#there is a 80% change you already got spoiled since you follow me anon

[mari-lair]

i feel kinda embarrassed about skimming over the tbhk stuff for the isat stuff cause like you're having so much fun with it and whatnot and im not choosing to leave it later

and thing is idk when later is

it could straight up be never

additionally idk how to start tbhk so like please help me out >-<

No need Anon, you don't have to like everything I post, if you're here for isat you are here for that! And all is good in the world.

if you are genuinely curious though here is a warning/ how to get into.

first the warning: tbhk got VERY different vibes from isat.

The characters mental health will deteriorate over time and arguments are how most issues are fixes, but i doubt most characters will get a happy ending. A big chunk of their issues will not be addressed or explicitly stated (they are all around 15 yo, they are not nearly as mature as the isat cast). Fond family is not the focus, romance is! And all of the main romances are varying levels of unhealthy and selfish. All of them. For every nice quality someone has, they have an equally as hurtful one (be it to themselves, to others, or both)

Also here are some trigger warnings: allude to suicide, death, sexual harassment, psychological abuse, choking, feelings of dehumanization and lack of hope or even identity (a big part of the cast is already dead and some humans have issues), horror imagery cause of the supernaturals and curses, heavy allude to child abuse (a character is a child soldier but we never go in detail about his past on it), and someone gets eaten alive (not cannibalism cause it was a demon + most of it was censored but still that scene was chilling)

If that still interests you, I suggest the manga cause while the anime is serviceable they don't have art as good as the manga, the lines and the expressions one of my favorites, i love the art style, like LOOK AT THIS:

the scenarios are cool too it's not just the expressions/way they 'move' with their whole body

and if you like isat the lack of colors of the manga very likely won't be a turn off

The anime also make the fatal mistake of not including a very short arc (2 chapters) where it both properly introduces one of my favorite characters, and gives one of the main guys A BIG character development. I don't want to spoil the arc or what character i'm talking so i'll just show the title.

overall the manga have more detail and I personally want to eat up every character quirk and little crumbs of depth that I can.

The manga have a whole 120 chapters and isn't finished though. So if you want a test drive to see if you like the overall vibes you can check the pilot, which have 3 chapters and while it is very different from the main story, the vibes/writing is similar.

If don't want a test drive/have patience for slow build ups, here is the first chapter of the official tbhk manga

[andormeddows]

A night at the opera ::: John Deacon (I)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x John Deacon

Requested: Yes! Anon, if you’re reading this, I would love to know if you liked it or not!

Summary: The reader is a very talented opera singer, but the company she’s at makes her feel bad about her weight, because she has a bigger bust than most others do. She gets fitted for a dress which causes her to feel insecure about its extreme cleavage and John reminds her how perfect she is and how much he loves her frame. Fluff!

Word count: 3432

Warnings: None, I guess?

Notes: See what I did with the title? Sorry, it just had to be done! Also, guys, I know nothing about how Freddie and John walked around London, so I tried to picture… I don’t even know if people would run for then if they ever saw them on the streets. Sorry, I don’t know. I also had to do some research about opera in general, hope I could get its essence. I pictured 80′s Deacy while writing this one. Anyway, I hope you like it! I loved this request! Feedback is always appreciated!

Part 2 is here!

Masterlist is here!

The scenery changed on the upstage as the opera overture rehearsal ended. The screeching of the sheaves echoed as ropes were fiercely pulled. Musicians, accommodated in the orchestra pit below the stage, hurriedly reorganized sheet music. Artists packed the offspring wings, including you, awaiting the orchestra cue for their entrance.

However, as soon as you noticed your colleagues looking sideways at your costume, you timidly hurried away from the crowded offspring to the backstage. As always, they weren’t exactly admiring your costume, but vilifying you for the extreme cleavage made visible by it.

“It seems costume designers measured YN’s bust wrongly once again,” Tina murmured to Dermot, simpering at her own ruthless words.

Being an utterly talented opera singer had never characterized you amongst your colleagues. In fact, it had always been unimportant after being hired by the company. Since the first day, comments have been whispered regarding your bust, bigger than average, causing you to feel insecure about your weight. It had never been a preoccupation, but, after accidentally listening to ballerinas shrieking with laughter backstage while teasing your presentation because of your costume, doubts emerged.

“YN! It’s your cue!”

Astoundingly blinking, the director’s voice dragged you back to your senses. The artists on the stage silently whined, rolling eyes at the director’s command to restart the act. Once again, people gathered on the offspring wings.

“Can you get this right?” Tina questioned irritated, voice exploding with sarcasm. “We’re debuting tonight, love.”

As the orchestra restarted the music, people reached the stage. Ballerinas moved across the upstage according to the choreography as extras reached their positions, silently acting. Gulping, you obliged your legs to move, dragging your body to the stage center, where a spotlight had been focused. Your hands tightly gripped at the skirt, slightly pulling it upwards.

In his apartment, at the very time your voice echoed around the theatre, John sighed. His luggage lay untouched by the apartment door. The Game Tour had been over for five days. He refused to unpack until his mind accepted the fact that the chaotic, but marvelous, months spent playing bass around the world were over.

Drafts of unfinished songs lay over the coffee table, whether being written on tour or during boredom-filled hours at his apartment. Underneath the mess, lay two tickets accompanied by a short letter. Your letter. John smiled, sitting on the leather armchair and pulling it towards him. He would never mistake your slanting handwriting for any other on Earth.

God, he had missed you. Being away from home for such a long time without being able to call you for weeks in a row had its effect on him. He missed spending afternoons with you listening to old records. He missed the nights you would spend at his apartment as he wrote songs, bass propped on his laps while he repeatedly played melodies. He missed going for late night walks around the city, stopping by coffee shops to buy any hot beverage. He missed visiting you on the opera house, where he would explore its backstage and all its magical, yet slightly messy, environment. He missed hearing your angelic singing around your apartment. He missed seeing your laugh, how your face would lovely contort into a smile and lit up with such happiness.

He missed you. Absentmindedly chuckling at his thoughts, he took a sip from a steaming mug of tea in one of his hands as he reread the letter. He couldn’t wait to see you.

Deacy,

I could have called you, but it would definitely spoil the surprise. Since I already had to send the tickets, I decided to write a letter as well. Honestly, I wish I could pay you a visit and hand you them myself, but we have been rehearsing non-top for the past two weeks. A new opera, in which I got the leading role, will be debuting a few days after you’re back from tour. It would mean the world to me if you came to watch it! The problem is I only got two tickets, so I cannot invite all of the boys, which is rather shitty .Would you, please, apologize to them in the name of myself? I’m sending both of the tickets anyway in case one of them wishes to come along. I miss you! Love you.

Yours always,

YN.

Hurriedly drinking the remaining tea, John winced as the hot beverage burned his throat. He abandoned the mug on the coffee table, reaching for the telephone table. He dialed Freddie’s number, anxiously listening to the telephone beeping.

“That’s Freddie. Yes?”

“It’s Deacy, Freddie,” John excitedly answered, fiercely gripping at the handset and pressing it against his ear. “Would you fancy accompanying me to an opera tonight? YN’s debuting in it as leading role and sent me two tickets.”

“Is she?” Freddie smiled at John’s words. “God, I would love to.”

When the starry sky shone above London, John giddily pulled his black leather jacket hanging by the apartment door before leaving his apartment, tickets held tightly in his hands. Freddie’s Rolls Royce parked by the sidewalk on the other side of the street. John’s body shivered, buffeted by the wintry wind as he crossed the street.

“Hurry up, Deacy! We should never be late for the rise of a star.”

John got in the car, putting the seatbelt on and receiving a gleeful smile from Freddie. The city lights shone as they crossed London. John observed people on the sidewalks, overcoats and boots packed the streets as winter approached, showing its first signs.

The driver pulled by the opera house, cars parked in front of it. Occasionally, horns would echo accompanied by the shouting of irritated drivers. Freddie’s Rolls Royce lost between many other cars parked by the other side of the large street.

John and Freddie hurriedly crossed the street as people gathered at the opera house entrance, tickets held tight between their fingers. John pulled the pink tickets out of his jacket pocket, reading them in order to find the right section entrance.

“She got box five reserved for us,” John mused, heart inexplicably racing at his own words.

“She must love us, then. I mean, you. I’m just your humble guest, dear,” Freddie answered pressing his lips in a thin line to prevent a smile from crossing his lips as John absentmindedly stopped walking, mesmerized by your gesture. “Shall we get inside?”

After entering the vast theatre and accommodating himself in box five beside Freddie, his eyes wandered to the stage. The heavy red and gold curtains were closed, revealing a tiny stripe of the dark wooden floor. Several musicians sat in the orchestra pit tuning their instrument so that it sounded perfectly. The painted ceiling bore a gigantic chandelier. John’s eyes focused on it, mesmerized by its beauty as though bewitched by it. Its excessive golden details shone magically under its bright tiny yellow lamps. His peripheral vision registered painted naked angels around it, holding harpies as though praising the chandelier.

“This is marvelous,” he whispered.

“Everything about an opera house is marvelous, dear. I’m actually glad to be here,” Freddie answered, observing his surroundings.

John watched the people moving below, crossing the theater looking for the correct seats before averting his gaze to the leaflet received at the entrance in his hands. It presented information about the opera, listing its acts. The following pages announced every artist participating in it along with their roles. A black and white picture of you in one of your costumes of the show occupied a whole page, a brief text present you, your career as an opera singer and your role in the debuting show.

The constant noise of conversation reached their ears as the seats were gradually being taken by the public. John couldn’t suppress the smile that crossed his lips. He felt proud of you it would actually be an understatement to say it. A full house would witness the rise of a star.

After the sounding of the alarm, a masculine voice politely asked for people to accommodate themselves before warning that any recordings of the show were strictly prohibited. The lights slightly diminished, the lamps of the chandelier shone feebly as a spotlight focused in the middle of the apron. The opera director announced its start, presenting you as the opera diva. John whistled loudly as the roar of people clapping filled his ears. He felt his heart would burst in pride.

The heavy red and gold curtains were slowly opened, revealing a magnificent scenario as the orchestra started playing, the classic music echoing in the perfect acoustic arrangement of the theater. As earlier during the last rehearsal, artists packed the offspring wings, including you, awaiting the orchestra cue for their entrance. The costumes were now properly worn, the makeup and different hairstyles done meticulously.

You exhaled in nervousness,   averting your gaze up to the stage ceiling packed with ropes and sheaves. Your voice would certainly fail. Where you good enough for the leading role, anyway? You would certainly stumble over the dress skirt. People would laugh at your costume for showing too much.

The sudden thought of John witnessing your failure caused you to feel dizzy. Should you have invited him? Your cheeks acquired a light shade of red underneath the makeup, shame creeping up your veins. A mirror stood beside your anxious figure. Your eyes unwillingly averted to your reflection on it. That costume was ridiculously tight. Had costume designers measured your bust wrongly as Tina had suggested? The extreme cleavage made visible by that dress utterly annoyed you.

“Don’t lose your cue, YN,” Dermot teased, being followed by some other artists.

“Oh, shut up, loser,” you mumbled irritated, crossing your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes at his strutting to the edge of the offspring.

“We shall see who the loser is at the end of the performance, yeah?”

“Prick,” you whispered at him.

The overture was over, the scenery changed on the upstage. Music still played as people reached the stage. At a particular high note reached by the violinists, you obliged your legs to move, managing to straighten up your face. The nervous expression was replaced by an adorable smile as you graciously reached the stage center. A spotlight shone above you, illuminating your figure in an angelic manner.

John’s eyes accompanied your movement through the stage. Your willowy figure angelic illuminated by the spotlight caused his heart to miss a beat. No other goddess would be as stunning as you. God, he could admire your costume for the rest of life.

“Oh, fuck, John,” Freddie murmured beside John, mesmerized by your figure. “She’s a goddess.”

“She’s more than a goddess, Freddie,” John replied, hanging on the edge of his seat, intending to stand near the box handrail.

On the stage, you obliged the negative thoughts filling your mind to hit the back of it. No benefit would be gained by dwelling on them. Taking a discrete deep breath, moving in a regal manner, you opened your mouth intending to start singing as the orchestra hit another cue.

John’s eyes brimmed with tears of joy as your magnificent singing filled the theater, engulfing it in a magical moment. He gripped the velvety box handrail as he watched you transform the whole atmosphere of the place. Intense shivers wandered through his body, causing him to smile at the sensation.

Freddie excitedly watched your figure. His eyes attentively recorded every move of your hands and arms. He had never seen a more pleasing body language. He, then, averted his gaze to your mouth and throat. He could practically see your vocal chords working to produce those angelic sounds.

Ballerinas surrounded you. Your dress shone below the spotlight, sparkles occasionally reaching people’s eyes. Your hair combed into an elegant bun, filled with minuscule silver flowers, caught John’s attention in a second. A few strands of hair framed your features. Oh, what a marvelous sight.

After two hours of incredible singing, acting and dancing, applauses exploded through the theater as people eagerly stood up. The cast bowed, smiles all over their faces. John whistled loudly once again, clapping non-stop.

The artists left the stage, leaving you alone. A spotlight focused in the middle of the apron, to where you paced. Another round of applauses exploded. A genuine smile crossed your lips as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. After the amount of whistles, applauses and praising at your debut in a leading role, you wished your talent would be recognized by the company, who, up to that moment, vilified you for the extreme cleavage made visible by the dresses you wore.

Your eyes observed the crowd, averting to the right of the theater, where box five could be seen. You had obliged yourself not to glance at it during the whole show, afraid that John would have given up on you. But there you saw him, smiling and clapping eagerly. A silent laugh escaped from your lips as your eyes landed on him. Freddie stood beside John, equally clapping. A few tears streamed down your cheeks at their reaction towards your performance.

“Magnifica!” Freddie bellowed at you.

The director reached the stage once again, taking your hand in his and flashing you a proud smile. Both of you bowed together, earning another round of applauses. You stepped back as the red and gold curtains started to be pulled closed by the staff. The roar of the crowd was muffled by it, the applauses never seemed to cease.

Once Freddie and John reached the agitated street, John pulled Freddie to the staff entrance intending to wait for you to leave the theater. It took a while until you managed to shimmy out of your costume. Your dressing room had been filled with bouquets, a flowery smell filled the air as Harper helped you undress.

Quickly thanking him for helping, you left the dressing room, crossing the theater corridors in order to reach the staff exit. You smiled at the security guard at the door, who kindly opened the door for you. As soon as the cold night air buffeted your body, your eyes wandered through the street.

“YN! YN!”John’s voice echoed from a few meters on the grey sidewalk.

You ran to his arms, letting your body collapse against his. His arms embraced you in a tight lasting hug as he pressed kisses to the side of your head. Strands of your hair hit his face because of the wind, but he smiled. You were there.

“God, I missed you!” you mumbled against John’s shirt. “I missed you so much! Where’s Freddie?”

“Hm, he left already. He apologized for having to leave without complimenting you, tough,” John nervously answered, Freddie’s words echoing in his mind before leaving — “I guess I’m leaving, John. I’m sure you both need some time alone, yeah?”

You timidly smiled. “Hm… This is actually…” you gulped, averting your eyes to your hands propped on his chest, almost reaching his shoulders. “What do you think of spending the night at my apartment, John?”

He chuckled nervously. “Wouldn’t you like to rest? I mean… I’d love to, but…”

“Don’t worry. It wouldn’t bother me at all, you know?”

John nodded, fingers anxiously pressing against your waist. Your eyes bore into his, another timid smile plastered over your lips. You blinked a few times as strands of your hair hit your face. “Thank you.”

John asked for a taxi, opening the door for you with a gentle smile. The ride was silent, but John’s fingers timidly crossed the leather seat looking for yours. Your heart missed a beat as he hesitantly tangled them together, causing you to press your lips in a thin line as anticipation hit your body. It was a normal gesture for a friend, wasn’t it?

“You looked like an angel tonight, YN,” John murmured. You shook your head, smiling at his kind words. However, they weren’t enough to erase your insecurities.

“John…” you started unsure. “I actually need to talk to you about something.”

John gulped, the gentle grip on your fingers momentarily faltering as the taxi driver pulled by your apartment. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, of course not,” you rushed to reply. “This is actually about me.”

You quickly handed the taxi driver the money, thanking him before leaving the car. John followed you, a concerned look on his features.

“What’s wrong, YN?” he anxiously asked while closing the backseat door.

You shook your head, reaching the sidewalk. You both entered the block of apartments as you fumbled with the keys inside your overcoat pocket. You unlocked the door to your apartment and entered first, turning some of the lights on. John couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your apartment. He missed it.

“I… I don’t know how I should start this,” you admitted, reaching the kitchen and pulling the fridge door open. “It’s actually ridiculous, but it’s been bugging me for a while.”

John anxiously waited for you to continue as he followed you into the kitchen. You offered him a beer bottle before resting against one of the counters and chugging a glass of cold water down. You tried to work out the words inside your mind. Nervousness filled your body. Should you talk about how insecure you felt towards it? By talking about it, you would oblige him to notice your body if he had never done that before. Wouldn’t it be awkward?

“Hm, YN…” John started, crossing the narrow kitchen towards you. He propped the beer bottle on the counter, next to your empty glass of water. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I know I spent a long time away, but I hope it didn’t change our friendship?”

You could notice an insecure tone in his voice, desperately shaking your head. “No, God. John, it would never happen. Nothing can change our friendship. It’s just that… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable talking about it.”

He shook his head, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Go on, try me.”

You chuckled at his words, fondly gazing at him. However, you soon averted your gazed to his chest. “I haven’t been feeling comfortable with my body lately. I joined this opera company probably a month after you left for the tour, you know? Since then, I’m feeling self-conscious about my image. They fit me into tight dresses that end up showing too much.”

“Too much, YN? It’s a dress, nothing more than a costume.”

You sighed frustrated. “That’s exactly the problem. It’s a dress! Most of them make extreme cleavage, John… It actually makes me feel uncomfortable. I see other girls walking around the stage in similar costumes and I… I feel I’m overweight. They fit perfectly into their dresses…”

“Look at me, YN…” John whispered, taking another sip from his beer. A loving gaze lit his features as his hands slowly caressed your upper arms. “You’re perfect.”

“John, cut the bullshit,” you retorted, sighing in frustration once again.

“YN, I mean it,” he replied. “Why would compare yourself to those other girls? Weren’t you the one who admired all shapes and forms, praising people for being who they are? Why don’t you celebrate yourself either?”

“John…”

“No, wait,” he whispered, pacing closer towards you. His delicate fingers reached for your chin. “I mean every single word. What’s wrong with having a bigger bust than others do? Did it ever prevent you from following your dreams? Did it stop you from achieving the bloody leading role in an opera? For God’s sake, YN… Do you how proud I am of you? I almost collapsed in tears seeing you on that stage. Please, listen to me when I say you’re perfect. I believe these words don’t dictate beauty patterns in no circumstances: how many different people say these words to other different ones? Believe in me when they leave my lips.”

You gulped, blinking fast as your eyes brimmed with tears. “God…”

John silently laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your hands reached for his, still on your chin. Your eyes bore into his. For a moment, both of you silently stood close to each other. Your mind still absorbed his meaningful words, which, honestly, were the only ones that mattered.

“You’re perfect, YN,” he repeated it, pressing kisses all over your face while murmuring the words against your skin, causing you to laugh and squeal under his touch. “I’m repeating it until you believe in its meaning.”

Part 2 is here!