk on his lips. 

“She punches you?” Robb asked with a furrowed brow. 

“No! She hugs me like her life depends on it, and I’ve got like...bullet wounds in me. I’m never going to heal at this rate,” he said, and the two laughed, shaking their head at the ridiculousness of their Arya. 

“She loves you. If she didn’t hug you like her life depends on it, you’re not worth it for her,” Robb reminded. 

“I know,” he confirmed, though he didn’t need to be reminded. 

“We’re having a big meeting with the other kingdoms. You won’t need to get to know any of them, but I’m sure some of them would like to meet you, if that’s ok?” Robb informed, and Gendry was a little taken back. He hadn’t been so included in an event like this before. He was always on the sidelines, but now Gendry was thrust into the limelight. 

“That’s fine. When is it?” Gendry played off his nerves, but he felt them , the anxiousness in his chest still there in spite of his calm appearance. 

“In a few days, we’ll make sure that everything is in order. As you won’t be staff, but a special guest, we’ll send through details,” Robb smiled, and Gendry smiled back. Standing and taking a step forward to shake Robb’s hand. 

“Thanks,” he said, and as they shook each other’s hand there was a thought popped up at the back of his mind, and he had to question it. “Uh,” he started, taking a step back and putting his hands behind his back. “Will King Robert be there?” 

“So far he’s said yes, so I suspect so,” Robb said with a nod, and went back to his work, not questioning Gendry’s enquiry. 

With a breath, Gendry left Robb’s office and wandered the halls to go back to the room where he spent most of his time. Before he even managed to get there, his spitfire of a girlfriend found him first, holding onto his arm and guiding them back to her room. He explained the situation, and then the wandering thought that greeting people would work a hell of a lot better if he had any idea of who all the royals were. 

In Arya’s room, lying on her bed and his head in her lap, he tried to rattle off all the people he knew from memory. It wasn’t great, but he was trying. “So, Dany, Drogo, Lannisters, Robert,” Gendry stopped once the memory of the one family he knew was gone, the thought pressing to his temple but lost so quickly. “Ah fuck, who else will be there?” he cursed. Arya’s fingers were in his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Do you want me to quiz you?” she said with a little laugh in her voice. 

Looking up at her, watching as she smiled so tenderly, he wanted to remain angry at his inability to remember anything, but just told her his frustrations. “Look, I didn’t even know the royals I was coming to work for, Arry, how am I meant to know other fucking kingdoms?” 

“Ok, so we’ll start with the easy ones. Daenerys Targaryen, queen of the crownlands. Tywin Lannister rules over The Westerlands,” 

“You’re already going too fast,” Gendry huffed, covering his face. 

“I heard something about a quiz!” A voice beamed, followed by the flare of red hair that came barrelling into the room and onto Arya’s bed. 

“Why did you invite her?” Gendry groaned, just as Sansa moved over him, face wide with a devilish smile. 

“I invited everyone,” Arya admitted, and Gendry shut his eyes. He sat up, resigned to the fate that was about to become his life. 

“Oh god, let’s just go to the dining room and roast me on a spit,” he said, taking Arya’s hand and Sansa got on the group chat, everyone eventually meeting down in the dining room. Gendry sat with Arya, the two of them studying to help him as the family gathered. In the end, every member of the family was there, chairs all set up against the wall like a true audience, where Gendry was put on display as Bran sat in his chair, wheeling himself around as he went through flashcards with Arya occasionally to see if Gendry would be able to answer everything. 

When everything was set up, Gendry was forced to sit in his chair in front of the family as Bran came over, and for the first time since getting in the dining room, he noticed what Bran was wearing. It immediately made Gendry roll his eyes. Of course this fucking family…

In a bright purple blazer that was shimmering when it caught the light, it was just as overtop as Gendry should have expected from Bran. Well, from the Starks in general. 

“Ok! Welcome to the Stark Royal Quiz night! Our contestant for this evening is Gendry Waters, a known royal idiot that can’t pick out a Stark from a Tully!” he announced, sending the family into a round of giggles. Gendry rolled his eyes. 

“I hate this, I really fucking hate this,” he groaned, covering his eyes. 

“Come on Gendry! You’ve got this!” Talisa yelled. Gendry cracked a smile, shaking his head. 

“Take your top off!” Rickon yelled. 

“Stop objectifying my boyfriend,” Arya spat back. 

“Please this is a family show,” Catelyn said, and the room erupted. 

“Wish you’d told me that a year ago,” Ygritte said, drinking her beer as she winked over to Gendry. He frowned as Jon spat out a laugh, one that he hadn’t realised was going to come out. His fiancee was certainly a funny one. But Gendry had learnt that very quickly. Ygritte wasn’t afraid to be herself, even when it came to the royals around her. 

“Now, Gendry, please tell us more about yourself,” Bran said, offering his hand over like he had a microphone. 

“Are you serious right now?!” 

“Tell us! Tell us!” The family - save the two parents amongst the group - roared back at him. 

“You guys need to get a life,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning into Bran’s hand. “I’m Gendry Waters and I hate this,” he said. 

“Good enough!” Bran said quickly, turning away and pandering back to his family. “What category will we start with?” 

“Why are there categories now?” Gendry shouted, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Because fuck you that’s why!” he said, “So! Family, name, lands, or other!” 

“Please just ask me questions, this is going to kill me,” Gendry said, throwing his head back. 

“Ok, fine, have it your way,” Bran said, an obvious huff of irritation in his voice. “Even with the seven kingdoms, there are some that are not connected to the mainland,” Bran started, and Gendry frowned. 

“Isn’t there only one? Essos?” he replied. 

There was a long pause, the family all huddled together as though they were judging Gendry’s answer. Then, they all turned to Bran. “You are correct! It was a trick question. Bonus points for the ruler of that kingdom,” he said, waiting for Gendry to answer. 

“Dothraki. Specifically Khal Drogo,” Gendry finished. 

“Off to a great start!” Bran said. 

After that, it was entertainment for the rest of the family, who drank and laughed and roared in approval at all of Gendry’s answers, even when they were wrong. Gendry got into it as much as the rest of them, the answers feeling like second nature, but he still got frustrated when the answer was wrong. 

“No, I swear to fuck it’s the Martells!” Gendry challenged in a shout. 

“No, Dothraki! Next question,” Bran played off. 

“Oh come the fuck on!” Gendry huffed, sitting back in his chair with his arms folded. 

“It’s ok, Martell’s would be honoured you thought so highly of them!” Talisa joked, much to the family's surprise. Robb leaned over to his wife, kissing at her cheek. For a moment, so singular and special, Gendry wondered if that would be him one day - happily married to the woman that he loved. 

Bran came shooting in with another question. “Which family….has some relation to the Stark family?” There was a pause in the room, waiting for him to answer. 

“Uh fuck, ok, I know this,” Gendry said, holding up his hand, trying to think. 

“You have ten seconds,” Bran said quickly, which shot Gendry’s attention back to him. 

“No I don’t, there isn’t a time on this thing,” he reminded, as they hadn’t been playing with any sort of time limit throughout the other questions asked that evening. 

“Five seconds,” Bran said again. 

“Tully! Tully! It’s the Tully family!” Gendry shouted, purely out of gut instinct.

“That is…” Bran teased, “correct! The matriarch of the Stark family, Catelyn Stark, was once known as Catelyn Tully. Please take a bow,” Bran said, and much to the amazement of the room, Catelyn stood, doing her best bow and settling back into her chair. “Now, who will be attending on behalf of the Tully family on Sunday night?” 

“Jon Arryn?” Gendry said, unsure. The Riverlands were a strange area, as they were once run by the Tully’s before it was passed to another family through a strange number of circumstances.

“Yes!” Bran said, before he grimaced. “Who will unfortunately bring our cousin Robin, but that’s a different day,” Bran said, to which all of the siblings laughed. 

“Bran,” she warned, “at least it isn’t Edmure,” Catelyn remarked. Edmure often tried to be more than just a king, which led him to be an absent king and give his title to Jon Arryn. 

“Ha! God, I hate that bastard,” Ned chuckled to himself. 

“I get to make fun of my brother, you don’t,” she warned her husband with a jab in the ribs. 

Bran then wheeled around the front of the crowd of his family quickly, doing a little stunt to draw everyone’s attention to him. 

“Ok! Lightning round! Man all the people coming on sunday and the Kingdoms they preside over!” He shot out his question and Gendry knew he had to answer fast. He sat up straight, gripping hard to his knees. 

“Tywin Lannister, Westerlands. Daenerys Targaryn, Crownlands. Khal Drogo, Essos. Jon Arryn, Riverlands,” he started, stopping himself as he thought. “Ok gimme a second!” he shouted as the family began to laugh and get more into the quiz. “Oberyn Martell, Dorne? You guys, so Ned Stark, The North. Robert Baratheon, Stormlands.” He finished, making sure he listed everyone by counting it down on his hand. It felt right, but he waited before Bran shouted out. 

“Yes!” 

“Wow, he got that quicker than Jon,” Sansa laughed, sipping at her gin, the one that she had been consistently drinking over the course of the night. 

“One family event, I just want one family event where I’m not emotionally traumatised,” Jon shouted as everyone started to pack up for the night. As soon as the family started to move, it gave Gendry a chance to breathe, and Arya moved to him, taking him by the hand and linking their fingers together. 

“Oh darlin, that’s never going to happen,” Ygritte said. 

“Your future wife fits right in,” Robb said. 

“Also! Why haven’t you guys told everyone!” Ygritte said quickly, jumping over to Talisa and Robb.

“Gendry was shot! Arya wasn’t exactly with it, you know?” he confessed. Gendry and Arya looked at each other. 

“What news?” Arya asked. She held tight to his hand, but he was about to have his suspicions confirmed. 

“Robb and Talisa are -” 

“No way!” Sansa shouted, covering her mouth and jumping over to her brother and his wife. 

“You guys aren’t!” Arya said next. 

“We’re expecting!” Talisa said with an excited giggle. It felt heartening that Gendry was included in such an announcement with the family. 

“Holy fuck I’m gonna be the cool uncle!” Bran shouted. 

“Why can’t you be the disable uncle and I’m the cool uncle?” Rickon said, to which Bran shot him a look. “Yeah that’s fair,” he said, and everyone chuckled at the resignation of him. As the family congratulated the couple, Gendry and Arya walked down the stairs slowly, finding their way to the staff entrance, and sneaking away from the family. 

Gendry pulled away, ready to go to his car, when Arya tugged hard on his hand. “Hey,” she said, stopping him and pulling him back to her. 

“I should get home,” he reminded Arya. She sighed, resting her chin on his chest and looking up towards him. 

“I love you,” she confessed, as though it were the first time. Gendry smiled, leaning down to her, stealing a kiss from her lips.

“I love you too,” he replied, kissing her once more. 

“Thank you for dealing with my family tonight,” she replied, letting them sway back and forth. Ever since he was shot, Arya was far more open about her feelings, he found. She said everything she needed to - and although they were doing so before, Arya wasn’t afraid to confess that she was desperately in love with him. He felt the same all the time. 

“I love your family. Even though they embarrass me,” he shrugged. Arya laughed, cupping his cheek. 

“That’s what family is for,” she reminded. 

“Feels like home,” Gendry confessed, feeling far too open for a moment. He wanted to tell Arya...say more than he had, but it was hard. How was he meant to say what he needed to when it meant revealing far too much of what he saw. 

“Feels more like home when you’re there,” Arya said, a flash of red running over her cheeks. He wondered if they wanted the same things, or if he was fooling himself. He didn’t wish to get scared of their future, just hopeful of where it would lead. Fear could wait for another day, he reasoned. 

“I should go,” he reminded, kissing her one last time, hands slipping from hers. “I love you. Sleep well,” he told her. 

“I will,” she said, hands going behind her back as he walked away, constantly looking over his shoulder at her, “call if something happens,” she shouted. 

“You’ll be my first call, I promise,” he yelled back in return. 

 ***

 The day came, and Gendry was wearing his best suit. Well, it was new purely because Jon and Robb took him out to get one that was suitable for a royal gathering. Gendry wanted to remind them that Khal Drogo would be there, and his attire wasn’t anything like the royal prince’s, but it would be a fruitless venture. 

He fiddled with his tie as he met with Jon Arryn and Oberyn Martell. They all took photos and thanked him for his service to the crown. They also regarded his bravery, and said his service didn’t go unrecognised, even throughout other kingdoms. Before he was to meet with the Lannisters, Arya came over to him. She was wearing a nice navy suit and a white wilk blouse underneath. She was a fashionable princess thanks much to Sansa for this particular event. 

“Stop fucking with your tie! It’s going to look different in all the pictures,” Arya warned him, straightening out his tie for the fourth time that day. He huffed, before she had to leave and go towards her family for some pictures with the Martells. 

Gendry was sure he’d be seeing the Lannisters next, he was certain of it. Yet, when it came down to it, Gendry felt his heart in his throat when he saw King Robert next. He was stern, almost menacing as he came closer to him. Gendry stood up straighter, trying to be as presentable as possibly. It scared the shit out of him. Then, Robert stopped in front of him. 

“Your majesty,” Gendry greeted, bowing to the king. 

Robert smiled as they came face to face, then, he clapped Gendry on the shoulder. “Good work son, it was very brave of you for doing what you did,” he said, clearing his throat, as though he recognised Gendry for a moment but couldn’t place him. 

“Thank you,” Gendry replied. The two stared at one another before Robert moved, turning on his heels and shouting as he saw Ned. Gendry met the Lannisters briefly before a familiar head of white hair came running through.

“Gendry!” Daenerys yelled, embracing Gendry and he held her back just as tightly. Their meeting was short the first time, but they left perfect impressions on the other. “I heard and instantly wanted to run, but I have a country to run and -” 

“Bull!” Khal Drogo yelled, making everyone in the room jump. 

“Drogo. You know he hasn’t met you before, stop scaring him,” Dany warned, swatting at his stomach lightly. 

“Arya just talked about him and I know he’s big bullheaded idiot!” 

“Thank you, Khal,” Gendry said back, offering to shake his hand. Drogo bat it away as he embraced Gendry off of his feet then back down again as he spoke. 

“Drogo! You are a warrior through and through, my people would be proud of you,” he said, batting at Gendry’s chest, which cause the impact spot as much pain as when he was shot. Gendry groaned as he clutched his chest, and Drogo laughed, hooking his arm around Gendry’s shoulder. 

For the remainder of the day, it was formal proceedings that they had organised to discuss what they would choose to implement change amongst the seven kingdoms to make them more united and less divided as they once were. 

As Gendry stood to the side with Arya and the rest of the family as Robb took point with Ned, she leaned over to him. “So,” she whispered, “King Robert talked to you?” 

“I’m glad Dany came over,” Gendry whispered back. 

“Are you alright?” 

Gendry shrugged, “I’ll be fine. As long as I don’t interact with him for long, I’ll be ok,” he said, and Arya tugged on the back of his jacket. It was the only form of affection they could give each other as Gendry reached behind his back, touching at her fingertips as lightly as he could. Her hand slipped down to his, touching their hands against each other for the briefest of moments before it was gone.

The night wound down easily, the family gathering ending as each royal had to travel back to their homeland, Arya and gendry walked to her room, weaving their way through the castle to kill the time. Gendry suspected they’d be visited by Sansa or the two youngest boys at one stage, but he didn’t mind - it wasn’t like they were planning on doing anything exciting once they got to her room. At the bottom of the stairs, ready to climb for the fourth time, they were met by a figure at the top of the staircase. 

“Gendry, may I speak with you?” Catelyn asked, her head tilting towards her office. Gendry gave a nod back to her.

“Of course,” he said, looking to Arya with a smile. “I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t take too long,” she said. “Oh! Mum, can Gendry stay the night?” Arya asked, and as Gendry looked at the Queen, he went stiff, his entire body feeling trapped in one embarrassing moment. She glanced between the pair before she rolled her eyes. 

“Yes. But as I know you’re injured, I don’t expect anything to happen,” Catelyn remarked, “am I right, Mister Waters?” she asked, with a glare that could kill a person on sight if they weren’t prepared. Seven hells, Gendry almost died and he was prepared for the scolding she was ready to unleash.

“Yes, your majesty,” he said, clearing his throat. 

“Stop scaring him and go,” Arya warned as Gendry followed the queen. 

As they made it to her office, it was a complete surprise when the door closed. In a moment, Gendry was held so tightly, it was like the air had been sucked from his lungs. The queen held him tight, and the echo of a sob came out that made him look down.

“Oh!” he gasped, “Your majesty,” he said softly, stroking her arm to comfort her. She backed away, clearing her face of tears that stained her cheeks. He held her by the shoulders, making sure she was ok as he inspected her. 

“You almost gave your life for my son, and I cannot express how thankful I am for you,” she said with another sob leaving her chest. She covered her mouth and for a moment, it tore him in two; a subject of a royal, or the need to comfort like only a son could comfort his mother. The latter took over, as he brought her back into his chest and held her for a brief hug, keeping her small cries silenced by his chest. 

“It was all part of the job, your majesty,” he remarked. Staying put for a moment, she left his embrace, wiping her face clean once more and composing herself. 

“I understand,” she remarked with a sniff, “but please, and I know you’ve been trying not to, but don’t break that girl’s heart again. It was brutal enough the first time around,” she warned, and Gendry agreed with her. 

“It was never the intention, your majesty,” he said, taking a bow, heart in his throat at how natural everything seemed to be falling into place. Then, a knock came to the door, and in walked the king with a cup of tea for the queen. “Oh, good, you majesty is here too. May I please speak with you both?” Gendry started, the two listening to him throughout their entire conversation, leaving it on good terms. 

Gendry walked to Arya’s room, finding her in her bed, her arms folded an a deep scowl on her face. 

“I thought you would have been asleep. I was talking with your mum for a while,” Gendry said, loosening his tie and kick off his shoes. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Arya said, and Gendry stopped. He cautiously took off his jacket, undoing his belt and trying hard to strip down to his underwear as possibly without aggravating Arya. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, trying to kick off his pants, seeing if her reaction changed. 

“No! I just wanna talk,” she reasoned, letting her body loose, obviously realising her mistake of posture. 

“Ok,” he said, finding her spare set of boxers and loose singlet he could wear in her bed. After he was dressed, he snuck into bed beside Arya, holding onto her hand as she seemed to come up with the courage to say what she wanted. 

“I’m not going to ask you to stop,” she said, and Gendry took in a breath, as he realised what conversation he was having. “I know you like your work and it’s what brought us together.”

“But…”

“I just want you to be more careful. Put Robb in front of the bullet next time,” she said, and Gendry chuckled. 

“Arry,” he smiled. 

“Yeah I know, it’s treason,” she said, pouting. 

“I love you.” He leaned over to her, catching her chin in between his thumb and finger, kissing her quickly.  “I’ll be more careful, I promise.” 

“I know you will. You can’t stop danger all the time. Just...try not to get shot,” she asked weakly, looking at him with caution. 

“Trust me, I never want to get shot again,” he laughed and Arya hit his arm for being an idiot. “Can we go to bed now?” 

“Yes,” she said, and Gendry lept at his chance to curl her into his embrace, holding her tightly and kissing behind her ear. He just wanted her to know he held her as tenderly as she deserved. 

 *~*~*

 When Sansa arrived in Arya’s room that morning, ready to finally tell her sister who she was dating, she wasn’t quite expecting to see what she did. In the bed slept Arya and Gendry wrapped in sheets and each other’s embrace. 

Sansa’s news could wait, because for the first time, she had seen Arya fully and perfectly protected. 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

November 9, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

I had hoped that the days when the news came like a firehose were over, but so far, no luck.

This morning, the stock market jumped 1200 points in its first day of trading after the announcement of Biden’s election. Over the course of the day it was up as much as 1600 points, then ended for the day with the Dow Jones Industrial Average up 834.57 points, or 2.95%.

The strong market is at least in part because pharmaceutical company Pfizer and the German drug company BioNTech announced today they have a coronavirus vaccine which appears to be about 90% effective. The Trump administration immediately tried to take credit for the vaccine, only to have Pfizer note that it has not taken federal money under Trump’s Operation Warp Speed for rushing a coronavirus vaccine. Don Jr. promptly suggested that the delay in announcing the potential vaccine until this week was designed to hurt Trump’s reelection, but it seems Pfizer is likely distancing itself from Trump to avoid any suggestion that the vaccine is about politics, rather than science. In the past, the administration has touted a number of treatments for Covid-19 that have turned out to be ineffective, and the pressure for a vaccine before the election threatened to weaken public faith in one.

The pandemic continues to worsen across the country. Today we learned that Ben Carson, the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, has tested positive for the virus; so has David Bossie, the Trump adviser in charge of the campaign’s legal challenges to the election loss. Both men were at the election night watch party at the White House, along with White House chief of staff Mark Meadows, who was infected at the time and did not wear a mask. Aides told PBS NewsHour reporter Yamiche Alcindor that they were worried the event would be a superspreader, but felt pressured to attend.

President-Elect Joe Biden started his presidential transition today, beginning by announcing the makeup of his coronavirus task force. It’s an impressive group of doctors and scientists, including Dr. Rick Bright, a whistleblower fired by Trump officials. “Please, I implore you, wear a mask," Biden told Americans. "A mask is not a political statement…. The goal is to get back to normal as fast as possible.”

New leadership and the rising infection rates are shifting the conversation. Last night, Utah’s Republican Governor Gary Herbert announced a state of emergency. He has imposed a statewide mask mandate indefinitely and a ban on social gatherings outside of households for the next two weeks. He has limited extracurricular activities at schools. Businesses that don’t follow the mask mandate can be fined; organizers who ignore the social gathering rule can be prosecuted and fined up to $10,000.

Not everyone likes the idea of new leadership, though. In an unprecedented move, Trump is refusing to acknowledge that he has lost the election. He has launched lawsuits challenging the ballot counting in a number of states, and his surrogates—including White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany—are accusing the Democrats of cheating. Tonight, Attorney General William Barr legitimized the idea of voter fraud by permitting federal prosecutors to investigate such allegations. Barr’s move prompted the head of the Election Crimes Branch of the Department of Justice, Richard Pilger, to resign.

But what’s so weird about this is that they are losing all these lawsuits. Indeed, some of them they’re not even trying to win: they’re not bothering to fill out the correct paperwork. It seems clear that they are simply stoking the narrative of an unfair election, but it is not at all clear to me to what end.

It is certainly possible that Trump and his people are launching a coup, as observers warn. And yet, this would not be an easy task. Biden’s win is not a few votes here or there; it is commanding, and Trump’s aides are telling reporters they think the game is played out. The military has already said it wants no part of getting involved in the election, and the courts so far are siding against the administration entirely. Even key Republican leaders, such as Georgia’s Republican lieutenant governor, are denying there has been any problem with the vote.

Maybe what’s at stake is that last Tuesday’s election left control of the Senate hanging on two runoff elections in Georgia. Today the Republican candidates in those races tagged on to the cries of voter fraud to call for Georgia’s Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger to resign. Raffensberger is the top elections official in the state. He is a Republican. There is no evidence of any irregularity in the 2020 Georgia election, and the two senators did not offer any. But if they can get Democratic votes thrown out, Senators David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler might avoid the runoffs that look like they might well result in Democratic victories.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell is determined to keep control of the Senate, and ginning up a conviction that the election was rigged could do that. McConnell defended Trump’s challenging of the election today, although he did not explicitly say he believed the election had been fraudulent. Trump’s attacks are working: new polling shows that 7 out of 10 Republican voters now think that the 2020 election was illegitimate. Barr met with McConnell before he signed onto the idea of voter fraud by announcing that federal prosecutors could go after it.

Still, while control of the Senate is likely driving McConnell, it seems highly unlikely that Trump cares about it. Perhaps the president is simply deep in a narcissistic rage, unable to face the idea of losing.

But there is something else niggling at me.

Trump’s refusal to acknowledge Biden’s win means that the current administration is denying him the right to see the President’s Daily Briefing (the PDB) which explains the biggest security threats facing the country and the latest intelligence information. Trump can keep Biden from seeing other classified information, too.

Today, Trump fired Defense Secretary Mark Esper (by announcing the firing on Twitter), and replaced him with a loyalist, Christopher C. Miller, who will be “acting” only. Trump also selected a loyalist and Republican political operative, Michael Ellis, to become the general counsel at the National Security Agency, our top spy agency, over the wishes of intelligence officials. Ellis was the chief counsel to Representative Devin Nunes (R-CA), a staunch Trump loyalist. Trump is also reportedly considering firing FBI director Christopher Wray and CIA director Gina Haspel. Last week, he quietly fired the leaders of the agencies that oversee our nuclear weapons, international aid, and electricity and natural gas regulation, although the last of those officials was moved to a different spot in the administration.

In other words, Trump is cleaning out the few national security leaders who were not complete lackeys and replacing them with people who are. It’s funny timing for such a shake-up, especially one that will destabilize the country, making us more vulnerable.

Today Washington Post diplomacy and national security reporter John Hudson noted that a source told him that the “Trump administration just gave Congress formal notification for a massive arms transfer to the United Arab Emirates: 50 F-35s, 18 MQ-9 Reapers with munitions; a $10 billion munitions package including thousands of Mk 82 dumb bombs, guided bombs, missiles & more….” This deal comes two months after the administration’s Abraham Accord normalizing relations between Israel and the UAE opened the way for arms sales.

The UAE has wanted the F-35 for years; it is the world’s most advanced fighter jet. They cost about $100 million apiece. The president’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, has secretly been pushing for the sale of the arms to the UAE in the face of fierce opposition by government agencies and lawmakers.

The administration had announced a much smaller version of this deal at the end of October, in a sale that would amount to about $10 billion, but Congress worried about the weaponry falling into the hands of China or Russia and seemed unlikely to let the sale happen. In 2019, it stopped such a deal. Trump declared a national emergency in order to go around Congress and sell more than $8 billion of weapons to the UAE, Saudi Arabia and Jordan. He later fired Steven Linick, the State Department’s inspector general looking into those sales, but when the IG’s report came out nonetheless, it was scathing, suggesting that they put the U.S. at risk of being prosecuted for war crimes.

When you remember that Trump’s strong suit has always been distraction, and that he has always used the presidency as a money-making venture, I wonder if we need to factor those characteristics in when we think about his unprecedented and dangerous refusal to admit he has lost this election.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

Heather Cox Richardson

[allaboutmywriting]

Walking the Gallery

can’t afford to go to Harry’s tour lol nothing new so writing this instead--gonna be some chapters, not sure how many yet || 5k words 

Lexy Marks is a recent novelist, who has risen to a reasonable amount of fame for a first-time fiction writer. She ends up at an album release party Harry Styles has thrown, where he tells her how much he loves her writing. Back in the day, Lexy was a 1D stan; unfortunately, she has some trauma related to that particular era of her life. 

CHAPTER ONE:

The check engine light came on as soon as could at least see the stoplights hanging from the intersection behind the row of cars in front of her—whoever had warned her about LA traffic certainly hadn't been joking—and Lexy screamed in frustration when she saw it. With her foot on the brake, she slammed her hands against the steering wheel, in the same manner that she was privy to throwing her phone on the ground whenever it froze. It was a method that never solved the problem, but always made her feel as if it did.

Her father had assured her, incorrectly it would appear, that her 2007 Toyota Corolla would be fine for the six-thousand-mile trip she was taking around the country—from Columbia to Los Angeles, Los Angeles back to Charleston. She'd already completed half of the journey there, but she couldn't exactly complete the other half back with a faulty engine.

The car behind her beeped its horn and Lexy jumped, pressing her foot too fast on the gas, jolting forward uncomfortably. She hadn't expected the traffic to be quite so bad, and she wasn't prepared for the traffic gridlock. She sighed and looked at the clock. 5:57.

She was meant to be there by 6:00. She didn't really know what the where was, somewhere in between Beverly Hills and a direction of Hollywood. She supposed she could've been smarter by not driving in rush hour traffic. Perhaps she could've asked the event holders if she could have arrived in the morning. Surely, they'd have understood that people hailing from the East Coast were not as smooth, talented, or put together as those on the Golden Coast.

The car in front of her moved up a foot. She turned the radio down and scrolled until she found her dad's contact. It was after eight on the East Coast, so he would be home from work. Probably in the kitchen making himself a sandwich with the unhealthy kind of bread and too much mayonnaise—he liked to play around with cholesterol.

"Lexy-loo!" he greeted. She smiled, already feeling at ease from hearing his booming voice. He was a middle school science teacher, the goofy kind, so he said everything with strange inflections and accents. This time, he sounded Irish. "Where the hell are ya?"

"Stuck in traffic." She glanced at the GPS he'd installed for her eighteenth birthday a few years before. It was the nicest part of her car, and it looked awfully out of place compared to the rest of it. She was somewhere in East Hollywood, which contrary to the name, was a little more rundown than she expected it to be. "This has to be even worse than New York."

He laughed, having spent his summers growing up in Brooklyn, back when the twin towers were still a part of the skyline. "You hanging with the rich and famous yet?"

Lexy glared down at her lap, pushing the gas gently as the next car moved forward. She didn't have the time to explain the intricacies of the area to her dad, to let him know that there were entirely more poor people in the area than celebrities, and that she would probably never even come in contact with someone of such a demographic. In fact, after the event or reading or whatever she had tonight, Lexy had half a mind to go handing out food to all of the people she saw on the sides of the street.

"Not yet, Dad." Her calf was starting to ache from staying on the brake for so long, and she tried to stretch it in place the best she could. "Anyway, check engine light just came on and I don't know what to do."

"Huh," he grunted. "Well, is it steady or is it blinking?"

"Steady."

"Did it just come on?"

"About a minute ago." She shuffled her seatbelt around to keep it from digging into her neck.

"Is your car acting up? jerky?"

"No. it seems normal. I can't really tell, though. Traffics at a standstill."

"Well, it's probably not an emergency then. Go find yourself an Auto Zone and they'll do a diagnostic for free. Call me back once they tell you and we'll figure something out."

She frowned at probably not an emergency, her mind speculating as it was prone to, visions of her car exploding in the middle of the LA freeway.

"I don't think I can do it today," Lexy frowned. "I have an event in three minutes."

"Glad to see that the extra three hours has increased your timeliness," he joked and Lexy rolled her eyes. "Just do it first thing tomorrow," he said nonchalantly, yawning. "I'm so proud of you, Lex. Living out your dream. I wish I could be there with you."

She wanted to roll down her window, to lay her arm across it the same way she might have back home, but she took the threats of pollution seriously.

She said a goodbye to her father quickly. Her eyes were already stinging. Lexy was so far from home and so alone. It had just been her and her dad for so long, even while she was busy in college, but he couldn't leave the school for the weeks the tour had taken her, would take her, for fear that the district would fire him. Ain't no rest for a public-school teacher, that's for sure.

Lexy had managed to do thirty-seven different readings without him. Had managed to impress thirty-seven different crowds of people without offending them—had even managed to make a few of them cry. Her twitter and Instagram followers had increased gradually, so that now she had a small following of few thousand, that rivalled the accounts of her high school valedictorian who'd gone on to become an influencer selling tanning lotion.

While Lexy really was living out her dream, having a New York Times bestseller at twenty-two, becoming an author wasn't as glamorous as she always thought it would. Her settlement for the book, which was supposed to be $55,000, after taxes only came out to a little more than half of that, and now she understood why authors talked about how difficult it was to make a living just writing. There were no health benefits in authorhood, and there were no extravagances where bookstores paid her to come talk. Here she was, six months out of college, driving herself around in her own car just for her inaugural book tour.

Who cared if Barack Obama had put her book on his recommended reads of the year, when her car was going to break down and she was going to be late for her first event in Los Angeles?

As the clock shown 6:04, Lexy finally was able to pass through the intersections. Now, if she could just figure out how to change lanes, she'd be doing okay.

&&

Her car started smoking as she turned onto the street. It was framed by huge houses with gates in front—black ones, silver ones, some with outright walls so that you couldn't see what was happening on the other side. About halfway down the street, and with the smoke darkening, her GPS said she arrived.

Just what was this event? Her fingers were itching for her phone, to call her publicist and make sure she was at the right place, but a security guard appeared just by her driver's side window.

He was a big and buff bald-headed man who gave her car a dirty look as he instructed her to roll down a window. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Statement of purpose?"

Statement of what?

It was really starting to feel like she imagined the White House felt like after all—back in the Obama days, not the current ones.

"Hi. My name is Lexy Marks. I've been told to be here."

"ID?"

She grumbled to herself as she reached forward and went through her purse, her fingers shaking as she took at her wallet, and then her driver's license. Her fingers were shaking, but she didn't know why she should be the nervous one.

He cross-checked her license with whatever was on the tablet he was holding, then nodded at her. "Pull around back. You should see the other cars. Park between the two on the back row."

Lexy took back her license, rolled up her window, and waited at the gates until the swung open. Her car continued to smoke so bad that she could see it even through the darkening tones of dusk. The house, which she gawked up at, was black and modern, with gaping windows. There were three stories from what she could tell—Lexy had never seen such a nice place, much less been invited to one.

She tried to park in between the cars the guard had instructed her to—a white Audi and one of several black rovers. These cars were all worth more than her manuscript was, and especially more than she was.

And Lexy had always been awful at parking. Never mind how awful she felt about being late, and how dreadful her stomach felt with her engine smoking.

She couldn't tell just how dark it really was outside due to the multiple lanterns and light fixtures that illuminated the entire outdoor parking space. She was most certainly late, but she wasn't even sure what this event was. She didn't know if they would even notice, if this was an event with other authors, if she was meant to be giving just a reading. Her publicist—Simon & Schuster had given her one along with her royalties' contract—had set up the whole tour for her. All she had to do was arrive on time. And here she was, a half hour late, and if her GPS was right, somewhere between West Hollywood and Beverley Hills.

But weren't the rich and famous known for not being on time?

As she climbed the steps to the front porch, she was certain she was at a mansion. Just whose mansion, she wasn't sure, but she was more conscious, if she ever had been before tonight, of the twenty-dollar black Old Navy dress she was wearing. She'd thought she was being frugal, chic, stylish. She'd even paired them with her favorite pair of chunky blue heels. But now she was certain it couldn't be further from than truth.

There was no one in the yard with her. Across the lane was the security guard, and Lexy contemplated waving him down and asking for directions. Suck it up, she told herself. You're living the dream.

A white cat was perched on the front step and it watched her, lazily, as she knocked twice on the front door. When there was no answer, she rang the doorbell.

There was music coming from inside, banging beats that made it seem like she was entering into a dorm. They were exactly the kind of loud that she heard in college on nights out, at house parties, or in the frats. She couldn't make it out exactly—either that or she didn't know the songs.

When she knocked a second time, the door was sprung open.

"Ay, welcome to the party of the century," A well-dressed man greeted her. He sounded Australian, but Lexy couldn't be certain—she was the worst at deciphering accents. But he was dressed in suspenders and a white t-shirt that read SOUTHERNE in black, bold letters. Behind him, Lexy could see a bunch of people standing around, talking. None of them were dancing, as she had incorrectly assumed from the music, but instead, standing around listening to the tracks.

And now Lexy was certain she had never heard it before.

"Hello? You there?" The man asked again. This time he grinned at her and revealed a set of teeth so perfect they were probably veneers. If Lexy had to choose a new occupation, it would be dentistry. But she was awful at science, math, and everything in between that would lead her to becoming one.

"Sorry." She tried to smile back, but her annoyance ran strong through her veins.

A few of the people around them, beautiful people, women with the sort of hair that didn't have flyaways and men that looked like they came from the cover of GQ turned to look at her curiously, but the company must've been important, because they looked away again.

"I'm Lexy Marks. I was told to come here by my publicist."

She cringed as she thought about how it must sound to this man—acting like her publicist was in charge of her. Much like a parent leading their child to the first day of kindergarten. It was just like her publicist to do this. She knew how unexperienced Lexy was and had been known to take advantage of it before—her first reading in the mid-west had been at a senior home for people who had never read her book.

But his smile only widened, and he opened the door up even further.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving an arm in front of him. He held a wine glass in his left hand. Dark and red, the kind she hated. "I'm Greg."

Well, she could guess that Greg was not the person she was meant to meet here. He didn’t have any idea who she was. But she stepped inside the door anyway, the music amplified, and Lexy had to stop herself from abruptly gaping at the beautiful scene before her. Beautiful hardwood floors that had been stained white, walls so beautifully decorated they looked straight out of a gallery, the people all around her who were so beautiful and dressed so well they might as well be models themselves.

It felt like something straight out of The Great Gatsby.

Greg nudged her arm. "Let's get you a drink, yeah? Have you eaten? We've got loads of stuff in the kitchen."

Lexy shook her head as he followed him through the crowd, saying hi to people as he went. She was almost positive he was Australian.

Lexy hoped she would recognize someone in the crowd, but these were not the sort of people she knew. She even tried to place the voice singing because she had most certainly heard it before but couldn't do it for the life of her. It sounded pop-y and generic, the sort she would've made out to in a club back in college.

"You're lucky I was walking right by the door," Greg continued, stepping beside her once the crowd was sparse enough to allow for it. There must be over a hundred people in the building. All of the windows were covered by long, flowing silver curtains; there was even a balcony that people hung off of. All they needed was a sprawling indoor people.

"What do you do, Lexy? Singer? Actress? Dancer? Triple threat?"

"Um, author, actually."

"Oh yeah?" he turned to grin at her. "Poetry?"

Lexy felt like she was disappointing him. "Fiction."

They entered the kitchen, after feeling like they had walked a quarter of a mile from the front door. The house hadn't actually looked this large from the outside and Lexy wondered if it was the fact that they'd had to navigate all of the people standing in the way.

And this time Lexy did look around with her mouth open. "Oh wow."

The countertops were black marble, and stretched the entire length of the room, which was probably half the size of her house back in South Carolina. The floor was still stained white wood, and the kitchen had double islands in the center, one of which was adorned with drinks—the other with sweets.

It was a kitchen so perfect she would've never been able to dream it up. Lexy couldn't cook—at all really, but if she could, this was exactly the sort of kitchen she'd want.

"Harry," Greg called, almost lazily, to a man in yellow pants and white t-shirt, who was looking out of the kitchen window. "I've brought you a guest."

He turned around to face her, and Lexy furrowed her eyebrows at the man standing there, then her eyebrows shot straight up to her forehead when she finally recognized him.

And all of a sudden, she was right back to being in ninth grade, fighting over which of her friends laid claim to the man standing before her. Hell, Lexy used to keep her toothbrush in a cup with the man's face on it.

His hair, a deep brown, not unlike her own, was wavy and perfectly placed—the definition of artist's hair. His skin was the sort of clear she only ever got when she was wearing a full face of make-up, and immediately, from the time his eyes first landed on her, he seemed to exude charisma.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"What's your name?" He smiled politely at her, without showing his teeth, and Lexy's heart dropped at the thought that she wasn't really meant to be here. Her ten minutes of existing on the estate had made her feel some sort of emotion towards the place.

But how could she be after all? Standing in Harry Styles' extravagant kitchen, in what was most likely his exorbitant mansion, at an event that was clearly some sort of Hollywood party.

She was meant to be reading.

"Uh, I'm Lexy," she stammered. "Lexy Marks."

His eyes bugged out when she said it, but he quickly recovered enough to grin at her, dimples on full show, just like the media trained mega star he was. And though he certainly looked more grown-up than Lexy remembered him as, his smile was the same as it was on her toothbrush cup from all those years ago.

He took a few steps forward and held out his hand to her, fingers covered in rings and pink and blue painted nails. She took it. "I'm Harry. I've been waiting to meet you—you're the guest of honor."

Behind her, Greg rolled his eyes. "You're the guest of honor, mate. This is your release party."

Harry grinned at Greg, then looked back down at Lexy. "I invited a lot of people."

Lexy's heart was beating so rapidly that she was certain if she tried to speak, she would be out of breath. So, she simply nodded.

"I love Beginning with February," Harry continued, naming her title. Lexy couldn't stop staring at his damn smile. It was so perfect. Her dad could never afford braces for her, and she had a thing for people's teeth. "It's my favorite book right now. After I finished it, I immediately read it again. I must've read it eight times by now. I tell everyone it's the perfect antidote to loss and loneliness—I don't think there's anyone I've ever met who explains love and friendship and death the way you do. I've bought a whole box of copies to hand out as Christmas presents. Of course, it would be better if you signed them."

Lexy stood frozen from his exclamation—still processing the fact that she was standing in front of Harry Styles and that he had read her book. More than once.

"I had my publicist reach out to yours, and I was really hoping that I could make it out to your reading tomorrow, but unfortunately I have an interview."

He smiled at her again and Lexy knew it was her time to say something. She tried to seem cool, seem the way that any of the people in the house might would respond, but her brain only backtracked far enough for his last few sentences. "Uh…I'll read you anything you want."

Lexy wanted to punch herself at how stupid she sounded, yet again, but Greg snorted, and Harry smiled, ducking his head.

"What I mean," she rushed to explain. It was his damn smile that got her. "Is that I'll give you a private reading of whatever you want. Like—"

This was just getting worse and worse as Greg began lightly laughing. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, then back to meet Harry's. He was a lot taller than she'd imagined he would be, but though his lips twitched, he was giving her his entire attention.

"Thank you for your kind words," she swallowed. "Of course, I'll sign anything you want."

Harry's smile deepened, his dimples appearing. Greg pointed to the door with his thumb, and Harry nodded at him.

He turned back to Lexy, just as the song from the other room changed. This one she'd heard before—something by Lorde, that she couldn't remember the name of.

They gazed at each other, then Harry suddenly clapped his hands together. "So, can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Water? Vodka?"

She was alone with one of the most famous singers of the time. And he was offering her a drink, in his kitchen, somewhere in Los Angeles. She wasn't just living her dream; she was living the whole dream. Everyone's. All of them. A place on Barack Obama's recommended reading list could have never prepared her for this one.

"Um, water. Please?"

He nodded, and turned around to the island, taking one a wine glass, similar to the one Greg was drinking out of, from the side and filling it with water from a pitcher.

He handed it to her, then leaned against the island and picked up his own drink, something green. He was dressed so well…Lexy had always admired fashion but could never get the hang of making anything look good other than wearing neutrals and blank shirts.

"I hope you don't mind being here," he drawled slowly, his eyes on hers, darting back and forth as if trying to determine what her true feelings were. Lexy hadn't heard him talk since the height of her One Direction days, when she would watch every interview that came out multiple times, but she wondered if he had talked quite so slowly back then. "This is my album release party, for my friends, and I was quite hoping you'd do the intermission."

All…of those people…at least a hundred…were his friends? Lexy could count all her friends on both hands. She probably only talked to three of them a day.

"Intermission?"

His eyes still on hers, he nodded. "Yeah. Do you know that bit in your book, the part where Jamaica dies? You have two pages of just wonderful prose there, and I was really hoping that you would read it. Maybe halfway through the songs?" He paused in thought, his eyes rolling up. "Actually, maybe after track seven would do."

She took a big sip of the water. It was room temperature and Lexy thought, in a moment of spare humor, probably the most expensive water she'd ever drank.

But her hand was already shaking, and she doubted that she could convince herself to read in front of everyone in that other room. Well, at least. There would be no way she could control the tremors in her voice. She was used to reading in front of people who knew her, in front of people who liked her reading, who cared about her characters as much as she did.

Not in front of talented, model millionaires.

"I'm sorry. I thought this was a reading."

"It is a reading," he insisted. He ducked his head and crossed his arms and smiled at her again. Lexy had to look down to keep from disappointing him. Those damn dimples.

She felt awful turning him down. But there was so much about the day that wasn't turning out right. Her car, her first day in Los Angeles. And here she was, about to tear up in front of this singer who had to share his work with everyone.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. It's just been a long day. I really thought this was just going to be a regular reading at a bookstore. My publicist, she never really told me, like, what this event was, or I probably would've been really prepared. But I think everyone wants to listen to you. Not me." She opened her purse and pulled out the printed-out pages she'd rendered just for her readings—she didn't know a single author who didn't at least tweak their writing somewhat before reading. "I don't even have those paragraphs with me. I only have chapter one."

Harry took the creased paper from her, frowning down at it. They had her scribbles all over it. Her first chapter had a lot of dialogue, and it was never the best for reading out loud.

But from the expression on Harry's face, you'd think that she'd just taken all of the magic out of it.

She was just about to say as much when the music changed, and her ears perked up. She frowned at the beat. "Is that—"

"Yeah," Harry said, still dejectedly frowning down at the papers. "Never get far from your roots, right?"

"That's what they say," she sighed.

Harry glanced up at quizzically but didn't ask for clarification. He handed the papers back to her. "Look, if you don't want to read, you don't have to. I'd be honored if you would, but I understand if you won't."

She nodded at him, folded the papers back in her bag, and took another sip of her water.

"Harry, love," a man called, walking into the kitchen. This man had brown hair and a long face, and a dark-haired woman at his side. Both of them were dressed—much better than she was.

Harry's face lit up and he set his glass on the counter. "Mitch! Maia! Well, you both look lovely!"

He walked over to them and Lexy took a step back, observing the way he interacted with them. The couple seemed completely at ease around him and it was obvious they'd known each other a while. Before Harry could turn to introduce her to them, Lexy had already set her water on the counter and left the room. She skirted in between the crowds of people, wondering why she'd always thought black was the classiest of colors, yet literally everyone in the room was dressed colorfully. That familiar urge to run away was strong, and she just told herself to get out of the room, and that no one would remember her.

The last chords of What Makes You Beautiful ended, and she vaguely registered the sound of something else start—an older tune, one that she was certain she'd heard before.

There was a group of people standing by the door, but she was able to open it and get out by not paying attention to the looks that they gave her.

More people were out on the porch. Did Harry really have that many friends? They were all laughing, clearly happy to be invited, and here she was running away.

She took the steps two at a time and nearly knocked herself over, sprinting to her car. She yanked open the door and got inside, slamming it back closed. She pressed the lock button, then tried to regain control of her breathing.

There were moments in life that suddenly took her over. It had been like that her entire life. When the air from her lungs would disappear and suddenly feel like there was a valve closed. And while she did have asthma when she was younger, she knew that this wasn't that. She took deep, deep breaths and tried to regain herself.

But the pain was too strong. It came quickly, the way her wrist broke in fourth grade when she fell off her bike and took over her body like it was an epidemic, consuming every organ.

She had to get out of there.

She rummaged through her bag for her keys, landing on her phone, her mirror, her makeup. For the most part, everything Lexy owned was somewhere in her car. It wasn't easy to know what you would need on a three-month trip across the country. At last she found them and jammed them into the car.

Two breaths.

She could feel the steering wheel beneath her hands.

Two breaths.

She could hear the people from the porch laughing, unseen behind the row of rovers in front of her car.

Two breaths.

She could smell the leather of her car, the sun-burnt smell it had acquired from being years old.

Two breaths.

She could see the scent ornament hanging down from her mirror, a green pine tree.

Deep down, Lexy knew why she felt like this. It had come back so suddenly now that she could breathe again—the way it felt to first hear it in the auditorium, how much it hurt, afterwards, almost in hindsight, to hear Mr. Mack, the principal, stumbling over those two words. He couldn't seem to figure out the best phrase, so he said them all. Is dead. Has passed away. Has died. Lexy stared ahead at the little ornament hanging off the mirror and tried not to think of the blue curtains in the auditorium. Or the ugly carpet that covered the floor. That little ornament was meant to smell of pumpkin, but the scent had gone away somewhere in Illinois, and if she stared at it long enough, the auditorium went away and she was alone in her Toyota.

She took another deep breath, convinced she would never again think of Harry Styles, or One Direction, or the night again once she had the opportunity to yell at Samantha—her publicist. She reached forward and turned the key.

But of course, in the spirit of the night, it wouldn't start.

Lexy laid her head upon the steering wheel.

She'd at least have to stop crying before she called her dad, lest he buy a flight and come all the way to LA to lose his job. And what use was being in a healthy state of mind if she destroyed her family’s, too? 

A/N: lmk what you think/thoughts/feelings etc etc 

[lemonietrinket]

Ethereal Eyes ||| Yeosang x Reader

Summary: Thinking of the perfect Christmas present isn’t easy, and for Yeosang, he wants everything to be perfect for his girl. It’s a shame ideas don’t seem to be coming to him... Genre: Fluff, teensy bit of angst, mostly fluff tho, some comedy! Warning(s): None, unless you hate angst or something, but it’s really really small, a tiny insecurity, nothing to worry about Word Count: 1748 Theme Song: Days Gone By - Day6 AN: December 7th & 8th prompt combined - Christmas present shopping and Christmas present wrapping (credit @songi-writes). I cannot think of a title for this one so my apologies. I may change it later oop—also Days Gone By is also the song that plays as the fic fades out all cinematically and as the writer you can’t tell me otherwise haHA!

~~~

Bundles of bouncing fluff bounding around ‘snowy’ pens, chirrups and twitters echoing over crackled Christmas songs, the swathes of smiling people laughing with the children as they picked out a best friend for their growing years.

Yeosang felt out of place, on his own, leaning over a fence, fingers reaching down to a tawny rabbit with a lopsided ear to gently rub his tiny head.

He was just waiting for you, after splitting up to cover as much ground as possible to get all the presents you needed. Neither of you had wanted to, he desperately just wanted to hold your hand, but if you’d gone round together it would have taken twice as long, and eaten into his schedule and you would never allow that—even if he was much more lenient when it came to it.

He still wasn’t sure what to get you for Christmas. He’d got everyone’s gifts besides yours. He hadn’t panicked before, but now it was starting to seep in.

Just as the little rabbit hopped away, his phone rang.

Confused, he picked it up, and then instantly yanked his head away from the phone, the shouts of the dorm over the receiver ringing in his ears.

There was a few calls demanding quiet and hissed hushes until eventually Seonghwa’s voice echoed over the line. “Yeosang?”

“Hyung, hi, is everything ok?” he replied sheepishly, eyes scanning the room for any inquisitive—or worse: irritated—faces looking at him accusatively. He found only one, and after nodding an apology, the lady indignantly turned away. She scoffed, but it allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, yes, everything is just fine. Nothing out of the normal.”

“Hyung, how do you even...” he searched for the right words, “cope...? W-with all of that?” He was so glad he’d moved out.

“What, the members?” There was a chuckle, interrupted by another yell. It sounded like San. God alone knows over what. “To be honest, I have no idea.”

Confused, but unsurprised, Yeosang opted to change the subject. “Seonghwa-hyung, can I help you at all?”

“Ah, yes, Hongjoong-ah wanted to know what Y/N likes. For her Christmas present.”

“Oh, has he not bought one yet? I thought he said he had?” he asked, looking back to the rabbits hopping around their little arena. He felt guilty for even asking that. It wasn’t like he’d bought her one yet either, and he was her boyfriend. Did that make him a bad partner?

“Truth is, none of us have. He just wanted to know so we could organise a group-present, something big perhaps,” Seonghwa sighed, “I told him it was a bad idea, that he’ll never get everyone to agree, not with an entire Yunho and San—and between you and me, a whole Hongjoong—in the house, but he wouldn’t listen. Anyway, maybe a few ideas would help?”

“Oh, yes of course, well, my girlfriend, she is quite—”

At that moment, there was a knock from the outside of the nearby window. His head flicked up, hoping it was the person he wanted to see.

As his eyes met yours, he immediately stood up, struggling to contain his happiness.

“Sorry, hyung, she’s right outside right now, so I’ve got to go, talk later!”

He heard Seonghwa begin to protest calmly in the way he always did when someone was inevitably about to do something he didn’t approve of, like chase a drone or play The Floor is Lava, but it did nothing, much like always, since Yeosang ended the call and dropped his phone back in his pocket without a second thought.

He didn’t hesitate, heading out of the door without a single glance over his shoulder, running over and very nearly knocking heads with you by how close he was when he came to a stop.

“Hey sweetheart,” you greeted, shifting your cacophony of shopping bags further up your arm.

He threw his hands into yours, bringing your fingers to his lips to shower them with kisses, as his beautiful eyes stared into yours relentlessly. “Hi,” he whispered sweetly.

“Have you got everything you need?” you asked with a giggle, trying to retain his gaze, but giving in to let your eyes drop to your hands.  You prayed that his answer would be a yes, you just wanted to go home and hide from the world with him under a blanket.

He hummed in thought, before nodding. “I think so.”

“Yay!” you cheered quietly, placing a kiss on his hand before pulling him by it, leading him towards the train station. Your eyes passed the window of cute animals, getting caught on the sight of a small girl holding a puppy above her head as if it was Simba.  You couldn’t help but smile, but it also sparked a thought in your own head. 

Yeosang had just come from there.

Was he buying you a...?

You couldn’t stop yourself from prying. You were an adult! You were allowed to avoid surprises now and ask about your presents, right? “Hey,” you swung his hand at your side to get his attention (as if you didn’t already have it—let’s face it he’d been captured by your face again so he was already staring right at you), “why were you in a pet store?”

He paused, unsure of an answer himself. “Uh...”

“Last time I checked, we don’t have a pet...” You added ‘yet’ in your head.

“No, we do not,” he agreed.

“Were you buying one? For someone?” you added quickly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I was just waiting for you, and didn’t know where to go so I went in there. It was warm. And the animals are kind of cute.”

“Oh, I see...!”

You let your head fall, trying to hide your disappointment.

Your optimistic side wanted to believe that that’s what someone who was buying you a pet would say. But you could hear the genuine undertones in his voice.

Oh well, the present he would give you would surely be amazing anyway.

He watched your face fall and instantly regretted his words, even though he wasn’t sure what it was that he’d said that had hurt you, or if it was what he said at all.

What had he done?

.

.

.

Back home, and sat up the dining table, surrounded by a multitude of slates of red and silver and gold, shimmering in the already-dimming sunlight, Yeosang was pouting.

He wouldn’t call himself a perfectionist, but he liked things to be well done and neat. And his wrapping, in his eyes, was not going well.

The thing was, it wasn’t half-bad at all, but he’d looked at your wrapping one too many times, with your precision and calligraphic handwriting, and couldn’t look at his slightly rustically wrapped presents with the same appreciative eye.

You’d noticed his puffed out cheeks and smiled reassuringly. “Sweetheart, your wrapping is fine! Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, but...”

“No buts!” you asserted. “You aren’t comparing your wrapping to mine, right?”

He shrugged, ears bleary. “I know I shouldn’t, I just... wish I could do what you do.”

“Honey,” you sighed pleadingly, hand reaching across the table to hold his, “I run a craft business that you don’t have time to help out in, it’s no surprise that your wrapping lacks the professional finesse,” you explained, hastily continuing, “but that doesn’t mean it’s bad! It means yours looks like you meant it, and took some time to do it. Mine just looks like I mixed up my friends with my clients!” You laughed, picking at one of the corners of the jewellery box you’d finished covering. “I should really make mine look more like yours, if I want to look genuine.”

He exhaled in a chuckle. “Sure, I guess.”

Not convinced, you continued, “Also, I wish that I could do the things you do—sing, dance, model, act, stare into people’s souls and make them spill everything they know because your eyes are so deep... but how useful would sharing the same skill set be?”

You’d made a good point, one of which he couldn’t disagree with. 

“Please don’t compare yourself to others, Yeosangie,” you pleaded softly, “you’re of a completely different level to everyone else—”

He tried to interject but you shushed him, pressing a finger to his parted lips.

“—and so comparing you to another would be like comparing a star to a campfire. Gosh, you’re so damn beautiful, Yeosang, as an entire being. And I know you can’t see it but I wish you could, I’d do anything for you to see yourself through those ethereal eyes of yours as you see everyone else.”

Your words had moved him, and he felt his heart sink and rise over and over, as if caught in the crests of a turbulent sea. He blinked, speechless and taking a deep breath, worked up the courage to look down at his handiwork.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all.

“You ready to carry on?” you enquired.

Your answer was a smile, and the request for the roll of sellotape. 

Cheering internally, you grinned back, passing him the tape and booping him on the nose as he leant across the table to meet you halfway.

“Yah, that’s my little bunny,” you cooed, deliberately being corny just to elicit a reaction.

And his grimace was exactly what you were after, sending you into a fit of giggles. “Hey, I’m not that bad!” you resisted, words rushed as you struggled to keep another burst of laughter at bay. 

It was that moment though that sparked his brain into gear, bequeathing him with the perfect idea for your Christmas gift.

How had he not thought of this before?

Admittedly it would be a little bit expensive, yes, but with some help from the guys still stuck at the dorm sharing their rooms the losers hehe it could quite easily become a reality.

And it would also help them out in the predicament in trying to work out what to get his girlfriend for Christmas.  Two birds, one stone. 

Genius Kang Yeosang.

“Yeosangie?”  You had your head tilted to match his own, which he’d knocked to the side subconsciously as he thought.

“Yes, love?”

“You ok there? You... really zoned out then.”

“Ah,” he nodded vigorously, “yes! Everything is... perfect! Let’s get these presents wrapped.”

It only occurred to him then, the question of how he was supposed to be able to wrap up a rabbit hutch.

~~~

AN: Welp this turned out longer than expected again. Yeosang is working his way up my bias list—slowly, gradually, but up nonetheless—and it’s slightly scary. 

Masterlist

(edited 22/01/2020)

[louistomlinsoncouk]

Louis Tomlinson is sticking to his guns

The tension between image and reality is a much-discussed phenomenon within fandoms, and has been a particularly prevalent conversation amongst One Direction fans in recent years.

Fans love the same person, but each one adores a slightly different version – we take what we need from interviews, performances, and tweets and we form our own idealised image. And yet, whilst those images are based on reality, none of them are entirely accurate.

When faced with the reality of their idol, how would you feel? I’d never had to think too deeply about it before, but suddenly the question weighs heavily on my mind as a One Direction fan about to interview Louis Tomlinson.

He walks into the room for our interview wearing tracksuit bottoms and a yellow jumper that, in recent months, I had become incredibly accustomed to seeing him in. He hugs me and introduced himself as Louis – as if I didn’t know – and then sits down on the floor. It's a move that reminds me of lazy afternoons at my best mates’ houses, and as I move to sit down opposite him, it's hard not to feel immediately comfortable. It's my first big indication that he is exactly the person I'd always believed him to be: laid back and easy to be around. That impression doesn't change throughout our interview.

We begin by talking about what Tomlinson's long-anticipated solo album is going to sound like. Based on the eclectic sounds of the four previously released singles, it’s difficult to judge. “It’s kind of been an educational thing for me,” he explains to me, “a chance to experiment”.

When Steve Aoki asked him to collaborate on a song, “Just Hold On”, he “hadn’t been 100% sure [he] wanted to do anything in the solo world,” but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “It was a bit of a dream of mine to play festivals like Ultra, which I did with Steve, and it was wicked”.

The time spent working on and promoting “Just Hold On” made Tomlinson realise solo releases were something he wanted to do, but he found it hard to combine where his interests lay musically, what he knew the fans wanted to hear, and “working out where that fits on radio.”

“There’s a lot of frustration on my end with where radio is at. There’s a lot of rap and hip-hop and that’s not really my taste – I’ve never been great in that world, you know.” We laugh about the idea of him trying to fit into that genre, and I fondly recall a jokey Twitter conversation between Tomlinson and One Direction bandmate Niall Horan about that very topic. Tomlinson also explai that “everything felt like [he] was starting again,” and how that was a little bit daunting – which is what made that first song so helpful.

“I was used to having three or four other lads around, so this all felt very different. I think it was cool for me, getting back into the swing of releasing music and doing promo and all that, going through that process with Steve at the start and then with Bebe [Rexha, who features on his second single ‘Back To You’].”

Feature slots on other people’s songs allowed Tomlinson to gradually get used to a new way of doing things, and gave him a chance to figure out his musical identity on the go. “I felt like I had a bit of room to experiment, [because it was] shared. I kind of went into their world with those songs a bit.”

“I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.”

I ask if third and fourth singles, “Just Like You” and “Miss You”, are more indicative of the overall sound of his debut LP? Tomlinson nods then shakes his head in quick succession. “‘Miss You’ was a little bit more… I suppose you could say pop-punk,” he muse, soon adding that “I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.” He indicates that ­– in that respect – “Miss You” is a strong indicator of what’s to come.

“Just Like You” seems to be the track Tomlinson is most proud of, and indeed most sure of its place within the record. It’s a song about how the differences in our circumstances do not mean we experience emotions any differently, and he admits that “it was a difficult one [to write].”

“I think that concept doesn’t normally work well ‘cause it just sounds like a whingey celebrity song.” He remains “super conscious” of that whilst writing it, as he was sure it was “a message [he] wanted to get out to the fans.”

“It was one I was happy with [too], because when someone listens to one of my songs I like them to be able to take something away from it, [I like them] to learn something about me.” It’s a song peppered with anecdotal lines and little details that reveal a lot about who Louis Tomlinson really is; what he really cares about. That’s certainly what he’s aiming for throughout his music.

“My lyrical style, naturally, is to just be matter of fact, honest, and sometimes blunt.” Some messages, Tomlinson suggests, are made even more powerful with metaphors – as in “Just Hold On” – but mostly, he says, “I don’t like being clever for the sake of being clever. Sometimes it’s cool to read between the lines.”

What he prefers as a listener is more of what he describes as a “brutal storyboard”. He references early Arctic Monkeys and the latest Liam Gallagher record – “I absolutely rinsed that” – as places he takes inspiration from. “It was really interesting to hear [Gallagher] talk like that [on 2017’s As You Were], it was like a breath of fresh air.”

We approach the subject of new single, “Two Of Us”, which I hear just before he arrives. The song has a particular, moving honesty that will surely touch not only fans but much of the general public. “I kind of shied away from writing that song because I didn’t really think I was ready to [go through that process] yet,” Tomlinson says, explaining how the track just happened. “I got into a session and we ended up getting into it, and it was going perfectly.” He notes that it was “a much more emotionally draining situation [in the studio] than [he’s] used to”, but also “one of the most fulfilling.”

“I really did want to write this song, I was just intimidated at first because it had to be perfect. There had to be little things in there that were really thought-provoking for me.”

Is he was satisfied with the song in its final form? “I feel like we got the whole message across perfectly," he tells me confidently. "How I felt before and how I feel now. I’m really happy with where it’s finished up.” There is a hint of nerves in his tone – understandable given how personal the song is – but he is reassured by my assertion that people will love it.

"Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling."

I wonder aloud whether the writing process for “Two Of Us” was made more difficult by the fact that he was writing with strangers, rather than the established group he worked with on One Direction material. “I think the way I were brought up and also where I’m from, I’ve got no problem just sitting here and spilling it out to anyone,” Tomlinson admits. “I’m sure sometimes I catch people off guard when I just spill half my life story and they’ve known me ten minutes, but it’s how you get the best out of a song.” He suggests that although “it was great having the group that we had in the band,” he feels like he’s learning more as a writer now. “It’s more challenging this time around. I’ve had to be a lot more engaged and take a real interest in the little things about what makes a great song.”

That’s not to say there are no downsides to working with new people at times: “I’m not going to say that every session I’ve been in has been amazing because there have definitely been some eggy ones. Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling”.

We talk about his his plans for touring, and I can't help but ask if he'll be performing any One Direction songs. His fellow bandmates all brought a few forward to their own tours, and – as arguably the main writer within the band – Tomlinson has the most to choose from. The subject makes him grin: “I’ll be doing as many as I can get away with.”

Tomlinson has already performed “Little Black Dress” from Midnight Memories back in 2017 – “it sounds better live than what we recorded on track” – and knows the fans will be expecting Four’s “No Control”, as it's always been very much considered his song: “The fans really got behind that one, and it always went down amazing on the tour shows. It’s a good sing-along one.”

He mentions a few others, name-checking “one of [his] favourite songs [he] wrote for the band,” “Love You Goodbye”, and fan favourite “Home”, amongst some more unexpected ones from the band’s back catalogue. Rather than looking towards the big singles, Tomlinson’s focus is on those he’s most proud of lyrically and musically – ones that, if he brings them on tour, will be deeply appreciated by the band’s most dedicated followers.

We return to the matter at hand: his upcoming album. The singer shows some regret at how long it’s taken him to finish – but also a flush of pride in sticking to his guns. “After ‘Just Hold On’, I could’ve just followed the trends on radio, but it felt important to me to work out exactly who I was as an artist," he says. "I know myself, and I’m happy to let [the album] go.”

Tomlinson wants to feel confident that when the album gets released, his self-knowledge will be reflected in his first solo full-length. He explains that, even now, he finds it frustrating at times because he wants to put music out and go on tour, but it wouldn’t be right to push: “The fans have been waiting so long, I owe it to them now to not rush anything. It would be silly now to just rush it out.”

I asked if the time frame has affected how he feels about any of the songs, or what they mean to him? After all, a lot can happen in two years. “Not really, because when I started writing this album, what I wanted was for it to play chronologically. I mean, the longer things take the harder this becomes to pull off, but it’s still something I want to do. It’s got to feel like you get to know what’s been happening for the past three years of my life. Although with some songs on the album I might not feel like that now, I know I did then and I still want to tell that story.”

Tomlinson’s a story is one fans are eager to hear, for sure, but one which will – no doubt – be of interest to wider audiences too.

Whatever is coming, Louis Tomlinson’s debut record is not an album people will be expecting from the One Direction star, nor one that will sit easily amongst the current chart toppers. But that’s a good thing. It’s exciting. And it’s definitely something worth waiting for.

[prorevenge]

But I Don’t Even Have a Contract!

When I was 16, I had a stint as a small-time social media star on Twitter — not because I’m particularly interesting or anything, but for two reasons: a) I got on Twitter really early in 2007 when it was way easier to get followers and engagement due to the site being less noisy and more ‘stupid’ in terms of algorithms and b) I stood out from a lot of other minor Twitter stars because I didn’t let it get to my head; while a lot of them were egotistical and haughty, I followed everyone back, turned ‘haters’ into friends instead of retaliating, etc.

Through this fleeting fame, my former boss found me. He said he was setting up a regional media studio to help small- and medium-sized local businesses with their social media marketing, and he planned to eventually franchise the business into other cities. He hired me on the basis of my large social following (81,000 followers at the time). Obviously, having a large social following doesn’t automatically mean you know how to market businesses on social media, but I adapted and studiously researched how to do my job properly.

My boss didn’t come from a creative background or a marketing role — he came from a property background, and was just sort of winging it in finding an alternative source of income after the housing crash. Being as young as I was at the time, I didn’t really think about any of this stuff. The outcome was that I never received any training, had no real guidance in what I was doing, and was generally left to my own devices. Younger me thought it was great! I saw it as ‘freedom’, but looking back, I realize it was far too much freedom.

The side effects of this disparity between my social media skills and his inability to communicate creative ideas manifested themselves as people trying to cut past the business and come straight to me, asking me directly as an individual whether I’d do work for them rather than give my boss the money. I was respectful (or naïve) enough to open up to my boss about this, and that’s when things started getting a little bit manipulative. He told me I could go my own way or remain part of a business that’d soon be growing across the country.

Fair enough, I thought. So I stayed, and one year in (I was 17/18 at this time) I realized that managing brands via social media had naturally morphed me into something of a graphic designer. A lot of my time was spent creating eye-catching visuals in Photoshop, Illustrator, InDesign etc. and so I suggested to my boss that we expand our media offering to include logo, graphic, and print design, and visual branding consultancy. Again, I received no training — I worked all day and self-studied late into the night.

  This pattern snowballed over the years. By the time I was 21, I was a social media manager, visual branding designer, copywriter, photographer, video editor, and web developer — all skills I developed independently with no input or guidance from my boss. The business was still operating in just one city, and my boss had started spending less and less time in the office. I still didn’t realize this wasn’t particularly normal, until clients who came to the office to meet me constantly asked where he was.

One day, a client went as far as to say: “You’re basically running the business at this point!” It was a huge ‘glass shatter’ moment for me, and I suddenly realized that, yeah, although I wasn’t actually managing the business and its admin work etc., without me, there wouldn’t be a service or product to sell. What’s more, my wages hadn’t gone up, even though my ‘this is great, I have so much freedom!’ mind-set had motivated me to continue working on stuff related to the business when I got home.

As I was nearing 22, the owner of the building where the business’ office was located asked me if I’d help him fix his computer (it was just running really slowly because he hadn’t managed his files very well). Not really thinking of it as work, I agreed, and headed into his office after work to help him out. As luck would have it, my boss walked in to hand over that month‘s rent, so he saw me there. He looked surprised, but didn’t comment — he just gave the dude the rent and left the building.

The next day, my boss wasted no time in probing me about what I was doing. He was speaking to me like a cop would speak to a suspect, asking me how long I’d been doing work for the landlord, what kind of work I was doing, why I hadn’t folded the work into the business, etc. I explained I was just fixing up his computer, and he leapt into a lecture about how we needed to keep all work inside the business, or else we would never be able to grow into other cities.

  I turned 22. I’d been there for five years, my wages hadn’t gone up, I wasn’t allowed to do any work outside of the business, I hadn’t witnessed any of the growth I’d initially been promised, my boss was only in the office 25% of the time, and I saw him uploading Instagram Stories from him lunching, working out at the gym, walking his dogs, taking day trips etc. while I was in the office managing everything. A lot of the time he didn’t even warn me he’d not be in the office. It became the norm that if he didn’t turn up, I’d be running everything for the day. Because I’d grown with the business from my youngest working age, I didn’t know any different, so all of this felt completely normal to me. And because I worked all day and all night and had no firm social life, I never got any outside perspective, until one day, on a whim, I opened up to the landlord about it. He hadn’t even realized I was the one doing all the work — he figured it was split fairly 50/50. He said the amount of work I was producing was on the same level as an agency with three or four employees.

I started managing all of the branding, social media, and website maintenance for the landlord’s business, but didn’t broadcast that news to anyone. As I was nearing the age of 23, I met my now-fiancée, a perfectly feisty woman who, as soon as I told her about my situation, passionately advised I start my own media studio. This is where I entered the ‘long breakup’ period of my job, where I got increasingly depressed at work and physically felt my productivity slow to a near-halt. My boss noticed, but never talked to me about it face-to-face. He started sending me irritated emails full of swear words demanding explanations for why I hadn’t delivered certain work by certain times and dates, while he was off sunning at the beach. It was like someone had pulled out his cork and let all the toxicity out in one torrent. My girlfriend hated him, and gently pushed me to the point where I felt like I was ready to confront him about the dead end we’d wound up in.

I asked a few of my friends about it, just to get a wider set of viewpoints on how I should go about it. They asked me things like, what does your contact say about you leaving the company and working with other businesses independently? Legal stuff, y’know. And that’s when I realized my lack of training over the past six years had also left me ignorant of the formalities of employment — I never had a contract! The real kicker was, I never had employee liability coverage either. My boss wasn’t even doing the admin stuff properly.

Obviously, that meant he also had no control over me when it came to contracts, so I literally just walked in (without my laptop — I’m now just realizing he never provided equipment either, yikes) and sat there waiting for him to arrive. Thankfully, it was one of the days he decided to turn up. He went and sat down in his chair, asked me where my laptop was and why I wasn’t working etc., and so I just straight-up told him that I was leaving the company to start my own media venture.

He laughed a patronizing laugh and simply said, “Alright, good luck then.” Part of me felt like this was normal, because he was usually quite cold like that, but another part of me knew that there should have been some sort of emotion and deeper discussion in that moment. I wanted to say, “so that’s it, then?” to try to flesh the talk out, but that really was it. He just turned to his computer and began typing away as if I wasn‘t there. So I just turned around and left, went home, and that was it.

He did WhatsApp me a message later that day (all his caring and considerate communication came through digital means — perhaps he hired someone on a zero-hour contract to inject emotion into his texts?) asking if we could meet at the pub for a proper goodbye. And we did. It was a nice gesture, but it felt very awkward and forced, as if he’d spoken to someone about it and they’d coaxed him into doing it. He shook my hand, wished me good luck (much more genuinely this time), and we parted ways.

  Three months later, I’d tripled my income as a freelancer. All of those clients who’d try to come to me directly over the years — it was like a floodgate had opened, and they all came rushing to me. I hadn’t told them I’d left, but obviously, they realized it themselves when they went to the office and I was never there. I felt bad about ‘stealing’ clients away from my former boss, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just abandon the people I’d been working with just because of morals. That‘d be immoral, if anything. I continued working with the landlord and even travelled with him a few times to build my solo filmmaking portfolio by documenting his brand’s work across the UK, including his talks at business seminars. We developed a very close working relationship, to the point where just my work for his company was earning me more than all the work I did for my former boss. He started sharing a few bits of gossip with me about how my old boss had begun paying rent later and later. I figure perhaps his cash flow had something to do with it, but the landlord also showed me an email my old boss had written in which he’d expressed his anger at the landlord for ‘colluding’ with me and pushing me to leave his company.

The further I distanced myself from the company, the more I realized how toxic he behaved towards everyone he came into contact with. I could never see it from the inside. Every time I checked the old company’s website, a new service had been removed, because it wasn’t something he could offer anyone anymore.

Back in November 2018, the landlord told me that he was kicking my old boss out of the office after he failed to pay rent for three months. A few weeks after that, the landlord proposed that we go into business together to create a separate media studio solely focused on the industry his business operates within. He said that we’d take the old company’s office once my former boss had moved out, and that I could also use that office for my own freelance venture, free of charge.

One year after leaving, I’ve taken 25% of my old boss’ clients, occupied his office, and quadrupled my income.

There’s a part of me that feels guilty about all of this — he’s a guy who didn’t quite know what to do after the housing market crashed and tried something out which didn’t go too well. But at the same time, I can’t feel too bad for someone who I believe took advantage of me for half a decade. If you treat someone with disrespect, you end up with very little. If you treat someone with respect, they give you a free office and offer to start a new business with you.

  TL;DR: Boss never did anything properly — no training, no contracts, no insurance, very little respect, not much guidance, empty promises about business growth, etc. Everything I learned independently resulted in me quadrupling my income and taking over his office within a year of leaving his company.

(source) story by (/u/Adingding90)

[spyder-m]

Tell Me More

Summary: Zack wasn't expecting to run in to anyone else while on standby at Costa Del Sol. Certainly not anyone who would leave such a lasting impression on him. Written for Day 2 of the Cloti/Zerith Endless Summer Week. Prompt 'Summer Nights.' 

 A/N: Originally written for Day 2 of the Cloti/Zerith Endless Summer Week, only sharing now because I’m bad at Tumblr.

Ao3 / FF.net / Twitter

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Summer heat, boy and girl meet...

Zack's legs ached as he dipped down for another squat, the sun beating relentlessly against his shoulders.

He wasn't sure rep what he was up to; he had long since lost count; but that wasn't important. The burning in his thighs was a distraction, a way to pass the time.

After everything that happened with Angeal and Genesis, Zack had been put on standby, a mandatory sabbatical to Costa Del Sol, and couldn't take on any missions.

Shinra had made the order, claiming to have his wellbeing in mind, but they didn't seem to realise the mental strain it was putting him through.

He wanted to dive back into his work, to put all of this behind him. That way, he could preserve Angeal's memory and teachings, maybe even give him closure.

But the higher-ups remained firm in their decision.

They must have seen him as a liability.

Zack had tried reaching out to Cloud with his PHS, hoping to live vicariously through any action his friend saw, but there was only so much he could tell him about routine patrols and guard duty under the plate.

To Zack, having that contact was almost worse than being completely off the grid. Not enough to quell his loneliness but make him long for the close interaction all the more. To be in the same space as another person.

He wasn't completely alone. Members of the Turks would stop periodically to check up on him. But it wasn't the same.

Without Soldier duties to pass the time, Zack had resolved to focus on training.

If nothing else, the beach climate gave a flair to his routine drills. There was a tide for him to swim against, sand that was harder to run across, heat testing his endurance and mental strength.

Cissnei had found him in the middle of a workout on many occasions. Sighing and saying that he was supposed to be here for some R&R.

Zack could only scoff, wondering how he was supposed to relax when the Turks were breathing down his neck?

Yes, Costa Del Sol was beautiful. He had enjoyed the first few days being able to swim and bask in the sunlight.

But, being confined to Shinra's private section of the beach, the luxury started to wane. It felt like something he would appreciate a lot more with some company.

Beat, Zack slumped back against the sand, breaths carrying heavily from his throat.

His gaze lifted to the clear, endless sky above, having to raise his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's glare. It was a sight and sensation he was still, strangely unaccustomed to. An unobstructed blue, no steel plate stretching for miles.  

Throat thick with saliva, Zack turned onto his side, wondering if perhaps he had worn himself out enough to sleep off a few more hours. It would be a great way to pass the time. Not to mention, the rest would do him good.

Relaxing beneath the shade of a nearby palm tree, Zack focused on the flow of water in and out from the shore, on gathering the steady, calming pattern of his breathing, hoping to expel everything that had been weighing upon his mind.

Just as he had been about to drift off, his Mako-heightened senses narrowed in on the unmistakable pad of footsteps carrying across the beach. Zack's nose wrinkled, frustrated at the distraction.

At first, he turned on his side, stubbornly seeking out sleep. He figured it was one of the Turks, coming to check on him. That maybe they would leave him alone.

But, having grown familiar with the unique nuances of each Turks' movement, Zack realised these footsteps seemed different... lighter, a grace to the person's gait.

They were a woman's footsteps, but not Cissnei's; he would have recognised otherwise. Then... who?

Zack sat up, his snapping in the direction of the sound. This unfamiliar presence had caught his interest, the curiosity gnawing at him. He knew he wouldn't be able to nap now. Not that that bothered Zack, any shift in his routine was a welcome one.

Moving towards the beach carefully, with all the stealth of a Soldier First Class, Zack held his breath as if afraid his presence alone would make her vanish.

A light blue dress fluttered against her bare ankles. Wavy, brown hair tied into a braid, loose strands hanging around her neck. She was smoothing out a towel, humming tunelessly to herself.

Zack gazed on, transfixed. He wondered if, the heat and exertion from his workout had him hallucinating. Still in disbelief, he rubbed vigorously at his eyes, dark splotches bleeding into his vision.

Yet, she remained in his sight. Solid, real.

Not having seen another, regular person in what felt like days, Zack was overjoyed.

Starved for a conversation, he stumbled to his feet, muscles like jelly thanks to his earlier torture.

Retrieving his towel, Zack draped it over his shoulders. He grimaced, conscious that his workout had probably left him sweaty and gross. He took solace in hoping that the pump would at least accentuate his muscles.

Undeterred, Zack sauntered over, lips settling into a smile he knew could leave any girls' knees weak.

"Hey there." He greeted. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone else around here."

Zack's voice trailed off, his breath catching as he was swallowed by the vibrant green of her eyes, a sight not unlike the sunlight billowing off of the stretch of water before them. Pulling back, he took in the rest of her features, the curl of her bangs framing them.

His charm and bravado dissipating, heat pooled in Zack's cheeks as all the trace of the next words he had been hoping to form slipped from his tongue.

What was wrong with him? Was he... nervous?

No, he didn't get nervous around girls.

Zack was suddenly beginning to remember his earlier work out and how dry his throat had gotten. It was rare that he was lost for words.

Her eyes crinkled in amusement, but she did not answer. As if sensing his unease and reveling it, leaving him to stew in the awkward silence. Offering nothing more than the lift of a delicate brow, a sign as much that she was intrigued, listening.

Somehow, the fact that she had him rattled and was so effortlessly teasing him, only intrigued Zack more. There was something different about her.

"I- uh, that is to say..."

Panicking, Zack's eyes darted around, hoping something nearby could spur on the conversation. His eyes settled eventually on the bottle in her hands; the liquid she was lathering into her shoulder.

"Need a hand?"

.

It was odd, though, not the first time Zack had found himself drawn so quickly and intensely to someone. He and Cloud had hit it off right away, but there was something about her.

Perhaps there was an urgency and excitement in knowing that they may never see each another again, understanding how brief their time together was.

Maybe it was a by-product of being in such a romantic, unfamiliar place or having been deprived meaningful human contact for so long, but everything between them seemed amplified; his head rushing at the slightest touch of her hand.

Perhaps he had become so stifled by routine that he was, almost defiantly, bucking against what was normal. Maybe that was why he had been so for forward with her. Even more so than usual. Eager to earn about and know as much about her as soon as possible.

Her name was Aerith and Zack was shocked to learn that, just like him, she was from Midgar.

With all the time he spent on missions and patrols, surely, they would have run into each other at some point. There was no way that Zack would have missed such a drop-dead beauty.

It made more sense when she explained that she lived in the Sector 5 slums with her mom and spent most of her time in the Church tending to the flowers there.

Soldier were usually topside and didn't go below the plate unless there was reason to. He thought about asking if she'd seen Cloud around before, but remembered he'd be wearing his helmet while on patrol, so it was probably a silly question.

Still, he was surprised to hear that flowers could grow in Midgar. They'd always been a rare sight in Midgar.

The more he learnt, the more hope Zack gained that there could be something between them. Whatever the reason, Zack didn't think of it as playful flirting, something not to be taken too seriously. He wanted to be closer to her.

Together, they walked across the shoreline, cooling their feet in the water. She lost her footing as a clump of sand give way, bumping accidentally against his arm.

With a teasing grin, Zack extended his hand for her to take. At first, she scoffed and turned her head, folded her arms in defiance. It proved too difficult to contain the laughter bubbling in her throat and she relented.

Her hand was soft and dainty, fitting comfortably in his own. Though he could feel tiny groves and cuts across her fingers, calloused skin on the flat of her palm. Did she fight with a staff of some kind?

As Zack asked her questions, he was caught in the way her gaze would lift, looking fondly into the distance. Her expression lighting up as she spoke about the children that she visited at the nursery by her house, or the restaurant she sometimes helped wait tables at.

It was cute.

Strangely, when he tried to broach what she was doing in Costa del Sol, she grew quiet, her body folding in on itself. Zack scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, sensing he had touched a nerve.

The dip in conversation stewed into palpable silence. Wincing, Zack's eyes carried to distant waves crashing upon the horizon, hopeful for a distraction. Above the spray of ocean water, her voice rose.

"So pretty..."

"Huh?"

"Your eyes."

"Why not take a closer look?" Zack grinned, facing her straight on.

The Mako infused in Soldier's gave their eyes a bright, ethereal glow. For some, they were unnerving, difficult to stare directly into. Almost a reminder of the danger and overwhelming power flowing through them.

Yet, Aerith only seemed drawn to his as she shuffled nearer, carefully studying each tiny fleck of blue or green. Zack couldn't recall a time held such a prolonged, unbroken gaze with someone.

Her face lingered close enough to his own that Zack could make out the daylight flickering through her hair, the pores of her skin and pout of her lips. He realised that if he just shifted slightly forward, he could easily take them with his own.

Zack swallowed, imaging how soft and warm they would feel, instinctively puckering his own as he edged closer. His eyes began to flutter closed as he felt her breath caressing his own.  Was she moving closer too?    

The sound of a helicopter touching down brought them snapping back to attention, disturbing the peaceful oasis they had found.

Zack rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that he couldn't get a second of peace from the Turks. Now they had ruined this moment. He turned toward Aerith, greeted by an expression of dread washing over her; her shoulders dropping.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, touching his hand over her back.

She flinched, her lips parting to answer, but her voice faltering. Zack frowned as he recognised Tseng stepping out of the helicopter, glancing in their direction. Beside him, Aerith stiffened.

"I- I'm sorry, Zack. But I have to go."

"Oh." He said, hoping the disappointment didn’t carry noticeably in his voice. "Okay."

Beginning to step away, Aerith's hands wrung together at her waist, seeming somewhat begrudging in her decision.

"Will I see you again?" She asked.

"Of course." Zack nodded, confident. "I'll make sure of it!"

He could track her church down. Maybe Cloud had seen it.

"That's a relief," she sighed. "I look forward to it. Well, until then."

As she turned away, Zack was struck by the urge not to let her go.

Yet, he felt powerless to intervene, shaken by her apparent ties to the Turks and what they could mean. Even as a First-Class Soldier, there were things about Shinra he didn't know. This felt like something far beyond him.

Clasping Aerith's shoulder, Tseng guided her into the Helicopter, offering Zack little more than a dip of his head as the door was shut behind him.

[dailytomlinson]

Fans love the same person, but each one adores a slightly different version – we take what we need from interviews, performances, and tweets and we form our own idealised image. And yet, whilst those images are based on reality, none of them are entirely accurate. When faced with the reality of their idol, how would you feel? I’d never had to think too deeply about it before, but suddenly the question weighs heavily on my mind as a One Direction fan about to interview Louis Tomlinson. He walks into the room for our interview wearing tracksuit bottoms and a yellow jumper that, in recent months, I had become incredibly accustomed to seeing him in. He hugs me and introduced himself as Louis – as if I didn’t know – and then sits down on the floor. It's a move that reminds me of lazy afternoons at my best mates’ houses, and as I move to sit down opposite him, it's hard not to feel immediately comfortable. It's my first big indication that he is exactly the person I'd always believed him to be: laid back and easy to be around. That impression doesn't change throughout our interview. ADVERTISEMENT We begin by talking about what Tomlinson's long-anticipated solo album is going to sound like. Based on the eclectic sounds of the four previously released singles, it’s difficult to judge. “It’s kind of been an educational thing for me,” he explains to me, “a chance to experiment”. When Steve Aoki asked him to collaborate on a song, “Just Hold On”, he “hadn’t been 100% sure [he] wanted to do anything in the solo world,” but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “It was a bit of a dream of mine to play festivals like Ultra, which I did with Steve, and it was wicked”. The time spent working on and promoting “Just Hold On” made Tomlinson realise solo releases were something he wanted to do, but he found it hard to combine where his interests lay musically, what he knew the fans wanted to hear, and “working out where that fits on radio.” “There’s a lot of frustration on my end with where radio is at. There’s a lot of rap and hip-hop and that’s not really my taste – I’ve never been great in that world, you know.” We laugh about the idea of him trying to fit into that genre, and I fondly recall a jokey Twitter conversation between Tomlinson and One Direction bandmate Niall Horan about that very topic. Tomlinson also explai that “everything felt like [he] was starting again,” and how that was a little bit daunting – which is what made that first song so helpful. “I was used to having three or four other lads around, so this all felt very different. I think it was cool for me, getting back into the swing of releasing music and doing promo and all that, going through that process with Steve at the start and then with Bebe [Rexha, who features on his second single ‘Back To You’].” Feature slots on other people’s songs allowed Tomlinson to gradually get used to a new way of doing things, and gave him a chance to figure out his musical identity on the go. “I felt like I had a bit of room to experiment, [because it was] shared. I kind of went into their world with those songs a bit.” “I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.” I ask if third and fourth singles, “Just Like You” and “Miss You”, are more indicative of the overall sound of his debut LP? Tomlinson nods then shakes his head in quick succession. “‘Miss You’ was a little bit more… I suppose you could say pop-punk,” he muse, soon adding that “I’m trying to strive for credible and live-sounding, rather than overproduced and programmed.” He indicates that ­– in that respect – “Miss You” is a strong indicator of what’s to come. “Just Like You” seems to be the track Tomlinson is most proud of, and indeed most sure of its place within the record. It’s a song about how the differences in our circumstances do not mean we experience emotions any differently, and he admits that “it was a difficult one [to write].” “I think that concept doesn’t normally work well ‘cause it just sounds like a whingey celebrity song.” He remains “super conscious” of that whilst writing it, as he was sure it was “a message [he] wanted to get out to the fans.” “It was one I was happy with [too], because when someone listens to one of my songs I like them to be able to take something away from it, [I like them] to learn something about me.” It’s a song peppered with anecdotal lines and little details that reveal a lot about who Louis Tomlinson really is; what he really cares about. That’s certainly what he’s aiming for throughout his music. “My lyrical style, naturally, is to just be matter of fact, honest, and sometimes blunt.” Some messages, Tomlinson suggests, are made even more powerful with metaphors – as in “Just Hold On” – but mostly, he says, “I don’t like being clever for the sake of being clever. Sometimes it’s cool to read between the lines.” What he prefers as a listener is more of what he describes as a “brutal storyboard”. He references early Arctic Monkeys and the latest Liam Gallagher record – “I absolutely rinsed that” – as places he takes inspiration from. “It was really interesting to hear [Gallagher] talk like that [on 2017’s As You Were], it was like a breath of fresh air.” We approach the subject of new single, “Two Of Us”, which I hear just before he arrives. The song has a particular, moving honesty that will surely touch not only fans but much of the general public. “I kind of shied away from writing that song because I didn’t really think I was ready to [go through that process] yet,” Tomlinson says, explaining how the track just happened. “I got into a session and we ended up getting into it, and it was going perfectly.” He notes that it was “a much more emotionally draining situation [in the studio] than [he’s] used to”, but also “one of the most fulfilling.” “I really did want to write this song, I was just intimidated at first because it had to be perfect. There had to be little things in there that were really thought-provoking for me.” Is he was satisfied with the song in its final form? “I feel like we got the whole message across perfectly," he tells me confidently. "How I felt before and how I feel now. I’m really happy with where it’s finished up.” There is a hint of nerves in his tone – understandable given how personal the song is – but he is reassured by my assertion that people will love it. "Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling." I wonder aloud whether the writing process for “Two Of Us” was made more difficult by the fact that he was writing with strangers, rather than the established group he worked with on One Direction material. “I think the way I were brought up and also where I’m from, I’ve got no problem just sitting here and spilling it out to anyone,” Tomlinson admits. “I’m sure sometimes I catch people off guard when I just spill half my life story and they’ve known me ten minutes, but it’s how you get the best out of a song.” He suggests that although “it was great having the group that we had in the band,” he feels like he’s learning more as a writer now. “It’s more challenging this time around. I’ve had to be a lot more engaged and take a real interest in the little things about what makes a great song.” That’s not to say there are no downsides to working with new people at times: “I’m not going to say that every session I’ve been in has been amazing because there have definitely been some eggy ones. Everyone has a different writing style. But when you do find that person or that group and it feels like you’re all on the same page, it really is an amazing feeling”. We talk about his his plans for touring, and I can't help but ask if he'll be performing any One Direction songs. His fellow bandmates all brought a few forward to their own tours, and – as arguably the main writer within the band – Tomlinson has the most to choose from. The subject makes him grin: “I’ll be doing as many as I can get away with.” Tomlinson has already performed “Little Black Dress” from Midnight Memories back in 2017 – “it sounds better live than what we recorded on track” – and knows the fans will be expecting Four’s “No Control”, as it's always been very much considered his song: “The fans really got behind that one, and it always went down amazing on the tour shows. It’s a good sing-along one.” He mentions a few others, name-checking “one of [his] favourite songs [he] wrote for the band,” “Love You Goodbye”, and fan favourite “Home”, amongst some more unexpected ones from the band’s back catalogue. Rather than looking towards the big singles, Tomlinson’s focus is on those he’s most proud of lyrically and musically – ones that, if he brings them on tour, will be deeply appreciated by the band’s most dedicated followers. We return to the matter at hand: his upcoming album. The singer shows some regret at how long it’s taken him to finish – but also a flush of pride in sticking to his guns. “After ‘Just Hold On’, I could’ve just followed the trends on radio, but it felt important to me to work out exactly who I was as an artist," he says. "I know myself, and I’m happy to let [the album] go.” Tomlinson wants to feel confident that when the album gets released, his self-knowledge will be reflected in his first solo full-length. He explains that, even now, he finds it frustrating at times because he wants to put music out and go on tour, but it wouldn’t be right to push: “The fans have been waiting so long, I owe it to them now to not rush anything. It would be silly now to just rush it out.” I asked if the time frame has affected how he feels about any of the songs, or what they mean to him? After all, a lot can happen in two years. “Not really, because when I started writing this album, what I wanted was for it to play chronologically. I mean, the longer things take the harder this becomes to pull off, but it’s still something I want to do. It’s got to feel like you get to know what’s been happening for the past three years of my life. Although with some songs on the album I might not feel like that now, I know I did then and I still want to tell that story.” Tomlinson’s a story is one fans are eager to hear, for sure, but one which will – no doubt – be of interest to wider audiences too. Whatever is coming, Louis Tomlinson’s debut record is not an album people will be expecting from the One Direction star, nor one that will sit easily amongst the current chart toppers. But that’s a good thing. It’s exciting. And it’s definitely something worth waiting for.