#somebody has YOLO on their body in that world

[sohnric]

sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes. 

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree. 

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way. 

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot). 

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes. 

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief. 

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy. 

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin. 

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored? 

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.” 

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?” 

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again. 

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze. 

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” 

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball. 

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second. 

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more. 

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts. 

“Why?” 

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?” 

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind. 

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake. 

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back). 

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference. 

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step. 

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

[missjoolee]

📓📓pleeeeaaase

OMG HI HI HI YOU! My mutual, my guy(gender neutral), my pal :D

You send me two books, you get two three fics with the same au. two Juke and one willex. These came from when I had a mini crisis about first words soulmate aus and how some kid born in the 80s probably has WAZZUP! on their hipbone because there isn't any possible way at least one person didn't have that. but then a lovely(deranged) spiral happened with @preoccupied-educator and these came about.

JUKE- canon adjacent

Julie's soulmate first words are something along the lines of "that's so rad" and it doesn't mean much to her as a kid because she had her parent's explain what it means and is pretty happy that her soulmate will find whatever she's doing super cool. It's when she has a slumber party with flynn and carrie that leaves her scared that her soulmate will be super old because "nobody has used 'rad' since the 90s" (thanks a lot carrie, 🙄)

When she goes into the studio for the first time after her mom dies, she listens to SC's demo and Now or Never inspires her to sit at her mom's piano where she finds Wake Up and she musters the courage to play it. Her singing is what summons the guys and after they get through the screaming exchange, Luke, not having a chill bone in his body when it comes to music, lets her know "that was so rad!"

and Julie, shocked at hearing her words, goes zero brain to mouth filter "oh thank god you're cute and not old". which finally gives context to luke's words and it has alex and reggie in giggle fits as luke stares at her in wonder and awe.

When things calm down, she still has a mini panic attack because wait her soulmate is old? No, he’s actually 17…he’s just been 17 for 25 years, does that make him old?

JUKE - canon adjacent but kinda sad?

Julies words are "my name is luke". Growing up friends with Carrie, she has met the dorky Trevor Wilson, so one day she looks through her parent's Trevor Wilson CDs and as she plays them in her room, lying on her bed looking through the jewel cases her eyes catch on the tracklist for one he put out in 2000.

7. My Name is Luke

She immediately switches the CDs and plays track 7. And she absolutely falls in love. It becomes her favorite song, connecting with the emotions of the lyrics.

in 2020, three ghosts fall into her mom's studio and after the initial shock, the one in the rush shirt introduces himself and her heart flutters as she hears her words. She is realistic though. lots of Luke's could introduce themselves to her so that doesn't mean this one is her soulmate. Luke hears his words but he assumes that since he is dead, they don't matter anymore so he doesn't react.

But as the weeks go by and he helps her find music again, she can tell things are different with him. And then it comes out that Trevor Wilson stole Sunset Curve songs. Stole Luke's songs. And it hits her that the song that she loves so dearly, the song that has become inseparable to her from her words, was written by this boy who has saved her in more ways than one and lafkjl;flkjafgh; Julie's filled with rage that it was stolen. It's basically "luke introduced you to rock" but like 2.0

Willex - primary school au

Alex's words are a source of anxiety for him ever since he was old enough to understand them. "That's not how you dab." Destined. FATE has sentenced him to disappoint his soulmate from the moment they meet. So when, in third grade, dabbing takes the school by storm Alex is determined to learn before he can meet his soulmate.

One day at recess, he sees a kid across the blacktop dabbing and he tries to mimic it to learn. After 2 weeks of watching and trying, alex is approached where he's practicing.

"That's not how you dab." is said with a good natured chuckle.

Alex is so nervous he doesn't reply but his lack of response doesn't offput the boy that he'd been watching from afar. Willie shows him how to dab again and all Alex can do is copy him again. finally with Willie's tutelage, he learns and then kind of runs away because he just met his soulmate! his soulmate was so nice! and then it takes him a week of building up courage to approach willie and say "thanks for showing me how to dab." and those end up being Willie's words and all along he was trying to find his soulmate by dabbing at recess. He turns and shouts across the blacktop

"I TOLD YOU IT'D WORK, AARON!"

(send me a book emoji and I’ll share the plot of a fic i’ll probably never get around to writing. No time frame on this. I will answer any that show up in my inbox so long as i still have ideas!)

[tortvred-artist]

TO THE PEOPLE WHO TAUGHT ME HOW TO DANCE

(an excerpt)

Teenage years was an unforgettable era of my life. Like the cliche goes, "it made me who I am today". Today is good even though much of it were dark hues. It's a stormy gray but whenever I wanted to find a silver lining, I just remember those people who taught me how to dance. To dance and be carefree like all of the worries in the world had finally disappeared. To dance awfully amidst the hyped up crowd while figuring out that there are no steps on not being awkward. But I didn't give a damn. When I dance, I thought of the happy places that we have been, that we could go or we could've been. Together. To dance with the rhythm, to be young wild, wilder, wildest and free, to live up to the high, quenching our thirsts for alcohols and liberties, those were the images of my silver lining. To follow my own rhythm in the middle of the raving crowd, to shout my heart out, scream at the top of my lungs, to convey everything with slurry speeches and blurry eyes, those were the times when I feel so much more alive than hurting. When we spin around till our heads get dizzy and jump until we pass out, dance with random strangers at the bar, laughing at every dumbest jokes we have ever cracked, these were immortalized in my mind. These were moments when I've tasted life's ecstasy for the young, the dumb, dumber, dumbest and the broken.

At times when my soul had finally lost its spark, this is the only resolution that I've found. To relive those euphoric moments not with the actuality of it but with just a mere thought. Then the irony of life unravels itself by making me weep while reminiscing those elating episodes. It just made my heart even colder. Never will I be ashamed in admitting that I have become insatiable, looking for the same drive. I kept wandering endlessly and didn't even know what I am looking for or who I am looking for. My rhythm dissipated, replaced with docility. I can't dance in anybody else's music not even in my own.

I morning the night but with a much way different purpose; to survive but not to live. I hear your music so so far away that I couldn't discern where it came from. To survive but not to live. To survive but not to live. To survive but not to live. Survival made me abandon my beats and I am always left here hanging and wondering if you did the same, too. Life without dancing had really messed me up. Remember when we became so wasted and cure our hangovers every morning? Life felt like that right now, it made me so wasted that my hangover has no plausible remedies like bowls of the spiciest soup number 5's. Even dozens of paracetamol had no effect.

Still in a dizzy state, not recognizing how I've lost you to the crowd, too hazy to recall who let go of each other's hands first. I could hear both of us calling but we can't come into contact. Surreal. All there ever is are echoes, echoes, echoes. I know now that you're dancing with somebody else yet blame isn't under my grip knowing that a stranger caught me first while I'm drifting my way back to you. Some music were so bland, the other ones were too addictive, and too destructive. I've learned how to waltz, to glide, to rock and it made me so exhausted until I decided to stop. The world stopped with me. But it turns out that I am the only one who had been frozen in time.

YOLO nights are over and the storm isn't abating. The skies are still gray but you know what? I've stumbled upon a stranger who taught me how to dance in the rain, carelessly, like Charlie Chaplin, like her. But even so, what made my body sway is the thought of you, the people who were there with my demons, and who made me dance amidst the rhythm of pain and pleasures.

I hope you still had it in you.

💀

[earwaxinggibbous]

“Congratulations” VS. “Started From The Bottom”

Started as a bottom, now my whole team’s fuckin’ rears.

Self-aggrandizing rap and hip-hop anthems have existed since the genre was invented. It’s just a really nice, friendly way of saying, “hey! I’m better than you.” Generally speaking, whoever is on the track should have the power and clout behind them to make all of the bragging seem warranted. A great example is Eminem’s Rap God, which has a chorus that literally has Eminem saying he’s beginning to feel like a rap god. And we buy it, because hell, Eminem basically IS a rap god. Regardless of how you feel about him, especially as a person, there’s no arguing that his flows and style require an insane amount of skill. (Or at least, they used to.)

The other big rule, once again using Rap God as an example, as that the song should actually be good. Because if you’re bragging about being the coolest rapper with the most chains and bitches while rapping like complete shit, your point is pretty much moot. When Eminem speed-raps in Rap God, it’s essentially the proof that he is in fact the man named in the title. 

There’s only one real problem with these songs when it comes to audience reception: They’re not relatable to anybody except other rich rappers and musicians. Which can be kind of a problem since that’s not really who the music industry is aiming to please. So in somewhat recent times we’ve been getting a different flavor of self-aggrandizing rap. Songs that, instead of saying “I’m super great”, they say, “Hey, I started from humble beginnings and worked my way to the top, and now I’m super great”. Which gives us viewers the idea of this sort of achievable dream that is nearly within arm’s reach.

Enter two very, very different hip-hop artists, at two very different times.

Drake and Post Malone, in my opinion, are both pretty good, in my opinion.

Let’s start with Drake. Drake feels at least a little more like a “real rapper” than Post does. Maybe because he was on Young Money, or because he doesn’t have that sing-songy flow that Post does, but he just feels more like somebody I’d describe as a rapper. If I had any reason, I’d say it’s because Post Malone’s music, even his ego-boosting shit, tends to sound stoned or morose the bulk of the time. Drake’s voice isn’t much fun either, but at least I can believe his ego based on his vocal tones alone. Post has a tendency to sound really, really sad, or just super high.

Now one might say, “Panda, you can’t compare these two songs. Started from the Bottom precedes Congratulations by four years.” But the reason I’m making this comparison is that, despite Drake being considered the superior artist by nearly everyone, Congratulations is basically the better version of its predecessor. 

Let’s discuss this.

Now for one thing, I fucking hate the music video of Started from the Bottom. Not because it’s that bad, though depicting “working at a drug store” as “the bottom” is pretty fucking stupid, the video itself does a pretty good basic job at getting across what it wants. I just hate the skit.

I remember pulling up the song on YouTube and thinking, Jesus, this song is 5 fucking minutes long? Half the lyrics are just the title. Relax, past Panda, one minute of that video is a stupid skit that shows up randomly before the second chorus. A full fucking minute of two of Drake’s coworkers, not even Drake himself, but two of his coworkers at Duane Reade or something ogling some woman who’s checking out of the store. It’s not funny, it doesn’t really add anything, and the two guys can’t act. Drake’s body language is awkward and goofy in the music video, I doubt he’d be a great actor either, but that’s fine, he’s just the guy who made the song. Most of what he needs to do is lipsync along to the track and wave his hands around anyway. But the two guys are in a skit, an acted skit that requires acting to happen, and they suck.

It doesn’t help that it’s interrupting what is already one of the most monotonous songs that the lord hath graciously dumped on top of our collective consciousness like a weighty cow turd. The video actually tries to help the song by making it look like Drake really did work a crappy job with a bunch of assholes and was raised in a shitheap. But this isn’t true.

And I hate bringing the lives of artists into their music more than anything. Because ever since really getting into Eminem’s works, I’ve been seeing every musician’s persona as a character. Now some musicians characters, like say, Mary Lambert, are very close to their real-world self, or even identical. Others, like David Bowie or the aforementioned Eminem, are essentially entirely different people offstage. Then there’s incredibly creative people like ThatPoppy who sort of blur the difference between a musical persona and the person behind it. And honestly I find that way more interesting than ripping into an artist personally. (Unless it’s Taylor Swift.)

But Started from the Bottom is an argument against critics who don’t believe Drake ever really suffered or understands the lower class. And I’ve read about him, so I can say that he should. He wasn’t living in a complete shithole, generally Canadian shitholes are better than American ones, but he still dealt with a parental divorce, bullying due to his race and Jewish upbringing, and having to see his father arrested. But there’s two issues once we reach this point.

One. This song never mentions any of that. And two. After dropping out of school he got a TV job to act as a main character on Degrassi. And since this song isn’t about his childhood, I can only assume it’s looking back on his days as a working-class young adult.

NO, Drake. BAD hip-hop artist.

Being an actor on a TV sitcom is not the bottom. Not to mention that even when he left to start making music, he essentially had his career set. Once you’re an actor on television, if people watched your shit, you can almost definitely get a job in music afterwards. It worked for Miley, Demi, Ariana, and Selena, there’s no reason it wouldn’t have worked for Drake. Not to mention that he got picked up by Young Money, which is essentially a free win for anyone who’s better and more interesting than sentient iguana man Li’l Wayne. (Which was surprisingly rare, apparently. Where the fuck is Gudda Gudda’s next single, Wayne?!)

Yes, Drake, we know you weren’t rich. That doesn’t mean you were at the bottom. I live in a comfortable apartment in Midtown and my mom works a law firm, and we don’t even call ourselves rich. “Not being rich” is different from “the bottom”. “The bottom” is only owning hand-me-down underwear, living in a downturned umbrella and eating dirt for nutrients. 

But lyrically this song doesn’t tell you anything. All the stuff I know about this guy is just from Lyric Genius and Wikipedia. 

Wow, you only argue with your mom once a month?

Lucky bastard.

Also, really quickly I wanna comment on the uncle line for a second. “The keys” are specifically to his drop top Lexus that young Drake was borrowing. I don’t think you need me to say that people who are on “the bottom” don’t tend to own convertibles. 

And, like, rich people work at night and get in traffic too. Just because you’re in a limousine doesn’t mean there’s no traffic. It’s just slightly more enjoyable traffic. 

And then Drake just spends the rest of the song essentially sucking his own dick without expanding on his hardships, which was supposed to be the point of this track from the beginning. And I don’t get the whole “no new friends” thing he always says, this isn’t the only song he’s said it in. Drake, unless you’re gonna tell me that the entirety of Young Money and several other well-known rappers went to high school with you like some kind of wacky rap music-based sitcom, I’m pretty sure you’ve made some new friends. Either that or your obvious baby crush on Nicki Minaj is painfully laced by inconceivable amounts of mistrust.

So you’re either a paranoid asshole who just admitted to not trusting the people that got him into the game in the first place, or you’re a liar. Good to know!

Honestly this song makes me just kind of not like Drake as a person. Which is probably one of the worst things you can do as an artist. If you’re trying to make a song that allows people to sympathize with your plights or revel in your success, being this illegally unlikable while doing it isn’t helping your case in the slightest.

But honestly the worst part isn’t even the douchey lyrics, it’s just the song itself. It just feels like it goes on forever.

(Pictured: A hook, apparently.)

The chorus itself is so repetitive I’d rather listen to fucking Come and Get It, Drake has a really bad habit of sounding literally bored to death, and the beat just sounds like a Future song jacked off on GarageBand. Lame snares and lame backing tunes. One whole piano key. Wow, Drake, you’re almost as good at playing physical instruments as your mentor.

(Even he hates it.)

Sad to say the beat and production is probably the best part? Drake’s voice wrecks what was already a weak beat. Whenever he wants to be self-aggrandizing he just sounds fucking bored. Like the most self-aggrandizing thing about it is the fact that he doesn’t think he needs to actually try. In fact, The Motto (YOLO) had the exact same problem. I actually prefer that song. The beat still isn’t high art, but it’s got a little more snap to it. Kind of reminds me of Sage the Gemini’s Gas Pedal, which falls into the category of songs that aren’t that great but can be danced to if put on the setlist. 

But this? It’s no fun. A hard 1 out of 5, and that’s only because its attempted premise was almost salvageable. But all I really got out of this song was that Drake is an asshole, he went to school with Lil Wayne apparently, his mom is really really nice since they only argue once a month, and he should just go back to desperately wishing his girlfriend would call him on his cell phone. You’re way better at being sad than--

Fucking... goddamnit.

Now Post Malone is kind of... different. In many ways. One time he said he doesn’t write rap music, and while normally I’d attribute that to him being a pussy who’s too afraid to contribute to what is and has always been a predominantly black genre and racism and he secretly doesn’t wanna be associated with them or whatever. But honestly I’m inclined to give Post Malone some leeway because really, he’s a singer. He makes notes. He’s singing with a hip-hop flow and occasionally has actual rap guests who... honestly end up doing a similar thing on his tracks. (In this case, it’s Quavo! Hurray!)

Oddly enough I actually went through a few songs to compare this to before settling on Drake. I considered Cheap Thrills, as they both sort of follow a similar concept of ‘today’s a good day, let’s go clubbing with only three bucks in our collective pockets’. Decided not to because really Cheap Thrills could be more accurately compared to a myriad of other songs. Considered White Iverson, his first single, but decided they didn’t really have enough in common to use it. I had options.

Really the only reason I went with this is because Congratulations succeeds in every place that Started From The Bottom fails.

Rather than attempting to detail Post Malone’s past suffering, it moreso discusses the actual rise to fame. And alllll the people who said he couldn’t do it.

Beatwise this one outclasses Drake’s already. I remember reading critics describing Started’s beat as “haunting”, which was apparently a good thing. I don’t get it. Congratulations, on the other hand, is carried by a sort of stoned, laidback tempo. Really speaks to the whole idea of “hey, we worked really hard, our album dropped, and now we can take a break and have some fun!” 

Honestly if Post Malone wrote more songs like this and less straight-up luxury porn/self-aggrandizing rap like White Iverson or rockstar. (I feel like I’m a minority in not really minding either one of those songs.) Also I must say that Post Malone seems to be really good at picking guest artists. On rockstar he has 21 Savage, whose big thing is that he’s gangsta and shoots people and don’t fuck with him, which at least fits into the attempted tone. (Honestly Sav fits better on that song than Post does.) And in Congrats, we get Quavo.

Not only do Quavo and Post sound really good together on this, as their vocal range seems somewhat similar implying some kind of bro-type unity shit. Honestly this song gives me more band vibes than rockstar does, albeit a very different kind.

You know, you just started your band, you’re waiting to hit it big, you’ve put in all this effort with barely any money, you’re living in a shitbag apartment with 4 other sweaty dudes and you all have to sleep together and Quavo keeps rolling over and shoving his nuts in your face. It’s completely garbage and your drummer has to whore himself out for money, you accidentally get paid for a gig in beer tickets like in that one episode of Metalocalypse, and then finally, FINALLY, you drop a tape that hits big. You get on TV, you meet a record exec, and you’re calling your mom during the afterparty and you’re all celebrating because it’s been so LONG since you could just have a BREAK and now everybody’s SAUCIN’.

EXACTLY.

The lyrics work perfectly for this, but not only that, it’s to show all of the naysayers who insisted they couldn’t do it. All the haters who are now suddenly super gung-ho about how they used to be friends with Post Malone even though they actually shoved him in a locker literally every day. This somehow manages to be super-laidback and super-hype at the same time, which seems to be Post’s general style. Candy Paint has sort of a similar feel. That’s also a fucking great song. I love Post Malone. There. I said it.

But the biggest difference between these two songs is that I somehow get some feeling that Post Malone started somewhere. When I hear Congratulations, I feel like he actually had to put in some effort to get where he is. His first big hit only even got released because somebody leaked it. Nobody was ever expecting it to be as big as it is. Stoney in general is an insanely personal album, and it all feels surprisingly honest for the genre despite the drops of luxury porn and self-aggrandizing. 

Basically, TL;DR: Drake cares more about the destination than the journey. Post gives us both the conflict and they payoff. Drake’s beat lacks texture or purpose, whereas Post manages to meld his melodic voice with a smooth backing track. Also, Post occasionally bothers with wordplay! Lyricism in a melodic rap song? Who would’ve thought?

Hell, it even manages to fix the “no new friends” idea displayed by Drake by sort of re-interpreting it as “no fake friends”.

And fuck, I almost forgot to mention Quavo.

Oh Quavo. Your verse may be short, severely lacking in punchlines and technically mediocre, but you just... you sound good. You sound good with Post. Somehow Post fucking Malone manages to totally outclass one of the Migos on this track. But Quavo does pretty well. I kinda like the “Huncho Houdini” line and a few of the football puns. In the end his verse is a little too short to really judge as anything more than decent.

(Also, the music video is great.)

But yeah, who would’ve thought this white stoner with braided sideburns would manage to completely slam Drake, the god of the late 2010′s? I’m honestly tempted to give this thing a 5 out of 5, but due to a few not-rhymes that nearly slip past due to Post’s mild drunken slur, I’d have to drop it into a 4.5/5. Still, I love this song. I love this song, I love Post Malone, fuck it. Judge me if you want. I have yet to hear a Post Malone song I don’t like.

Which I guess doesn’t mean much since he only has an album and an LP out, but...

It’s more than can be said for Drake at this point.

[goodlordexo]

My First Thoughts On Some Of Madtown's Songs

Madtown YOLO: Cool start to the MV. Cute boy looks through a slate, always good. AND THE MUSIC HAS BEGUN AND ITS GREAT. THIS IS REALLY CATCHY. THAT GUY CAN RAP. THIS BOY CAN ALSO RAP. BLONDE BOY CAN SING. OH LA LA LA LA LA THIS IS REALLY CATCHY I LIKE THIS A LOT. I appreciate that they're doing mainly rap but it flows really well. OH SHIT THEY CAN SING TOO. REALLY NICE VOICES. I'm digging their outfits too. THAT WAS A COOL BACKFLIP. THAT WAS A NICE HARMONY. CHORUS IS ADDICTIVE. New World: Interesting start to the MV. I LIKE THIS SONG TOO. I really like that they do a lot of rap. It's just a nice steady beat and they follow it easily. RED JACKET HAS A REAL NICE VOICE. WHITE SWEATSHIRT ALSO HAS A GREAT VOICE. I like this group a lot. They have good dance music. I'M ALREADY DANCING. It sounds like it would be a lot more hardcore of a hype song (like angry rapping and singing) with the track playing behind their voices, but they actually flip it and it sounds really motivating and positive. I didn't expect that but I like it! Get Out: I like this a lot too. Different feel that the other songs. I like the building beat in the background. BOY YOU RAP FAST. NICE VOICES. Were they by chance on a survival show?? That's what this particular video looks like. Somebody has a really good voice that I really really like. WHY ARE THEY NOT MORE POPULAR? THEY CAN RAP AND SING AND DANCE JUST AS WELL AS ANYONE ELSE?? OMGT: I'm pretty sure I've heard this song before. THIS DANCE PRACTICE VERSION IS GIVING ME LIFE. DAMN YOURE BUILT. THEYRE FUNNY AS HELL. THEY CAN DANCE. I LIKED THIS BEAT AND BROWN JACKET CAN SING. THOSE BODY ROLLS ARE CONTAGIOUS. I REALLY LIKE THIS SONG. PLAID SHIRT IS HILARIOUS. LIGHT PINK(?) HAIR HAS A REALLY NICE VOICE. YES PLEASE CONTINUE TO DANCE. THAT RAP IS VERY NICE. ROCK THE STAGE BOY. CHAIN NECKLACE HAS A NICE VOICE. I really like them!!! I liked YOLO and OMGT the most probably 😂 they're very cute. And also VERY TALENTED. GIVE THEM ATTENTION PLEASE. Thank you for showing me them! 💕(I know what you mean now about the OMGT dance practice version ⭐️ anon, it's amazing)

[warau-okami]

29 Japanese Idioms That Tell It Like It Is

言い習わし (いいならわし)

言い習わし are a type of 諺 which are short phrases, usually using some kind of allegorical example from daily life, nature or agriculture to pass on some wisdom or philosophy.

1. 出る杭は打たれる (でるくいはうたれる)

English translation: The nail that sticks up will be hammered down

The most commonly-known 言い習わし outside of Japan is probably 出る杭は打たれる, which means that by standing out, you invite criticism.

2. 案ずるより産むが易し (あんずるよりうむがやすし)

English translation: Giving birth to a baby is easier than worrying about it

This is used as a reminder that often our fear is worse than the actual threat of danger.

3. 知らぬが仏 (しらぬがほとけ)

English translation: Not knowing is Buddha

The best English meaning I can assign to this is “ignorance is bliss,” with bliss being Buddha in the Japanese version.

4. 虎穴に入らずんば虎子を得ず (こけつにいらずんばこじをえず)

English translation: If you don’t enter the tiger’s cave, you can’t catch its cub

This has to be one of my favorites.

It expresses the same sentiment as “nothing ventured, nothing gained” in English, but literally translates as a perilous adventure with tigers and cubs—which I think paints a great picture of both the risk and the reward.

5. 井の中の蛙大海を知らず (いのなかのかわずたいかいをしらず)

English translation: A frog in a well does not know the great sea

This a wonderful way to express the idea of a person who’s satisfied to judge everything by their own narrow experience, remaining ignorant of the wide world outside.

6. 鯛も一人はうまからず (たいもひとりはうまからず)

English translation: Eaten alone, even sea bream loses its flavor

This is another one of my favorites.

Even in modern Japanese, it’s believed that a significant part of the pleasure of eating is to sit around the table to share a meal with loved ones. This philosophy of hospitality, family time and shared meals takes on even more significance in our busy modern lives.

7. 腹八分に医者いらず (はらはちぶにいしゃいらず)

English translation: Eight-tenths full keeps the doctor away

This is just like our “an apple a day” saying, but I’d say the Japanese version is a little more helpful for long-term health. Beyond the simple mantra about eating in moderation, this 諺 expresses the cultural taboo of excess in Japan.

8. 明日のことを言うと天井のネズミが笑う (あしたのことをいうとてんじょうのねずみがわらう)

English translation: If you speak of tomorrow, the rats in the ceiling will laugh

This is one of the less concise idioms in Japanese, being a quite convoluted way to express a universal truth: The future is unpredictable. This is similar to the English saying, “we make our plans, and God laughs.”

9. 明日は明日の風が吹く (あしたは あしたのかぜがふく)

English translation: Tomorrow’s winds will blow tomorrow

Now this is a truly beautiful proverb. It’s a hopeful phrase that means “tomorrow is a new day.”

10. 雨降って地固まる (あめふってじかたまる)

English translation: After rain falls, the ground hardens

This is yet another beautiful phrase coming straight from nature, with the same idea as in the English, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”—but I personally like the Japanese version much better.

慣用句 (かんようく)

These 諺 are a little shorter than 言い習わし, but also often use images from nature and agriculture to express their meaning. If you want to learn some more 慣用句, check out ten more in this article from Japanese Words.

11. 花より団子 (はなよりだんご)

English translation: Dumplings over flowers

Everyone’s favorite dorama actually uses a 慣用句 to create the title: “花より男子” (or “Boys Over Flowers” in English). This is a play on the phrase presented above, 花より団子, which translates as “dumplings over flowers” and indicates that one should value substance over form, or that useful items have more value than purely decorative ones.

So in the timeless classic dorama “花より男子,” Domyouji falls in love with Makino precisely because she’s resourceful and practical rather than superficial.

12. 相変わらず (あいかわらず)

English translation: The same as ever

13. 猿も木から落ちる (さるもきからおちる)

English translation: Even monkeys fall out of trees

We all make mistakes! Comfort your Japanese friends after a blunder by saying this cute phrase.

14. 朝飯前 (あさめしまえ)

English translation: I’ll do it before I eat breakfast

This has the same meaning as “a piece of cake” in English.

15. 見ぬが花 (みぬがはな)

English translation: Not seeing is a flower

This another gorgeous one, meaning that reality can’t compete with imagination.

16. 天下り (あまくだり)

English translation: To command or dictate, or to descend from heaven

There’s a practice in Japan so common that it has its own idiomatic name, where bureaucrats are often able to find high-ranking jobs in private firms after retirement.

17. 猫に小判 (ねこにこばん)

English translation: Like gold coins to a cat

This is like the English “casting pearls before swine,” but uses “like gold coins to a cat” to express the folly of wasting beauty or quality on somebody who doesn’t appreciate it.

18. 七転び八起き (ななころびやおき)

English translation: Fall seven times, stand up eight

Motivate yourself through tough times with this idiom. It translates as “fall seven times, stand up eight,” and it’s a reminder that when life knocks you down, all you’ve got to do is stand back up. That eight time standing up is what counts in the end—not the seven falls.

19. 口が滑る (くちがすべる)

English translation: A slip of the mouth

This is just like the English idiom “the cat’s out of the bag” or “spill the beans,” as it means to let out a secret.

四字熟語 (よじじゅくご)

四字熟語 are the shortest 諺, and really show how concise Japanese can be. They’re made up of four kanji characters and are basically untranslatable, as the characters don’t necessarily represent the meaning of the idiom.

You can learn more 四字熟語 and read about their origins in China in this Tofugu article.

20. 因果応報 (いんがおおほう)

English translation: Bad causes, bad results

This emphasizes the Buddhist philosophy of karmic retribution. The English equivalent is “what goes around comes around.”

21. 自業自得 (じごうじとく)

English translation: One’s act/one’s profit

This is like the English “you reap what you sow.”

22. 一期一会 (いちごいちえ)

English translation: One opportunity, one encounter

This expresses how every encounter we have is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. In modern Japan, it’s sometimes used a little differently, to say that “you only have one life”—a little more poetic than #YOLO!

Many 四字熟語 are derived from Chinese four-character idioms (known as chengyu), but this is an example of an indigenous Japanese idiom.

23. 十人十色 (じゅうにんといろ)

English translation: Ten people, ten colors

This is just like “to each his own.”

24. 起死回生 (きしかいせい)

English translation: Wake from death and turn to life

I like this one because while it’s optimistic, and it’s used to encourage others to turn a bad situation into a success, it really highlights how terrible it can feel to be in a bad situation.

25. 花鳥風月 (かちょうふうげつ)

English translation: Flower, bird, wind, moon

This is a poetic phrase that doesn’t have any sort of direct translation, but instead concisely expresses the beauty of nature by listing the kanji for “flower, bird, wind, moon.”

26. 一石二鳥 (いっせきにちょう)

English translation: One stone, two birds

This is exactly like the English “to kill two birds with one stone,” but it’s a little more concise. It simply reads “one stone, two birds.”

27. 一日一歩 (いちにちいっぽ)

English translation: One day one step

This is the kanji for “one day one step,” and it encourages us to take one step a day toward our goals.

28. 温故知新 (おんこちしん)

English translation: Review past, know future

This is to look back at the past and learn from it, and to take that knowledge into the future. It’s a little bit similar to our English, “history repeats itself,” as it implies that your knowledge of the past will help you know what can happen in future situations.

29. 異体同心 (いたいどうしん)

English translation: Two bodies, one heart

This expresses the harmony of mind between two people as “two bodies, one heart.” It’s a beautiful sentiment, don’t you think?

[iguana012]

iguana’s 2017 4CC recap

That moment when you start talking about yourself in the third person’s point of view #iwentthere

Anyway the past weeks have been full of interesting, beautiful, controversial, what the fuck moments. To put it shortly, all those ingredients consisting the very essence of figure skating. Aren’t you glad you got yourself into this hell beautiful world of art and sport in which people are gracious and well mannered and they totally do not bitch and moan about scores, results, politicking and other nonsense. Right? 

So 4CC was supposed to be the ~test event~ for the Olympic Games and I’m not gonna lie, if the Olympics are going to be remotely similar to this event I’m just gonna give up on life, beliefs, values and I’ll admit everything I’ve believed in has been a beautiful lie. Injuries, PyeongChang jitters, meltdowns, you name it. I spent the ladies event wishing somebody would call the ambulances, doctors, psychologists, ANYTHING to put most of those girls out of their misery. That competition was so damn tough I felt like I hit my own butt against the ice every time I saw them bombing their programs, bombing their bodies, bombing each other, idek. During the men’s event I was screaming my face off when I saw Yuzuru landing a decent quad loop, only to press my face against the floor the moment he doubled and I mean DOUBLED the next quad. Bro. How do you. How do you rotate a quad loop and fart the salchow. How many times does it have to happen. On the other hand Wenjing Sui and Cong Han owned the party and I’ve had their SP on repeat for the last few days. DAMN. Technically perfect, face giving on point, hair flipping also on point, what else would anyone want? And then there was Tessa Virtue and her lolz partner Scott Moir effectively trolling the rest of the field. 

And now here are some of the things I’ve written down DURING the competitions because honestly, nothing can beat whatever shit your brain is spewing when you’re watching the thing versus when you reminisce about it.

4CC LADIES

I believe Wakaba got her shit together for today 

She still looks terrified lolz don't die Wakaba pls

omfg 

I guess... it's time to pray for Satoko to be in her best condition at Worlds... 

omg noooo don't cryyyyy

28 PCS................................ 

AHAHAHA ZIJUN PLS 

The PCS are WILD and not in a good way 

Remember when Polina won 4CC 

Rika-senpai, do your thing

Ooooh boy 

All the PCS points from this event went to Evgenia 

That rink looks like a big puddle of water 

Poor Wakaba has been dealing with puddles at TDF and now here 

RIP Japan & USA's 3 Olympic spots 

I hope Mirai shows up like let me show you how it's done 

The green room more like the emo room 

Wakaba in the emo room like hi Satoko 

Mai looks like ~no fucks given~ which is good to see, I guess 

How many Rippon jumps has Eteri incorporated in Elizabet's FS stay tuned 

Mirai skating like eat shit USFSA 

WELL MIRAI JUST SHOWED THEM HOW IT'S DONE 

Good job Mai now repeat that at Worlds 

I'm jealous of her technique on Satoko's behalf 

4CC MEN

HOLY REYNOLDS 

THIS CHOREO HIS FACE 

(still better than what Nam will probably do lol) 

GO HAN DON'T DIE 

Han's feeling sexy today 

omg clean program wtf 

king of midair #faces 

His head looks like a pineapple

terminathan is in the building 

thank you Keiji for ditching the perm 

Keiji pls you're supposed to carry the legacy of Machida guru of headcases 

Nam your shirt is blinding me 

the way he slows down into his jumps is killing me softly 

TERMINATHAN 

4Lz-3T CLEAN 

4F CLEAN AND BOOTIFUL 

i see u fangirling Marin 

3A UGLY BUT CLEAN 

GOTTA DRINK SMTH BEFORE I SEE THE SCORE FOR THIS BRUH 

YOWZA 

did Patrick meet Yuna yet

DEARLY BELOVED 

(lands 4Lo) YASSS

(doubles 4S) ADHSHSGSEWT

SRSLY NOW 

that shit eating grin 

ur hair is a mess get a haircut 

lmao Shoma don't break a leg tripping on a pooh 

KUYASHII 

why do u skate to this music Shoma 

those intense Machida glares 

lol Patrick 

uuuhhhh...... 

i'm guessing he didn't meet Yuna 

"sat down on the quad" 

oh god Han 

Leonardo Di Caprio is suddenly whispering in my ear

he should have a cigarette between his lips 

SHE A CAPULET 

the green drunk room 

.... well Shoma’s fall was in tone with the music 

cue emergency combo 

COOOMBO COMBO COMBO 

COMBOOOO COMBOOOO HAHAHAH

COMBO ERES COMBO YO TODO EL MUNDO COMBO 

Shoma has learned the quad loop but he also attached Canadian axels 

oh god it's tsundere (Yuzuru)

this one will probs fail on the quads and land the axels 

that axis was yolo 

hissing between teeth: must. get. this. gold. 

what a beautiful flying seaweed 

did he just add another fucking quad 

i'm totally buying what you sold today zuzuru 

look at that he's an angry demanding princess 

a sparkling angry seaweed 

300+ GIMME FIVE BRORSER 

don't die Nathan lol 

serious business lutz 

Yuzuru and his 4CC curse 

is Nathan gonna beat him by 0.33 

IT'S OKAY ZUZU IT'S PLATINUM NOT SILVER 

Nathan-senshu went from battling Sota-senshu to Sota-senshu's beloved idol 

zuzu goes back to 4cc after 84 fucking years and he gets chen'd 

Kubo can now write an anime about how zuzu got chen'd 

Chen'd !!! On Ice 

i think zuzu has enough silver to turn into jewelry. like he can make an engagement ring for his future partner 

he's gonna kneel down and say 'this is made of my sweat, tears and blood so will you marry me' 

So what have we learned from this experience? A lesson in images:

[iguana012]

Russian Nats: The Aftermath

Ho Ho Ho and Happy New Year to everyone reading this! I’m back with a (very) late recap of one of the most important national competitions and possibly that one competition where the judging panel either gets batshit crazy or they are, in fact, Santa’s reindeer in disguise and they give free PCS candy to everyone.

Because although the Russians celebrate Christmas on January 7, the Christmas tree is already lit and the atmosphere is festive. Why wouldn’t it be since Mrs Santa herself is there supporting the children with her... well... shouting, hitting the microphone, tears and so on. 

After making the Grand Prix Final in some way, Ekaterina Bobrova and Dmitri Soloviev continued to dominate at Nationals winning their event by a comfortable margin. In the men’s event Maxim Kovtun’s trolling wasn’t on his side; he eventually came back in the FS and made Mrs Santa cry but Mikhail Kolyada ended up taking the crown. In the ladies event Evgenia Medvedeva felt comfortable enough to throw #yolo 3-3-3 combination even though she knew her third triple would be invalidated while in pairs Ksenia Stolbova showed who’s the boss (and their butler) while Yuko Kavaguti and Alexander Smirnov ended their season here. DETAILS UNDER THE CUT! 

I’m mostly gonna talk about the ladies because the level of holy shitness in this event overshadows all the others. 

Former World Champion (can you believe that) Elizaveta Tuktamysheva still can’t seem to find her mojo. Not only that, but her mojo has been MIA for so long, she didn’t finish anywhere near the podium (she was 8th). Two seasons ago Liza was winning every single competition (except Skate America and Russian Nationals) with a pair of muumuus and a pair of programs that fit her like a glove. Some kind of cabaret Bolero as her SP - that inevitably made me imagine just how it would look next to a live orchestra led by an old white haired conductor - and some kind of strip club Scheherazade (without actual stripping going on in her FS) which required joint wiggling, a sport she might just be better at than figure skating. This season she came up with a Mozart remix so tacky it would probably make the creators of Moulin Rouge! jealous except she decided to switch back to last season’s SP at Nats. And uh, a bat program? Bat queen of caverns? That would explain the falls... since there are, like, hollows in there. ANYWAY Liza is at this point in her career where she became famous with an Ice Ice Baby hit a few years ago and there’s nobody left to write another hit for her. 

Former World Bronze Medalist Elena Radionova (also known as Kate Winslet) brought an interesting SP which she’s able to sell the crap out of BUT somebody had to skate to Turandot this season. SOMEBODY had to do it, okay. She became a top skater right at the same time Liza had her breakout season, except she remained relevant for another season... and a half. Because this season also ends here for her. Her body hasn’t been nice to her at all, she became much taller while her jumps became much smaller but the determination and grit never changed and no matter the quality of her jumps (or lack thereof), she managed to pull through. She made it to the GPF but in a field this deep there’s only so far she can go with her current technique. And when her technique gets worse, you notice several flaws that have been there since the beginning: the posture, the so-so skating skills. 

Current World Bronze Medalist Anna Pogorilaya has pogoturned this season around and taken 180 degrees turn from pogosplats on pogosticks to pogonsistency, pogoconfidence all the while giving pogoboners to everyone. Her Por Una Cabeza SP gives her the opportunity to show her new acquired #sass and although she seems to be wearing a dead animal on her shoulder and the music breaks into a (unnecessary) remix, you just can’t take your eyes off her. She is blessed with a lot of beauty. Blue eyes, full lips, long limbs - truly blessed. The only critique I’d have is her telegraphing her jumps in the FS (so much that she often ends her program after the music), lack of finesse like she isn’t finishing her movements and she’s also very focused to get the job done which makes her performance fall flat in the FS. Other than that, she did get the job done, she had a magnificent Grand Prix season but politics the judges pushed her off the podium either due to not being impressed or due to having Maria Sotskova’s carrots up their butts. 

Speaking of Maria Sotskova... uhm. Well the judges clearly like her! I mean she made the GPF... and her cheer thread on FSU is called “poetry on ice” while I struggle to recall her programs so she must be good. From a powerful club I hear. That would make some sense. She’s a nice kid but it’s like she got her 5 minutes of fame here and will be a filler until Alina Zagitova and Polina Tsurskaya turn seniors... I mean this is her first senior season and yeah she can improve but for now she’s kind of average. And plain. 

And now we’re left with the girls from Eteri’s factory who are basically running the world now and at the Olympics most likely. Eteri’s newest invention is called Alina Zagitova, a 14 year old prodigy who milks the system better than her senior Medvedeva: she doesn’t raise one arm but two, she doesn’t split her jumps into first half and second half, she just skates through the first half and jumps the crap out of the second half, gets all those bonus points and ends up with a higher TES than Medvedeva. But she’s wearing one of Medvedeva’s old costumes. So she’s like. Medvedeva 2.0? Like the Windows 10 to Windows 8? The Snow Leopard 10.6.8 to the Snow Leopard 10.6.x I don’t know I don’t even use Mac but you get the gist. 

And finally the OBVIOUS winner and reigning World Champion Evgenia Medvedeva. I really admire this girl you know? No bullshit. I’m kinda envious. She brings a couple of “what the fuck is going on” programs, she gets her picture taken and she says спасибо, is able to express the horrific consequences of terrorism like “she’s only 16 and her expression is SO mature she is the best skater ever” lalala. No matter how much bitching there will be regarding her programs, her choreographer (also inventor, visionary, arteest) Ilia Averbukh knows how to milk the system as well as Eteri. Evgenia is SO self-confident she goes “well what the fuck I know I’m gonna win I might as well throw a 3-3-3 in the second half of the program just to troll my coach lolz”. I wonder if she was thinking what present to buy for Yuzuru in the middle of her tano jumps? Girl is not afraid to go after the gold. Or her crush for that matter. By the way, the third triple of the 3-3-3 was underrotated, So 0-1 for Eteri. 

And this is a rare picture of choreo genius Ilia Averbukh

AS FOR THE REST OF THE COMPETITION I’M GONNA PUT IT SHORTLY